to a willowy woman in a tattered green-and-brown dress. “Mom . . . ?”
“Toby, what—”
“Wait here,” I said, and started across the grove, yanking my dress up around my knees to keep myself from stumbling. Several people shot startled glances in my direction at my lack of decorum, but no one stopped me. It didn’t matter.
By the time I reached the place where I thought I’d seen my mother, she was gone.
Quentin came running up behind me, wide-eyed and bewildered as he said, “Why did you run off like that?”
“I thought I saw someone,” I said, closing my eyes and sighing. “Somebody I knew. Guess I was wrong.”
“Oh,” said Quentin, and quieted.
We were still standing there, silent, when a voice spoke behind me. “Please do not jump or scream or make any other exclamations of surprise. I am very tired.”
The voice was almost familiar: female and slightly flat, like it had been run through a synthesizer. But it was an adult voice, not a child’s. I turned. “Hello, April.”
“Hello.” April had changed in the last month, going from a teenager to someone that could have been Jan’s twin, if you ignored the blonde hair and too-perfect skin. When she grew up, she grew up fast. She was wearing a black dress made of some glittering material that I suspected was actually solid light. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Quentin was gaping. I understood the impulse.
“We couldn’t miss it,” I said. “I didn’t think we’d see you here.”
“Elliot has used my mother’s notes to establish a portable server unit. It only works for short periods, but it expands my range of motion considerably.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“April?” Quentin asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes,” she said, and smiled sadly. I looked at her expression, and realized she’d had a crush on him at ALH. Had; past tense. However strong it might have been, it was over now.
She’d outgrown him.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
Elliot walked up behind her, leaning on his cane. He looked battered, but at least he was moving. “Toby,” he said.
“You made it,” I said.
“I had to.” We embraced. It was a short, awkward thing; I was being careful not to hurt him, and he didn’t seem to know how to balance his cane. Still, I think we both felt better by the time I pulled away. “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Elliot.”
He looked toward Quentin, asking, “How are the Hippocampi doing?”
Quentin blushed as I looked at him, brows raised. “You took the Hippocampi?” I asked.
“They were a gift,” he mumbled.
“Cool.” I turned back to Elliot and April. “Is Alex . . . ?”
“He didn’t want to leave our lands,” April said. I was right about Terrie: when dawn came again, she’d turned back into Alex, and awoke. Every sunset brought on the same collapse. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t feeling up to going out.
“I’m sorry,” Quentin said.
“We’re going to have to wait and see whether he recovers. Still, we thank you for all your help. None of us would be here without you.” April offered her hand, and I took it, squeezing. Her fingers felt faintly unreal. I knew better.
“Not a problem,” I said. April is too young and strange to share the standard prejudices about certain things—like saying thank you. Watching her grow into herself was going to be a lot of fun.
The arguments over succession in Tamed Lightning were venomous, but in the end, tradition won. April was Jan’s daughter and the knowe recognized her as such, and so—in the absence of another legal heir—the County was hers. There would be no dissolution and no war; just a bit more healthy chaos. Duchess Riordan would have to wait.
In a way, April’s assumption of her mother’s throne was the final, most bitter irony of all. She’d been a killer when she was too young and alien to understand what she did, and Faerie forgave her for her ignorance; Gordan led her astray, and for the justice of Faerie, that was enough. If she’d stayed ignorant, we might have called her a monster and killed her anyway, for our own protection . . . but she didn’t. Her mother’s death forced her to become a real person, and now that she understood her own crimes, she was fighting to undo them. By understanding her own guilt, she became innocent again.
Elliot started to say something, but stopped as Sylvester stepped to the center of the grove, clearing his throat. The murmur of the crowd faded, replaced