Page 69 of The Innocent Sleep

“Okay, shit’s fucked,” she announced. “I think we should all do quiet time until October wakes up and is ready to talk, because nothing’s getting done until that happens.”

NINETEEN

THE FALLOUT FROM ARDEN’S announcement was precisely what I would have predicted: everyone started talking at once, and was still talking when the door opened and Chrysanthe returned, followed by two servers with refreshment trays. She paused for a moment, taking in the scene in front of her with wide, puzzled eyes and then, when no one stopped their frantic requests for clarification, clapped her hands loudly, and yelled, “Everyone shut the hell up!”

Divided Courts or Court of Cats, it doesn’t matter: when a Queen yells, you stop talking. The room went silent, everyone turning toward her like flowers turning toward the sun. Chrysanthe scowled as she stomped toward the dais, the effect somewhat spoilt by the dainty tapping of her hooves against the floor.

“Arden,” she said, voice icy. She settled herself back onto her throne, resting her joined hands between her knees. “Care to explain why I came back from the kitchen to find a riot in my receiving room?”

“I didn’t—” Arden began.

Chrysanthe silenced her with a look.

Arden looked down at the floor, twisting a toe against the stone like a child being scolded. It occurred to me that she was in some ways precisely that: she’d been young enough when she and her brother fled to Golden Shore that Chrysanthe and Theron must have functionally raised them.

“I went to Dreamer’s Glass to ask what happened,” she said, not looking up. “Duchess Zhou was pretty much the way she’s been every time I’ve met her, but she had two other people with her. This blonde kid who kept appearing and disappearing—even more than Nolan and I do, it was like she thought taking more than a step was asking something unreasonable of her—and this lady with red-and-brown hair who kept touching her, like they were close, even though I’ve never seen her before. I asked the Duchess who they were, and she said they were her wife and daughter from another world, and that before Etienne took off with October, she ‘removed the veils from January’s eyes’ so she could remember the way the world’s supposed to be.”

“Did they see this as a good thing?” asked Chrysanthe.

“They seemed to. Duchess Zhou said she would have asked October to do the same for her, but that doing it once was almost incapacitating, and Sir Etienne needed her for something. They all seemed to see unlocking January’s memories as something that needed to be done, and that they’d do again.” Arden finally glanced up, frowning. “January said she’d put the little girl—whose name was April, and are people just trying to use up the whole calendar or something? Because I’m starting to feel like I’m in one of those mortal camp groups where everyone’s named ‘Taylor’ or ‘Tyler,’ only it’s all months. Anyway, she said she’d put the little girl inside a computer before the change happened, because she was sure Titania was about to do something, and either these people were telling me some of the biggest, most ridiculous lies I’ve ever heard in my life or shit’s completely fucked. I didn’t want these people to be telling the truth.”

“I know, dear,” said Chrysanthe.

Arden shot one last furious glance toward the rest of us, then opened another circle in the air and vanished again.

“Ironic, given she was just complaining about April’s tendency to flit about as if space were no concern worth attending to,” I said. I glanced to Ginevra. “If she’s back online, do you think Raj’s phone will be working? I’m sure he would like to have someone to exchange test messages with.”

“Text,” said Ginevra. “Do you want to nip over and check on him?”

“We may be here for quite some time. If you wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate the opportunity to clear my head.”

“I’ll hold the fort,” she said, reassuringly. “And if anything changes, you know I’ll come and find you.”

“I do.” I bowed to the dais before taking several steps back and diving into shadow. The cold air was like a slap to my face, stinging and snapping me back into the shape of my own skin. October could break Titania’s enchantment. Of course she could—she’d been able to free me, after all, when Titania had seized me as a weapon against her. She could free them all, if only we had time enough.

Which we wouldn’t. As soon as the work started in earnest, Titania would realize something was wrong and come looking for us. Even if she didn’t, time was not on our side. Why, why had Mary insisted that we had to wait this long? If it had just been a matter of finding an excuse for October to leave Shadowed Hills, surely we could have fabricated something before now . . .

Unless there were other reasons this had to happen close to Moving Day.

I ran through the dark, letting the cold, thin air comfort and settle me, until I reached the border of my own Court and stepped out, into the dim glow of oil lanterns burning on every surface. Raj was crouched in the middle of the room, spooning some sort of fish puree into shallow dishes. The kittens he was trying to feed sat and watched him with a patience they would never have extended to any other keeper, feline or fae. They knew their Prince when they beheld him.

He lifted his head as I left the shadows, feeling them shift. After a slow blink, he smiled, hopefully. “Is it done?” he asked. “Is she back?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Oh.” He sagged.

In many ways, this had been as hard on him as it was on me. All his friends were sealed away, locked in other lives; he was trapped in the Court, caught in a constant cycle of service, watching as I, his only real remaining family, sank deeper and deeper into despair. Guilt gripped me. He should never have been asked to shoulder so much.

“But I should see her soon,” I added. “And Arden went to Dreamer’s Glass in an attempt to retrace October’s steps. She saw April. Check your phone. If you still have service, you should be able to text her now.”

Raj blinked again, then scrambled frantically to get the phone from his pocket, nearly dropping the slim metal rectangle several times before he got it out and held it up to check the screen. Then he drooped.

“No texts.”

“She may not realize you’d be receptive,” I offered. “According to Arden, she was reasonably aware of the situation, and could be holding back so as not to confuse people.”

Raj nodded and began tapping away, thumbs moving fast as he composed a message and tossed it off into the ether.