Ashes of Honor

She blinked at me. “He has departed for Dreamer’s Glass. All seven traces indicate a trajectory that would terminate with Chelsea inside the demesne of Duchess Treasa Riordan.”

“Oberon preserve us from fools and heroes,” I muttered. Louder, I asked, “Did he stop to think that maybe he should take some backup with him?”

“He said that he was sure you would be amenable to this course of action.” April paused, eyes widening, before she said indignantly, “I believe he may have lied to me!”

“It happens to the best of us.” I turned to the others. They were watching me like spectators at a tennis match. “We need to get to Dreamer’s Glass.”

“I’m going with you,” said Quentin, and “I’m staying here,” said Li Qin, at the same time. The two paused, turning to blink at each other.

Then Li Qin laughed. “I’m staying here,” she repeated. “I stand the best chance of bailing you out if Riordan catches you in her lands without an invitation, and it’s easier for me to bend your luck if I’m not standing in the middle of a battlefield while I’m trying to do it. I can’t keep anything truly bad away, but I may be able to at least skew the odds slightly in your favor.”

“We’d appreciate that,” I said. I paused, a thought occurring to me. “You’re being awfully nice.”

“I am,” she agreed. “I want something. I’m more likely to get it if you survive.”

“What is it that you want?”

She smiled. “That would be telling.” Before I could get mad, she added, “I’ll explain everything when this is done, and I swear, I expect nothing. I simply want you to be well-inclined toward us when the time comes for me to ask the things that need asking.”

I blinked, glancing toward the others to see if their expressions would give me any idea. Elliot ducked his head and looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. Quentin and Raj looked as confused as I felt. That was reassuring. At least I wasn’t the only one who’d managed to miss the memo. “Fine,” I said, finally. “But you’d better be ready to tell me what’s going on when we’re no longer in mortal peril.”

Elliot laughed. “So in about ten years, then?”

“Something like that.” Now for the harder one. I turned to Raj. “You’re staying.”

His eyes went wide and wounded. “What? You can’t mean that.”

“I can, and I do. Your father tried to kill me earlier today. I don’t want to put you in the line of fire if he comes after me again.” I hesitated before adding, “What he did isn’t your fault, and I’m not rejecting you. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m a Prince of Cats!”

“And as my only heir, I need you to remain here,” said Tybalt. Raj transferred his wounded look to his uncle. Tybalt smiled. “Glare all you like, kitten. You’ll still stay behind.”

“You can’t tell me what to do forever,” said Raj.

“Yes,” agreed Tybalt. “I’m counting on that.”

There was a subtext I wasn’t getting in their conversation. Cait Sidhe successions are generally fatal. I couldn’t imagine Tybalt was looking forward to that. I decided it wasn’t important for the moment, and straightened, saying, “We need to go. Quentin, come on.”

“Okay,” he said, and rose, coming to stand beside me. “What’s the plan?”

“We go in, we find Etienne, we find Chelsea if we can, and we do our best to get out without starting a diplomatic incident too big to stop.” I turned to Tybalt. “You can handle us both?”

“So nice of you to ask me, but yes. I can handle your transport, and that of your stripling, at the same time. More than that may become a strain if it has to be maintained for terribly long, but…” Tybalt shrugged. “That is a bridge to be crossed when we come to it, I suppose.”

“Good.” I offered him my hand, gesturing for Quentin to do the same. “If Chelsea comes back here, try to stop her from leaving, and call me.”

“Someone will contact you,” said April.

“Good. Then let’s—” I stopped myself mid-sentence as a thought struck me. Dropping Tybalt’s hand, I said, briskly, “Come on,” and started at a fast walk toward the cafeteria door.

“She still does that?” asked Elliot.

Tybalt just laughed as he and Quentin followed me out into the hall. I kept walking, heading for the car as quickly as I reasonably could. When I got there, I dug the keys out of my pocket, barely pausing to check the backseat for intruders—long story—before unlocking the passenger side door and grabbing Walther’s cooler from the foot well.

“Oh!” said Quentin, sudden comprehension in his tone. “She’s getting the power dampener Walther brewed for us.”