across from her was most likely an enemy, too, even if he had been kind to Daisy, and for one simple reason.
You could not trust anything male once Summer had set her gaze upon it. From the lowest cur to the highest fullblood knight, they swelled below the belt and Summer led them neatly by the protuberance. What would this Armormaster give to worm his way back into Summer’s favor?
Perhaps he had simply amused himself with Daisy during his banishment.
Gallow finally spoke again. “You must have cared for him.” Quietly, as if it didn’t matter. “Where are they, then?” He glanced at the front of the diner, the flyspecked windows filling with gold as the sun rose through mist. She could not keep the Gates closed much longer—that much was true. When they opened, she was renewed, and that renewal spread through each realm in its own fashion.
“What, I’m to tell you?” Robin shook her head. “No, Armormaster. I would like to live a little longer.”
“What for?” Soft, but cruel. He probably would be flattered to know he sounded like Summer herself. But he shook his head, as if realizing his rudeness. “I mean—”
Vengeance. “Does it matter?”
“Oh, it does. I wouldn’t kill you, Ragged.” Flat and convincing, it had all the ring of sincerity. “Not unless I knew…”
Knew what? An idiot’s question. When he knew she had the vials, and that Summer would welcome him into her arms and couch again, Robin Ragged would be dead indeed. She had only her wits and her song, not to mention the few small trinkets she carried, to aid her in surviving.
His eyes had paled another shade or two. That was all.
“Breakfast!” The waitress slammed plates down on the table between them, and Robin forced herself not to flinch. Steam lifted from something that was supposed to resemble eggs, and the pancakes were uneven blobs, probably burned on the side facing down. There was bacon, too, full of salt goodness, but revulsion filled Robin’s belly.
There were two glasses of milk, anyway, and at least that smelled fresh. Pale, of course, having been processed, but still better than the rest of it. She reached for the glass, realized it was smudged. More pointless revulsion.
“Eat while you can.” He looked down at his own plate.
Eat this? Are you mad? She forced herself to take a sip of milk, her skin crawling at the thought of mortal effluvia still on the glass.
She was sidhe enough for that, at least.
Maybe she could be heartless, too.
FOR JOY OR SORROW
29
Canton Station echoed with midday traffic. Silver pig-buses nuzzled at the big dun sow of a building, and even though the interior was tired and old, it still held Art Deco reminders. Brass rails and marble flooring, shafts of weak cloud-filtered light beaming down from skylights, the fixtures hanging from the ceiling frosted with dust but still intricately pleasing.
Best of all, the lockers were steel, which meant enough cold iron to make them safe. He found the one he wanted and touched the handle, a single syllable of chantment resounding low and vibrating under the PA system announcing leaving for Buffalo, now boarding in bay 16.
“Gonna leave some stuff here,” he said, though she hadn’t asked. The crystalline tears had dried to thin trails of salt on her soft cheeks. Even with reddened eyes and nose, she was beautiful. The matting of her wet eyelashes, the way her mouth turned slightly down, her blue eyes dazed and wide… it made a man think about all sorts of things.
It’s just because she looks like Daisy. Cut it out.
Except he didn’t even remember what Daisy truly looked like. Maybe handling her memory every day for five years had made it fade, like the mortal thing it was.
He dug in the backpack, extracted the spare boots, the Crown Royal bag, and a few other small things. Hung the backpack carefully, propping the boots at the bottom and tucking the purple bag into them. Glanced at her again. She simply stared over his shoulder, watching the mortals as they hurried past. Blinking every so often, and deathly pale.
She hadn’t wanted mortal breakfast. A few sips of milk, and that dazed, numb look. Was that why he was so unsteady? Why his hands wanted to shake, why he was hiding Daisy’s jewelry here in a steel locker?
“Do you want to leave anything here? It’s safe enough.” He realized it was a ridiculous question as soon as he asked it; she carried nothing. Her hands were