Page 23 of When Sorrows Come

Maybe a family arrow. Something long and straight and capable of flying very far because there was nothing to slow it down.

Faerie’s history is riddled with secret human ancestors, mortal outcrosses who have been politely concealed from society by the use of hope chests to turn the resulting children into purebloods and allow them to carry on the family line. Without the hope chests, we would never have been able to build the numbers to create a society, much less to thrive, and most of us cope by never thinking about it. Siblings don’t marry each other, but cousins do, because cousins have to. If you want to continue your descendant line, you don’t have a choice.

If we went far enough back along the branch, we’d probably find a point where Tybalt and I were related, since at least one of the Cait Sidhe Firstborn was descended from Oberon. For obvious reasons, made stronger by my own human upbringing, I had no interest in doing the research necessary to prove it.

The Luidaeg reached over and patted my hand, clearly reading the distress in my expression. “Sorry,” she said, and while her tone was sarcastic, I knew her meaning was sincere. That’s the only good thing about talking to someone who’s been geased to be literally incapable of telling a lie. “I know you’re still human enough not to like to talk about these things. But Archibald and Sarah were good people, and when I asked them to speak for Maples, they agreed. Packed up their children and traveled to the convocation to give their testimony.”

I blinked at her. “Why did you get involved?”

“The Gwragedd Annwn was right when she said the Roane predicted war if we seated the High Kingdom in Ash and Oak,” saidthe Luidaeg. “I had already seen it in my own twists of the tide, and I knew that when the iron rose from the harbor and had the land for its pleasures, the Kingdom as we knew it would fall. If that had been allowed to happen after seating the High Kingdom there, all the lesser Kingdoms would have believed they had the right to challenge for the throne. Not just in the Westlands—Europa would have joined the fray, and possibly the North Kingdom and Aztalan. Those last two weren’t certain. The others were. The Shallcross family held the throne of Ash and Oak.”

“I remember King Shallcross,” said Tybalt thoughtfully. “Daoine Sidhe. Unpleasant fellow. Did he ever marry?”

“Yes, Queen Vesper was by his side for the last thirty years of his rule,” said Quentin. “She was also Daoine Sidhe, of no known family line.”

“He deserved her,” said the Luidaeg. “I never met the woman, but from what I understand, his bride was as callous and self-absorbed as he was.”

“They wed after I left, then,” said Tybalt.

“You got out a good fifty years before the calamity.” The Luidaeg looked like she was on the verge of saying more, but that was when Nessa finally tired of letting us lead and shoved her way between us, turning around so that she was walking backward like a tour guide as she smiled beatifically, if tensely, at the Luidaeg.

“It’s a great honor that you’re all to be allowed to dine with the royal family tonight,” she said, in a bright, cheery, somewhat strained voice. “As some of you have clearly mortal heritage, it’s possible you don’t know the etiquette appropriate to the occasion. Please do not speak to the High King or Queen unless spoken to directly; you may address servants, but should refrain from doing so whenever possible, to make things simpler.”

“Should we also refrain from looking directly at anyone who might outrank us?” asked the Luidaeg, tone dry.

Her failure to tell Nessa her name was starting to feel a little mean. Still, something about Nessa was bothering me, and Quentin said she wasn’t acting like herself, and if this was keeping the Luidaeg happy, I wasn’t going to say anything. When dealing with someone as old as the Luidaeg, it’s generally a good idea to let them have their fun. Oberon was causing a lot less trouble. He was still walking quietly along with the group, looking at everything with the same calm serenity. He wasn’t even what I would havecalled particularly wide-eyed; he wasn’t gawking, just looking at his surroundings. All this had been built since his disappearance.

I wondered, not entirely idly, whether he approved of the things we’d done while he was gone. If he didn’t, there was probably going to be some kind of a reckoning soon, and the thought of trying to protect the people I cared about from someone whose power was exponentially greater than the Luidaeg’s was horrific enough to not be worth dwelling on.

And anyway, we had reached a door that actually did us the courtesy of looking like a door, albeit a massive, ornate one of carved maple inlaid with amethyst panels. These were smooth, polished pieces, almost as clear as colored glass, allowing us to see movement in the room beyond.

“Welcome to the Grand Court of Maples,” said Nessa, and spread her hands wide. The doors swung open, revealing a room massive enough to make the entrance hall seem small.

The floor was polished amethyst, balanced by the raw amethyst ceiling. Crystals jutted down like stalactites, glowing from within with a soft light that somehow managed to not be purple, defying all logic and sense in the process. There were no corners, the room having been constructed in the round, and tall tables sketched out the circumference of the space. They weren’t pressed to the wall, instead being set far enough out to both allow a generous amount of space for seating and to let the servers pass freely behind the diners. Every seat was occupied, save for a table that had clearly been left open for our use.

We could have put every member of Arden’s Courtandeveryone who regularly attended the Court at Shadowed Hills at those tables and not come close to filling them entirely. The enormity of this venue was beginning to press down on me, becoming almost overwhelming.

Tybalt’s hand settled on my shoulder in what would probably look like a proprietary gesture to anyone who didn’t know me well enough to see how close my flight or fight response was to kicking in. Neither bolting from the room nor swaggering up to the High King and saying something inappropriate was going to serve me well right now, and I was grateful for Tybalt’s intervention, even as I lightly resented the need for it.

Emotions can be contradictory, is what I’m saying.

More tables split the center of the room, preventing it fromlooking quite so much like a cruise ship buffet. These were long, straight tables that looked like they’d been hewed from ancient trees, each of them as big around as one of the great coastal redwoods, polished and sanded and stained but not painted in any way. It should have been rustic. It should have been charming. It wasn’t. It was like something out ofBeowulf, ancient and imposing, and I didn’t belong here.

Nessa walked with smooth assurance down the center of the room, following a path between the tables, which were spaced wide enough to let us all follow her without bumping into any of the army of servers who moved between them with trays and baskets in their hands. The diners stopped their dining as we passed, turning to watch us with eager, calculating eyes. They were taking our measure with every step, and many of them were finding us wanting.

Too many teenagers, for one thing; it’s not common for people to visit royal courts with an entire high school in attendance. I could see how intently they were studying the boys: Quentin, who seemed to be trying to disappear into Dean, Dean, who was defending his boyfriend as well as he could with the relatively slight outline of his body, and Raj, who was meeting their measuring stares with an imperious gaze of his own, daring them to say a single word about a Prince of Cats walking among them. They were looking for something, I realized. They were looking for their Crown Prince.

Of course. Even if no one here knew that Quentin Sollys was living in blind fosterage in the Mists, the people who commonly attended this Court had to know what age he’d be, and they’d have a decent guess at what he’d look like now. Every visitor important enough to get a dinner invitation had to be subject to a certain degree of scrutiny.

Nessa stopped when she reached the front of the room. “I am honored to present Sir October Daye, Knight of Lost Words, sworn to Shadowed Hills and carrying the banner in the Mists, and her consort to be, King Tybalt of the Court of Dreaming Cats,” she said, in a clear, carrying voice. Then she faltered, finally appearing to realize that she’d never bothered to ask for anyone else’s names, and said, “Along with their company, who have traveled here from the Mists to receive the grace and glory of your presence, and the joy of dining in your hall.”

High Queen Maida was pressing a napkin to her lips like she thought she could contain her laughter through sheer force of refusing to let it out. High King Aethlin, on the other hand, was emulating his subjects in the way he scanned our party, making me suddenly, fiercely glad that Quentin had been foolhardy enough to trade his face for anonymity. If anyone had even suspected he might be with me, the way the High King was looking at us would have been more than enough to give the game away.

“Nice place,” I said, breaking about twenty rules of etiquette and sending a titter spreading through the hall. None of the courtiers were gauche enough to laugh openly, of course, but their snickers and half-swallowed chuckles added up.

Tybalt removed his hand from my shoulder. Our approaches to nobles of the Divided Courts were similar: aggressive irreverence, bordering on disrespect. But he knew I could get away with more than he could here.

“We’re quite fond of it,” said Maida, lowering her napkin and smiling at me. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Sir Daye. We apologize for the difficulty of traveling here.”

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