Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(124)

“Aunt Birdie?” I asked blankly.

“Toby,” she said, and laughed at my expression. “My mom’s her oldest friend. They were kids together. She’d be my godmother if we did that sort of thing. As it is, she’s the first adult I remember who wasn’t my mom or dad. When I was little, I couldn’t pronounce ‘October,’ so I called her ‘Birdie,’ and it stuck inside the family. Sometimes I forget anybody calls her anything else.”

“Ah,” I said. “Your family lives . . . ?”

“In Colma. We’re not sworn to any specific demesne, if that’s what you’re not asking. Mom’s thin-blooded, Dad’s half and half, and no one ever wanted us. Not until Karen started walking in dreams.” She grimaced. “A Firstborn asshole kidnaps half my siblings and half the Courts in the Bay Area start banging on the front door offering to save my sister from a life of useless peasanthood. They sort of forget that we’re not serfs anymore. We have jobs. We do stuff. We’ve been politely turning them down for years. Now that Karen’s started hanging out with the Luidaeg, maybe they’ll listen.”

“The sea witch does seem to have taken an interest,” I said, as neutrally as I could. “I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.”

“Karen doesn’t seem to mind.”

We had reached the first stairway. I started down, Cassandra trailing behind. “You’re studying physics?”

“Yeah. Do you, uh . . . shit. There’s no way to say this that isn’t super rude, so I’m going to go with it. Do you know what that means?”

I smiled a little, wryly. “I may be a pureblood, but I’ve spent the last hundred years in the mortal world. I know about physics. I watched the moon landing on TV along with everyone else on my block. I even know how to program a VCR.”

Cassandra looked at me blankly. I rolled my eyes.

“I promise you, references used to stay topical for longer. I know how a cell phone works, okay? Does that prove I’m down with the modern world?”

“What did you do for a hundred years among the mortals?”

I shrugged. The stairs ended in a narrower, less extravagant hallway. The walls were still carved redwood, but the ceiling was straight, not domed, and there were no flowers. “A lot of things. I was a seamstress for years, before it got hard to make a living that way. I worked as a nanny for wealthy mortal families for a while, until they started wanting references and proof of identity. A few odd jobs, and then, in the 1950s, I discovered I liked selling books. So I’ve been a bookseller for the last sixty years. I’m good at figuring out what a person might like to read, and convincing them to give it a chance.”

“Huh,” said Cassandra. “You know, when Aunt Birdie said she’d found the lost princess, I was expecting something more, I guess . . .”

“Disney on Ice?” I smiled faintly. “I can do my best, but I’ll never be the kind of girl who willingly stands in front of the glitter cannon.”

“Boom,” said Cassandra, deadpan.

I laughed. It was a relief. Nolan was asleep, but Master Davies—Walther—was going to find a way to wake him up, and everything was going to be okay. It had to be. I’d already lost more than I could stand to lose. One more thing would be too much.

We arrived to find the kitchen occupied by two Hobs, one standing on a stepstool at the sink with her arms buried in soapy water, the other sitting on a box and peeling potatoes. They froze at the sight of me and Cassandra standing in the doorway. I forced a smile.

“Hi,” I said. “Pretend we’re not here.”

The two Hobs continued to stare. Finally, the seated Hob lowered her knife and said, “I’m not sure we can do that, Highness.”

“Why not?”

The question came from Cassandra, and it was enough to make all three of us turn to look at her. She shrugged.

“This is the kitchen,” she said. “This is your space, right? I mean, a queen’s a queen even when she’s peeling potatoes, but you have to have a certain amount of authority here, or what would stop princes and princesses and the like from just rampaging through the place sticking their fingers in scalding water and ruining soufflés? If Queen Windermere wants to sit and have a sandwich or something, that’s proof that you’re doing your jobs awesomely.”

“Really?” asked the potato peeler, looking dubious.

“Really,” said Cassandra. “She feels safe here, being incognito and feeding her guests. By which I mean me. I’m starving.”

The two Hobs exchanged a look. The dishwasher focused on me.

“You would truly not be offended, Highness?” she asked.

“As long as you don’t mind me making myself a sandwich while you keep working, I’d be overjoyed,” I said. They were starting to look uncomfortable again, so I added, “Remember, I grew up here. I know where everything is. I like making my own sandwiches.”

“If you say so, Highness,” said the dishwasher.

Neither of them looked happy, but they weren’t arguing, and they went back to their respective tasks as I led Cassandra to the kitchen table, only pausing occasionally to shoot uncomfortable glances in our direction, like they were expecting me to start yelling about dereliction of duty.