chanting, “By root and branch, by leaf and vine, on rowan and oak and ash and thorn I swear that what is given to my keeping shall remain in my keeping and shall be given over only to the one who holds my bond. My blood to the defense of the task I am set, my heart to the keeping of the promise to which I am bound.” The air grew thick with the taste of pennyroyal and musk as his magic crackled around us, drowning out the taste of roses.
“Broken promises are the road to our damnation,” I said, the copper and cut grass smell of my own magic undercutting his. “Promises kept are the meeting of all our myriad roads.”
“And such a meeting will my promise be.” The magic shattered around us as the formalities ended and he pulled the hope chest away. This time I let it go, my fingers aching as they pulled away from the wood. How badly did I want it? I didn’t know. I didn’t want to.
“Thank you, Tybalt,” I said, lingering on the forbidden words. Thanks implies fealty. As long as Tybalt held that chest, he was in mine. It was rude beyond belief for me to point it out that way. I wasn’t sure exactly why I did it; chalk it up to stress.
He tucked the chest under his arm, glaring, before he turned and stalked away. He turned back as the shadows parted like curtains in front of him, saying, “There will be a reckoning, October,” before he stepped through them and was gone.
Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and walked back down the alley, heading for my car. There was no time to linger; I needed to go to Shadowed Hills, and I was exhausted. I needed to get some sleep. Evening’s curse wasn’t crippling me yet, but it would start eventually, and once that happened, it wouldn’t matter how tired I was. Somehow, time had become a limited commodity.
I stopped beside my car, looking back into the darkness of the alleyway. “Yes, Tybalt,” I said to the empty air. “I know.”
ELEVEN
IT WAS ALMOST SEVEN by the time I staggered back into my apartment, stumbling over the hem of my stained silk gown and garnering curious looks from the cats, who weren’t used to me coming in smelling of smoke and the sea. The sky outside the window was turning slowly from rosy gold to a clear, crystalline blue as the sun finished its climb above the buildings. That’s one thing you’ve got to give San Francisco: there are too many people, the rent is hell and the politics are worse, but we have beautiful mornings. Somehow, in the koi pond and everything that came after, I’d forgotten that part.
I shut the door and leaned against the wall, letting my human disguise waft away into the faint, distant taste of copper. Lowering the spell left me feeling oddly refreshed and clean despite the layers of grime I’d acquired during the night. The cats twined around my ankles, complaining. I vaguely remember spooning food into their dish before collapsing facedown on the bed, too tired to bother shutting the curtains, and falling into my dreams.
For the first time in weeks, I didn’t dream of the pond. I don’t remember what I dreamed, but whatever it was, it didn’t stay with me long enough to be remembered. I woke up stiff, aching, and still dressed in the blue silk gown that used to be my second-favorite pair of jeans. I sat up, pressing a hand against the side of my head, and paused. The headache I expected wasn’t there, and it only took me a moment to remember why. I touched the hope chest. I touched the hope chest, and my headache went away. Had it changed me in just that brief, accidental contact? Root and branch, how powerful was that thing?
My memories of the previous night were jumbled but clear enough to understand, from Evening’s last frantic phone call to being ordered away by the Queen of the Mists, the discovery of the hope chest, and my bargain with Tybalt. It was the Queen’s reaction that puzzled me the most. Evening’s death was a mystery and a tragedy, but there was an answer waiting somewhere for me to find it; the existence of the hope chest told me that, if nothing else. The Queen’s response to her death was another matter. I could have understood shock, sorrow, or even