the audience chamber, a brown-haired woman in a brown velvet dress with nothing unusual about her. Luna was the first to realize who I was. She straightened in her seat, ears going flat against her head, tails uncurling and starting to twitch. Her sudden attention alerted Sylvester, who turned toward me, frowning. I could see the confusion on his face, growing more pronounced as I continued to approach.
Then the confusion faded, replaced by something I hadn’t expected. I thought I was prepared for almost anything. I wasn’t prepared for this.
“Toby!” he cried, sheer joy transforming his features as he rose, almost knocking over his chair in his hurry to descend from the dais. I froze, stunned. Sylvester crossed the space between us at something close to a run, catching me by the waist and swinging me up into the air before I had time to remember how to move. He was laughing now, joy fading enough to show the emotion behind it: relief. Pure, unadulterated relief.
I’d been hiding from Shadowed Hills because I didn’t want to face him; I didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when I came creeping back and admitted that I’d failed. But all I saw when I looked at him now was the joy of a friend who’s finally seen something they’d thought was lost come home.
Finding something to say seemed impossible. Luna saved me from the need, stepping up and putting a hand on Sylvester’s arm as she said, “Dear, you might want to put her down before she gets motion sickness. I’d really rather not have to explain to the Hobs why they need to mop the floor before tonight’s Court.”
Still laughing, Sylvester swung me back down to my feet, saying, “Yes, yes, of course,” before pulling me into a hug. He smelled, as always, of daffodils and dogwood flowers, and the solid, reassuring scent of him was enough to make it difficult not to cry. I sniffled, pulling away to wipe my eyes. Sylvester hesitated, and then let me go.
I stumbled back a few steps, taking refuge in formality as I bowed, holding myself at the low point of the arc. I can say one thing for the nobles: they probably have the combined thigh strength to take on every synchronized swimming team in the world. Holding a formal bow hurts, and it’s always good incentive toward doing heavy stretches before I have to do it again.
“Toby?” said Sylvester quizzically.
“I don’t think she’s going to stop doing that until you acknowledge her, dear,” said Luna.
“I picked her up. Doesn’t that acknowledge her presence?”
“I meant a little more formally.”
“Oh.” Sylvester cleared his throat. “Yes, October, I see you. Can you stop that, please? Where have you been? Well, I know where you’ve been, that was a silly question, forget I asked it, but we’ve all been worried sick about you, you know. We only found out you were back when Evening called out of courtesy.” He sounded faintly hurt now. “I’ve sent messages. Didn’t you get them?”
“Yes, Your Grace, I did,” I said, straightening. “I just . . . I wasn’t ready to answer them.”
“But why?” Sylvester asked, looking at me like a kid who’s just been told that Christmas has been canceled.
“I think I know the answer to that one,” said Luna, putting her hand on his arm and offering me a warm, if slightly sorrowful, smile. “Hello, Toby. You’re looking well.”
“As are you,Your Grace,”I said,smiling back.I couldn’t help it. It’s hard to look at Luna without smiling.
Short, slender, compact; you could describe the Duchess of Shadowed Hills in those words, if they wouldn’t make her sound so fragile. Luna was a small woman, but she was anything but breakable, with arms strengthened by hours of gardening and all the magical defenses her Kitsune blood implied. Their strength is advertised by the number of their tails, and she had three to call her own, silver-furred and sleek. Her waist-length brown hair was plaited back, and she was dressed for gardening, ignoring the formality of her surroundings. Luna has never been much of one for standing needlessly on ceremony.
“You should have come before this,” she chided lightly. “We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I admitted, and turned to face Sylvester. “Your Grace . . .”
“We looked for you,” he said. There was an urgency to his words, like there was nothing in the world I needed to hear more than I needed to hear what he had to tell me. “We