Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(11)
The night air was warm and scented with my neighbors’ honeysuckle, which was blooming so violently that it seemed likely to rip down the trellis where it grew. I let go of Walther’s hand, coughing as I inhaled a great lungful of smoggy mortal air.
“I appreciate the save,” he said, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on. They were nonprescription, intended to blunt the unnatural blue of his eyes. The color bled through his human disguises, making him seem inhuman no matter how hard he tried. “I had no idea how I was going to get out of that room.”
“I sort of figured,” I said. “Do we need to give you a ride home? May and Jazz don’t know that I’m back yet. I could probably sneak away.”
“I have my own transportation.” Walther reached into his coat and pulled out a bundle of yarrow twigs, holding them up with a wry smile. “It’s a nice offer, but I’d like some time to think about what just happened.”
“Sure,” I said. “Come by any time, and I guess I’ll see you at the conclave, whenever that is.”
He nodded. “See you there.” Then he positioned the bundle of twigs so that it was basically under his butt, kicked off from the ground, and flew away.
Sometimes life in Faerie is deeply, deeply weird. I unlocked the back door and let myself inside.
The kitchen was a disaster zone. Empty pizza boxes were piled on the counter, someone had spilled nacho cheese on the table, and May was in the process of mixing a batch of Rice Krispie treats, if the smell of hot marshmallow was anything to go by. She blinked when she saw me. I blinked back.
“I was gone for less than an hour,” I said. “How did you make this big of a mess? And where’s Jazz?”
“At the store; we ran out of ice cream,” said May. “As for ‘how did we make this big of a mess,’ there are five—count them, five—teenagers in the other room who were told that for tonight, they got to be normal. Not in charge of anything, not afraid of anything, not learning how to exist in a strange new world, just normal. So they tore through the kitchen like a buzz saw, made nachos when they realized that we’d foolishly failed to order enough pizza for an army, and now they’re in the living room watching Disney movies.”
Her voice rose a bit on the last two words, breaking like she was struggling not to laugh. My eyes widened. “Oh, sweet Maeve, you’re not serious.”
“I am.” She nodded solemnly. “I am serious. They are enjoying the animated stylings of the Walt Disney Corporation. Dean has never seen a cartoon before.”
“He had Internet in the Undersea.”
“Sure, but he lacked the cultural context to tell him why he should want to waste his time watching movies about things that weren’t real.” May glanced to the kitchen door as she lost her battle against her grin. It spread across her face like she was in the process of becoming a Cheshire cat, until it seemed like she was nothing but the smile. “That poor, unfortunate soul.”
“Yeah, his mother’s going to kill us.” I walked over and stole a finger-scoop of Rice Krispie treat.
Dean’s mother, Dianda Lorden, was the Duchess of Saltmist, the neighboring Undersea demesne. She was also a Merrow, which meant that in human terms, she was a mermaid—just like humans would lump me, Arden, and Walther all under the banner of “elf,” if they knew that we existed. Dianda was amiably violent, as seemed to be the norm among Undersea nobles. She was either going to find us showing her son The Little Mermaid hysterically funny or incredibly offensive and, sadly, I didn’t know which way she was likely to go.
“What happened with Arden?” May sounded concerned. I couldn’t blame her.
“Good job waiting to ask that until I’d been home for five minutes,” I said. I took a breath. “Remember how she said the High King was coming next week, so she needed to wake Madden and her brother up now if she wanted to be certain she’d be able to give them the cure?”
May nodded. “It was less than an hour ago, so yes.”
“She woke Madden up. That was all we had time for before the High King walked in.”
May audibly gasped. “He’s already here?”
“Yeah,” I said grimly. “He’s not going to punish her for waking Madden, but he’s forbidden her to wake Nolan. As for me, my punishment for helping her go against his wishes is attending the conclave—with Quentin. I’m guessing he was planning to convince-slash-command me to do that anyway, since this is the sort of thing Quentin really ought to see. Doesn’t mean I’m thrilled. What’s the dress code for a conclave?”
“Since you’re unlanded and attending as a witness and observer, you should be fine with whatever you’d normally wear to a court function,” said May. “Bring your knife, but be prepared to surrender it at the door.”
“Wouldn’t it be better not to bring a weapon if they’re just going to take it away from me?”
“Not really.” May resumed stirring her Rice Krispie mixture. The marshmallow had begun to set. The treats resisted her machinations. “By bringing a weapon, you show that you’re willing to defend the conclave. By giving it up, you show that you trust your hosts to protect you, and your fellow attendees not to need stabbing. It’s a show of good faith. It also means that if day one goes really well—or really poorly—they might let you keep your knife on day two, because you’ll have earned the right to go armed.”