“The key unlocks a series of very old roads that can sometimes verge on the edge of deeper Faerie,” said Ginevra. “Using it requires opening a door. We expect you’ll be able to access the Thorn Road that way, since you’ve done it before. It’s one of the kinder of the old paths. Not very pretty, and you have to be wary of the briars, but if you can get there, it considers the toll already paid.”
“I’ve never heard of this,” said Father.
“You wouldn’t have,” said Ginevra. “It was opened for the use of the children of Maeve, when they needed to flee from their brighter brethren. Part of the history of my Faerie,” she added, seeing the baffled looks on our faces. “I’m sure Titania has rewritten events in this world to show her in a better light. But where I come from, the children of Maeve needed to hide sometimes, and the Thorn Road was one of the ways they did it.”
“And you think I’ve been there before?” I asked.
“The October I know has absolutely been there before,” she said. “I don’t think even Titania can change the memories of an object, since they’re more about sympathy and resonance than actual recall.” She looked at the key, seeming suddenly concerned. “If she has, maybe this was all for nothing.”
“Maybe I can try to do that spell-seeing thing you were talking about, and check?” offered August.
I blinked at her. She shrugged.
“We don’t know if I can do the same thing you can. Maybe this is a way to find out.”
“If you want to try,” I said.
“I do.” August reached for the abandoned steak knife at Tybalt’s place, shooting Father a quelling look. He didn’t say anything or move to stop her.
With a quick, easy grace that clearly came from years of practice, August sliced the tip of her finger and brought it to her mouth. I tensed. If her blood, like mine, showed her memories of this other world, I had no idea what she was going to see.
But her training had been so much more extensive than my own, in that she’d received actual lessons in controlling her blood magic, and she must have shunted the memories away before they could begin, focusing on the key.
“Close your eyes,” I suggested. “Just close your eyes and try to see the key anyway.”
August closed her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed, coming together as she tried to focus. Finally, she sighed and opened her eyes again, hand already healed as she lowered it to the table. “I didn’t see anything,” she said. “Maybe you’re right, and this isn’t something I can do.”
“Maybe it just takes more practice? But I can still try to open this door,” I said to Ginevra. “I said I’d try your key, and I will. But only if Tybalt doesn’t come with us. I don’t like the way he looks at me.”
“I’ll go too,” said August.
“No,” said Father, more wearily this time. “I’m sorry, but no. I refuse to go home and tell your mother I’ve misplaced both of our daughters, should something go wrong in this . . . this ridiculous undertaking. I wish I could prevent your sister from joining in the foolishness, but she’s correct when she says she didn’t set any of this in motion, and she’s of age.”
“She lives in your household,” said August. “Her being of age shouldn’t matter.”
I wanted to ask her whose side she was on there, but Father looked like he was on the verge of tears; interrupting wasn’t going to help.
“She no longer lives in the tower,” he said.
August paled. “What? You’re throwing her out because she isn’t doing what you want?”
“He’s not,” I said, as I stood with my salmon still half-eaten, delicious as it was. “August, we’ve already been over this. I can’t go back to the Mists. They’ll execute me. If I’m an exile, I don’t live in the tower anymore. I live wherever the King and Queen on the Golden Shore decide I do.”
She visibly wilted, sinking into her chair with a soft sigh. “Oh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“October, please be safe,” said Father, turning back to me. “Garm and Grianne can accompany you. My brother owes me that much, for setting all this in motion.”
I had almost forgotten my uncle’s knights, they’d been so quiet through this whole messy argument. I turned to see them murmuring between themselves, conspiratorially, Grianne’s Merry Dancers circling their heads. The two of them looked back at me, and Grianne slowly rose.
“I’m staying here,” said Garm. “We know October can see whatever spell has been cast to entangle us all, and as of this moment, we know the Lady August can’t. I can’t see it the same way October can, but I can perceive the edges, and that may be an advantage.”
“You talk as if we’re going to war,” said Father sourly.
“I fear we might be,” Garm replied.
It was hard not to take comfort from Grianne moving to stand behind me, a familiar presence, if not a close friend. I returned my attention to Ginevra. “Do you need to go and find Tybalt, to tell him we’re doing this without him?”
“Sir Garm will do it,” she said, airily leaving the responsibility on someone else’s shoulders. It was almost impressive. She rose, smooth and easy, and bowed to my father. “I do apologize for the necessary loan of your daughter, and I understand this is difficult for you. Please try to believe me when I tell you this is difficult for us, also, and that we want nothing more than to bring her home unharmed.”
I noticed she didn’t say “return her to you.” Father noticed as well. He frowned, a flash of something like understanding in his eyes.
“You said my daughter had a close relationship to the Court of Cats in your world,” he said. “Swear to me that you’ll protect her. If she’s harmed, I’ll set myself against you until my dancing ends, and you’ll have no peace ever again.”
It wasn’t a shock that Father would be willing to defend me. It still chipped away at my resentment, replacing a tiny stretch of it with warmth.
Ginevra looked at him steadily. “She has walked our halls and dined from our stores, and she counts many friends among our number,” she said, voice grave. “I’ll protect her with my own life.”
“Swear.”
“On the root and the branch, I will keep her safe.”
Father nodded, apparently accepting her words.
Ginevra put a hand on my arm. “We should go.”
“I can’t just walk away without acknowledging the King and Queen,” I said, and turned to the high table, curtseying, although not as deeply as I had when I was presented. Chrysanthe looked amused, elbowing her husband to get him to look over at me. He raised his cup and nodded, granting us leave to go.
“Cats don’t stand with that sort of formality,” said Ginevra, closing her hand and pulling me along with her as she started for the door. Grianne trailed gamely along behind us, and for the second time in not nearly long enough, I left my family behind.
SIXTEEN
“THIS WILL WORK BETTER if we’re outside, and Tybalt will kill me—I mean straight-up murder me—if I try to take you through the Shadow Roads, so we need to figure out how to get out of here,” said Ginevra, once we were out of the ballroom and walking down the wide, golden hall.