Chimes at Midnight

Neither of them won out. Instead, I stayed where I was, and listened as he said, “My name is Quentin Sollys. I am the Crown Prince of the High Kingdom of the Westlands. And I think I know a thing or two about being royal, no matter what you say.”

“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered.

Arden just stared. “What?”

“My father is King Aethlin Sollys of the Westlands,” said Quentin. “I’ve been in blind fosterage for the last six years. It seemed like the best way for me to grow up without being treated like a Prince everywhere I went.” He glanced at me sidelong, and while there was still apology in his eyes, it was underscored now by amusement. “I can definitively say that I’ve not been receiving the royal treatment for the last several years.”

“You people are insane.” Arden shook her head, apparently shaking off her shock at the same time. “She’s not Daoine Sidhe, and a pie turned her human, so she wants me to go through with an act of treason so she can get her hands on a fairy tale, and now you’re telling me it’s okay, because you’re secretly the Crown Prince of the Kingdom that my Kingdom answers to.” She turned, leveling a finger at Danny. “Are you going to tell me that you’re really Oberon in disguise? Is that the next piece of the lunatic pie?”

“Nah, not me,” said Danny. “I’m just the taxi driver. Also, it ain’t treason if you’re the rightful heir. Insurrection, maybe. But that’s a technicality.”

“This is all your fault.” Arden swung back around to face me. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t tracked me down. I don’t care how much you thought you needed me. You had no right.”

“You said ‘my Kingdom,’” I said.

“What?”

“Just now. You said Quentin’s parents were in charge of the Kingdom your Kingdom answered to.” I shrugged a little. “You know this is your fight, Arden, and you know you don’t have any other choice. You can hate me if you want—I’m sort of used to the Queen hating me—but you also know that I’m here because it’s time for you to step up and do your job.”

“We do not have the luxury of choosing our duty,” said Quentin, in a tone I’d never heard from him before. In that moment, he sounded like a Prince. “Faerie calls. It is your burden, and your blessing, to answer.”

“And while you’re doing that, I can go upstairs and save Jude from the people who want to know where you are,” said Madden, with blissful unconcern.

We all turned to look at him. “What?” I said, after a few seconds of bemused silence.

Madden shrugged. “There are people upstairs talking to Jude. They’re being pretty nasty, since she won’t tell them where you are. I don’t think she knows.”

Shit. “The Queen’s guards must have followed us here. But how . . . ?”

“Your shoes.” Madden again. Again, we all turned to stare at him.

“What about her shoes, Madden?” asked Arden.

“They’re all spelled up. They smell like secrets.” Madden pointed at my feet, in case we didn’t know where shoes were typically kept. “I think they followed your shoes.”

“My . . . oh, Oberon’s eyes.” I bent, hastily untying my laces before yanking the sneakers off my feet. “I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and a fool and every other word you can come up with for stupid. Here.” I thrust my shoes toward Arden as I straightened—my shoes, which I held by the blood-red laces the Queen had tied them with when she transformed my dress, back at the beginning of this whole mess. I’d been so relieved not to have another pair of sneakers transmuted into high heels that I hadn’t stopped to wonder why she’d been merciful. I’d just kept on wearing them.

Arden frowned. “What do you want me to do with these?”

“Teleport as far away from here as you can and dump them,” I said. “Aim for Petaluma. If the Queen’s guards are using the shoes to track us, they’ll go after you.”

“This is idiotic,” said Arden . . . but she took the shoes. “Madden, don’t let them leave.”

“Okay,” said Madden.

Arden turned, her hand sketching an archway in the air. If I squinted, I could almost see the shimmer on the other side—and then she stepped through it and was gone. Almost in the same second there was a clicking sound from above us as someone started to turn the doorknob.

“Shit,” I hissed, and grabbed Quentin’s arm. “Madden, Danny, come on!” I didn’t look to see whether they were following as I took off across the basement, heading for the painted canvas “wall” separating Arden’s makeshift apartment from the rest of the room. If we could just make it through before anyone came down the stairs, we’d be hidden; we might be able to evade the guards, and Jude wouldn’t get hurt. She didn’t deserve to get hurt.

But when Faerie and the human worlds collide, someone always gets hurt. That’s just the way things are. I was a fool to think that it could ever be any different.