world. Faerie does not deal with change well.”
Probably true. Then something he’d said earlier registered. “What tragedy came next? After the planeweavers died?”
He waved a hand at the clearing. “You are watching it.” And with that unhelpful bit of information, he pushed out of his seat. “I should go. The day is starting and I have a meeting with a senator this morning.”
“You’re going to miss it. The door will spit you out at sunset.” How did he not know that?
My father glanced back for only a moment. Long enough to give me a small, mischievous smile. “The doors can be rather fickle.”
Then he walked away, leaving me blinking at his back as he headed for the hawthorn-lined path. Once he’d disappeared, I made my way back to Falin.
“What was that about?” Falin asked.
I shook my head. “It wasn’t related to the case.” Not directly at least. “Just someone who owed me some information.” Which I hadn’t actually gotten. He’d told me a lot of things I hadn’t known, but he hadn’t actually given me the answer I’d asked for. Of course, if he was right about the changeling planeweavers being dead, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like I wanted to go talk to the high king.
“You’re the planeweaver,” a female voice said behind us.
I winced, but turned. I couldn’t exactly deny who I was.
The Summer Queen stood with a handmaiden to either side of her. I blinked in surprise for a moment, then dipped into a small curtsy.
“Your Majesty,” I said.
“You are the planeweaver, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“And you are also the girl who was with my husband yesterday afternoon?”
I winced again, and I was aware how still Falin had gone by my side. Theoretically, at a revelry the Summer Queen couldn’t punish any grudges she might have against me, but I wasn’t sure if that was an unbreakable rule that Faerie enforced or just a tradition.
“Nothing happened,” I said, realizing how guilty and stupid that sounded as soon as it was out of my mouth.
“Of that I have no doubt. You were still dressed when I arrived.” Her perfect lips turned downward. “You must be very much in love to have resisted his glamours. Considering what I know of winter and how she treats her knights, I’m not sure if I should congratulate you or mourn the tragedy of it all.”
I spluttered, dropping Falin’s arm. I wanted to say we were only friends. But while it was true that we were friends, saying we were only friends wasn’t the full truth, and I knew it. Most of the time I had no reason to examine the feelings I had for him because he was, as the Summer Queen implied, off-limits.
Falin, for his part, said nothing, his face cold and blank, like a carved ice sculpture.
“Regardless,” the queen said, ignoring my reaction, “I think I would be happier right now had I caught you in flagrante delicto with my husband. Discovering he was in negotiation with a planeweaver is far more concerning. What did he want from you?”
I considered her, this beautiful but rigid queen with her severe handmaidens. Her subjects were not the roisterous and exuberant collective the king surrounded himself with, but her people didn’t seem unhappy. Assuming they had the choice, the fae who followed her preferred her more restrained ways. The king had implied he wanted me to dissolve the marriage bond between them. Reading between the lines, that meant one of them would no longer be Faerie royalty. I doubted the king intended to vacate his throne. Did this stern queen deserve to know her lecherous husband’s plans? And was it my place to tell her?
Well, I sure as hell would want to know. But there was one little problem . . .
“I think that I would tell you if I could, but it is more complicated than that.”
“You took an oath?” She furrowed her brow. Then her green eyes widened. “No, he laid a curse on you. I can see it hanging about you, ready to spring. What are the conditions?”
I just stared at her, unsure if I could speak about the curse without setting it off. Beside me, Falin twisted around, studying me as if he’d be able to spot the nebulous magic stilling my tongue.
“Ah, you can’t speak of it, can you? My husband is not horribly original. I suppose you’ll start spitting spiders or snails if you do?”
“Toads.”
She gave a rueful laugh. “Of course.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she raked