of course entranced by the beauty of the Seelie Queen.
Just as Sean had been. Men did not see past that loveliness. She almost regretted tucking Gallow’s coat about his shoulders and keeping watch this morning. Almost regretted holding a little boy and teaching him the constellations. Sean never cried, never threw a tantrum like some mortal children.
Robin-mama! Little hands raised to greet her, and his wide-open smile.
“I go to fetch you a gift, my Queen.” Amazingly, the words didn’t turn to bitter saltpeter in her mouth. Robin could have congratulated herself on sounding so carelessly polite.
“The ampoules, Ragged.”
“Yes.” She was looking down, she realized, at the toes of her shoes. Scuffed and black, their gloss a sidhe chant that would renew itself. They had given her good service, a gift from Morische the Cobbler before he had left for the mortal realm. Let me go, Ragged, and I shall give thee hooves that will not falter.
Except they had. She had stumbled in the dance somehow, either in caring for a full-mortal boy… or in letting Summer know she cared.
Still, Morische had left with his life; perhaps that counted for something.
“Gallow was my Armormaster, and the finest to wear the glass badge.” Summer moved slightly, and a rosy flush simmered through the floor. “He shall keep you safe, dearest Ragged, while you fetch what is mine.”
Amazingly, Jeremiah Gallow spoke again. “I will keep her safe. But I do not serve.”
A long, trilling, thrilling laugh. “You’ve grown defiant. Yes, Gallow-my-glass, you shall watch my little bird. After all…” Summer clapped her hands once, and the flush through the glassine floor faded. “She is your kin. You married her sister.”
Keep your lying tongue from my sister, you sidhe whore. The inhale filled her, breath in a bellows, and her throat relaxed, ready to let the music through.
Gallow stood before Summer, his head cocked slightly to the side. “I don’t recall such an occasion.”
“Did you think your mortal dalliance had gone unnoticed? You left Court for little Daisy, who gave you an answer, do.” It wasn’t precisely a smirk on Summer’s fair face.
The most horrible thing about it was her relaxed, easy smile, the utter transparency of her satisfaction.
All the air left Robin’s lungs in a rush. “Daisy…”
“She didn’t have a—” Thankfully, then, Gallow shut up. He froze as if turned to stone, and for a moment Robin had the strange idea that Summer had encased him in amber, too.
“Where was mortal Daisy bound, the night she died?” The Seelie Queen stretched luxuriously. “And who did she happen to meet there? I’ll tell you this much, Gallow-my-glass, she met a sidhe.”
“Who?” The word was a croak.
Robin’s throat was dry as Marrowmere sands; she could not make a single sound rise. Is that what happened? Is that why I could not find her, until I found her grave?
“Oh, I think I’ll tell you, when you bring the Ragged back to me, with her precious cargo.” Summer nibbled at her lower lip, teeth so sharp-white against the crimson. “Don’t delay. I must open the Gates soon. Wide and wild shall be spring’s return.”
“And when you do, the plague will spread.” Robin had found her voice again, and each word was a weapon, the song trembling right behind it. “It will claw at pretty white flesh, and—”
The amber column trembled. It rocked back and forth, singing a high distressed note, and almost, almost fell.
No. Please, no. She couldn’t sing—her throat had closed completely.
“If you do not bring the ampoules, dear Ragged, I may not be able to free our Sean.” She yawned, patting at her mouth with one hand. Her nails, long and wicked, were now glamour-dyed with moonshine, white bearing a faint blush of peach.
Gallow had turned and was bearing down on her. Robin struggled to breathe. If she could just get enough air in, she could let the song loose, and…
… then what?
His hand closed about her arm with bruising force, and Gallow the Armormaster dragged her from the hall. Summer’s laughter, high and sweet and tinkling, accompanied them all the way through the rotunda, and spilled away down the stairs just as they did.
AS PLANNED
26
High morning in Summer was busy with bees drunkenly careening from flower to flower, pixies trailing scatterdust as they played among the zipping buzzes. After a great hush earlier in the day, joy had stolen out of Summerhome, filling the flour-pale pathways with a secret, brimming glee. Naiads basked on the shore or cavorted in the crystalline water, the nymphs