Page 11 of Once Broken Faith

Tybalt was silent. Seconds stretched out like taffy until I opened my eyes, disturbed by the sudden weight of the air. I rolled over and sat up in the same motion, gathering the sheets up around my collarbone as I turned to look at him.

He was worth looking at, under any circumstances. Most fae are either beautiful by human standards or completely alien and inhuman, covered in leaves or feathers or spines. Tybalt managed to straddle the line between the two. His face was lovely; his body was better. But his pupils were cat-slit narrow, against irises the banded color of malachite, and there were black tabby stripes in the brown of his hair. When he was distracted or distressed, as he was now, more stripes appeared on his skin. They were visible as I faced him, curving up the sides of his ribs and wrapping around his arms.

“Tybalt?” I said.

“If the conclave is to be held next week, it’s reasonable that no invitation has yet been sent to us; perhaps one was always intended and perhaps not. Now that I’m aware a conclave is to occur at all, I must attend, or take it as an insult from a Court that has often been far too willing to dismiss us,” he said. He sat up, reaching out to cup the curve of my cheek with his hand. “I love you. You know that, yes?”

I blinked. “Okay, now you’re worrying me. Of course I know that you love me.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me, sweet and slow. Only the tension in his hand betrayed the fact that all was not well, that this wasn’t just some sweet gesture motivated by affection. Something was really wrong.

Because of that, I was already braced when he pulled back and said, “I have to go.”

“Why?” The question came out harsher than I’d intended. I didn’t try to take it back or temper it. I knew I had to share him with his Court, but Oberon’s teeth, I’d already done that today. He was supposed to be with me for at least a night before he left again.

“Because my Court will need to be told that so many monarchs of the Divided are coming to our territory; because you are a daughter of the Divided Courts, and until I know whether they intend to shun us or curry our favor, I mustn’t seem to have already been pacified. I must seem aloof. Because I need to prepare myself to walk among Kings and Queens who stand too much on ceremony as their equal.” His smile was brief and wry. “I am their equal, of course; I am a King. But they’ll look for any excuse to say that I’m less than they are.”

I caught his meaning. I didn’t want to. Shoulders going tight, I asked, “Excuses like arriving next to a knight who swears to the throne of the Mists? One who might have ‘pacified’ you?”

He didn’t answer me. He didn’t need to.

Irritation flared in my chest, hot and toxic as bile. I swallowed it down as best I could. “You should go, then.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” He slid from the bed, grabbed his clothes, and was gone. He didn’t bother getting dressed first. Cait Sidhe are even more casual about nudity than the rest of Faerie. Cats are technically naked under their fur, after all. Combine that with the whole “grooming with their tongues” thing, and body shyness just isn’t an option.

I stared at the place where he’d been, inhaling the mixed scents of pennyroyal and musk. Then I groaned and flopped backward into the pillows, closing my eyes. We were going to make this work. We were going to make this work. The fact that he was the monarch of an independent Court and I was tied inextricably to the Divided Courts wasn’t going to change the fact that we loved each other—and as long as we could keep loving each other, we could find a way through this. We could do it. I was a hero, after all. What was a hero, if not someone who went up against impossible odds, and won?

Sleep claimed me while I was worrying the problem over and over in my head, like a dog with a bone. I fell into tangled, confusing dreams, and found myself looking for Karen in every corner. She could guide the things I dreamed about. Normally, it was nice to have some privacy in my own dreams, but after the day I’d had, being able to say “hey, kiddo, wanna go to the imaginary carnival and eat cotton candy until the sun goes down?” would have been a nice change.

A knock at my bedroom door pulled me back to consciousness at—I checked the clock—a little after two in the afternoon. I sat up, blinking and groggy, clutching the sheet around my chest like it would somehow transform into a nightgown if I wished hard enough. The blackout curtains over my windows kept the light from getting in. So where was the light coming from?

“Toby?”

Oh. The bedroom door was open. I turned to blink blearily in that direction. Jazz, fully dressed and looking far too alert, with the feathered band that held her fae nature tied in her hair, was standing there, grimacing apologetically.

“Huh?” I said.

“You need to get up now.”

I blinked at her again before pointing at the clock. “Nuh-uh.”

“The High King and High Queen are here,” said Jazz. “In the dining room. With May. Drinking lemonade and eating the last of the Rice Krispie treats. Please will you get up now? I’m really not equipped to deal with this.”

The words “High King and High Queen” acted like an electric shock to the part of my brain that had been trying to drag me back to sleep. I stiffened. “They’re where?”

“In the dining room. Are you up?”

“I’m up,” I confirmed. I paused. “Is Quentin?”

Jazz shook her head. “They, um, asked us to let him sleep.”

Great. So this wasn’t a social visit: it was a job evaluation. “I’ll be right down.”

“Good. Hurry.” Jazz shut the door, leaving me alone in my darkened bedroom.

Most fae are nocturnal, which means we have excellent night vision. I got up and got dressed without turning on the lights, retrieving yesterday’s jeans from the floor and digging a charcoal gray tank top out of my drawer. Most of my wardrobe is designed not to show the blood. That sort of thing was an occupational hazard for me, and I didn’t enjoy shopping, which meant that darker colors were better.

I didn’t have time for a shower, but I had time to run a brush through my hair and take a quick, critical look at myself in the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep. Well, that was the High King’s fault. He could deal with it.