Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(70)
Tybalt shook his head. “I think that’s the first time I can remember when he didn’t demand to come with you on the dangerous errand.”
“I don’t think he wants to spend too much time around his folks; there’s always a chance someone would notice the family resemblance,” I said. “Besides, breakfast is available. He’s a black hole with legs. He’ll catch up with us later, after he’s eaten three pounds of bacon and so many pancakes that the thought makes me feel sort of sick. Now come on. We really, really need to get to the High King.”
“Without a change of clothing?” Tybalt gestured to my outfit. “Not that I have any issues with your attire—you look lovely, as always, and even more lovely now that you’re rumpled—but there’s something to be said for not appearing before the ruler of this fair land in the trousers you wore yesterday.”
“He knows I was working all day, and I’ll change before the conclave,” I said. “This is important.”
Tybalt paused to search my face. I knew what he was looking for—signs of strain, of worry, that I needed something other than a quick, private transit to another part of the knowe—and so I didn’t look away. I met his eyes instead, letting him see everything he wanted. For once, thanks to the Luidaeg’s little sleep potion, I wasn’t absolutely exhausted. I’d even eaten two bites of a cinnamon roll. For me, that was the next best thing to “in fighting trim.”
But more importantly—most importantly—I knew what needed to be done. I needed to be able to tell King Antonio’s son that I’d caught the people who killed his daddy. I needed to wake my friend. I had to keep moving, and I needed Tybalt to help me do that.
Finally, he sighed, and looped one arm around my waist. “Take a breath,” he said, and stepped backward, pulling me with him, into the shadows.
The Shadow Roads were the property of the Cait Sidhe, who used them to move from place to place without being seen. Even changeling Cait Sidhe could access them, which explained how some cats could appear and disappear at will. So far as I knew, I was one of very few non-feline individuals to have spent much time in the freezing dark behind the shadows the Cait Sidhe used for transport. Distance was shortened on the Shadow Roads, but not always in a straight line. We ran through Arden’s knowe, choosing speed to keep ourselves from freezing. It was a brief trip, thankfully; after no more than ten steps Tybalt was pulling us back into the light, emerging into a broad redwood-and-glass hallway, in front of a pair of double doors guarded by Tylwyth Teg in the royal colors of the Westlands.
The guards blinked at us. I hunched forward, hands on my knees, shivering, and put up a hand to signal them to wait. Tybalt, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, looking like he’d just been out for a stroll. I knew better—it didn’t take as much out of him to pull me through the shadows as it had before I learned to run there without resisting, but it was still an effort. He no longer pretended to be untouchable when we were alone. It was probably hurting him to pretend that he was fine, but he would never willingly show weakness among the Divided Courts.
It was a gift that he would show weakness to me.
“Just give us a second,” I said, directing my words toward the floor, since the floor didn’t require me to lift my head. “Are the High King and High Queen up?”
“What is your business here?” demanded one of the guards.
Okay. That required lifting my head. “My name is October Daye, Knight of Lost Words, hero of the realm, tasked by your bosses to find out what the hell is going on at this conclave. We were polite in appearing in the hall, rather than inside the royal quarters, which I’m pretty sure I have permission to do, what with the whole ‘please fix this’ command they gave me. So are they up, or am I going to tell them I couldn’t provide the update they asked for because you weren’t paying attention during the conclave yesterday?”
The guards exchanged an uneasy look, and I realized two things. First, that they didn’t look familiar: they had probably been guarding this door during the conclave, and wouldn’t have seen me speaking to the group. Second, that if they were that much older than Quentin, I would eat my shoe. This was probably their first “real” assignment.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” I said, straightening up. “It’s been a long day, and it’s going to be a longer night. Are they up?”
“Yes,” said one of the guards. “Please wait here.”
The guard who’d spoken opened the door and slipped inside, leaving the other to watch me and Tybalt uneasily. Tybalt pushed away from the wall and moved to stand behind me, putting one hand on the curve of my hip as he fell into position. It was a small, reassuring weight, and I stood a little straighter, knowing that no matter what, he had my back.
The remaining guard watched us for a moment more before asking, in a careful tone, “Pardon me, Sir Daye, but your companion, is he . . . ?”
“Tybalt, King of the Court of Dreaming Cats, and betrothed to Sir Daye,” said Tybalt. He couldn’t have sounded smugger if he’d been trying—and I’d known him long enough to know that sometimes, he tried. He was a cat, after all. “Don’t look so surprised. Cats may have their lapses in judgment, just like everyone else.”
“Maybe don’t say these things when my elbows are so close to your kidneys,” I suggested genially.