“Charming.” I glanced Li Qin’s way again as I drove. She was frowning. “Sorry.”

“I offered,” she said.

“Still.” I sighed. “So, new topic. Not to be rude or anything, but I’m pretty up on my fae taxonomy, and I’ve never seen a member of your race before. What are you?”

“That’s because not many of us live in North America, and most of the ones who do are in Southern California, Montreal, or Texas. We had a colony in San Francisco, but we moved to more stable ground shortly before the 1906 earthquake.” Li Qin shook her head. “We’re called Shyi Shuai. We…read luck, for lack of a better way of putting it.”

That explained how they’d been able to move to stable ground before the earthquake, rather than joining the exodus from the Bay Area that followed it. “Huh,” I said. “Neat.” I meant that, too. Now that I had the taste of her bloodline filed in my memory, I’d be able to identify any other Shyi Shuai purebloods or changelings I might encounter. “Who claims you?”

“Maeve,” said Li Qin. She gave me a sidelong look. “Now, to be polite, I must ask you the same question. Your squire is Daoine Sidhe. April informs me you’re not, although she says you once told her you were. What are you, and who claims you?”

“In my defense, I wasn’t lying at the time; I was misinformed,” I said. “I’m Dóchas Sidhe. My mother, Amandine, is our Firstborn, and Oberon was her father, so I suppose technically he claims us. No one else has put in a bid, anyway.”

“Dóchas Sidhe?” Li Qin frowned. “That’s familiar, somehow.”

“What? Where did you—”

“I don’t know. I think…the Library. I came here from Southern California a long time ago, to study there. I wanted to chart the genealogy of the Shyi Shuai in North America. I think that’s where I heard that name before. I’m sorry.” Li Qin shook her head, frown deepening. “I don’t really remember. It was a footnote, if that.”

“Right,” I said, and fell silent, pondering. The Libraries are the repository of fae history, going all the way back to the beginning. They’re invaluable resources…if you can get a pass, something that’s not always easy. I’d never even bothered to try. The librarians don’t let many people past their doors, and as a changeling, I was automatically at the bottom of their list.

Quentin’s had time to learn how to recognize my “I’m thinking, leave me alone” silences. He leaned forward, poking his head over the back of the seats, and asked Li Qin, “So why’d you stay up here, if you just came to study?”

“The usual reason,” said Li Qin. “I met a girl. Fell in love. Decided to stick around while she did a variety of insane, occasionally impossible things. Got married. Adopted a Dryad. Did my best to live happily ever after.”

“Oh,” said Quentin. Then he asked the one question I wasn’t sure how to word: “Why weren’t you here?”

“Because Jan asked me to leave,” said Li Qin. “The situation was…complicated. My luck was tangled, and everything I could see, or get Yui to scry for, said it was tangled because it contained a potential death—my death. We agreed it was best for me to go and see some family in Montreal while I worked past the knot. By the time I heard what had happened, it was too late. I couldn’t even come to the funeral.”

Yui had been Tamed Lightning’s Kitsune alchemist. If she told Jan that Li Qin had to leave or die, Jan would have listened. I still winced. “I—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry for my loss.” A smile ghosted across her lips. “Twice was more than enough.”

“I lost my boyfriend recently,” I said quietly. “It’s not the same thing, but it’s in the same family. I can’t imagine losing a spouse.”

“Pray you never have to,” she recommended, and turned to look out the window, plainly signaling that she wanted a break from the conversation. It was something I was more than happy to give her.

Connor was a Selkie, and I was a relatively weak changeling when we met. We always knew we wouldn’t have forever, even if everything in the universe went our way—and that’s something that never happened, for either of us. I lost him too soon, but I always knew on some level that the loss was coming. Jan and Li Qin were both purebloods. They had every reason to think they had forever, or at least the next best thing. Losing her like that must have seemed impossible. Sadly for all of us, it wasn’t.

“Take the next exit and follow the signs to the Museum of Science,” said Li Qin, breaking the silence that had fallen over the car. I nodded and followed her directions.

Downtown San Jose looked disturbingly like downtown in a hundred other American cities, a mixture of towering office buildings, obscenely large hotels, green patches of park, and museums meant to titillate and enthrall the tourists, causing them to spend more money before heading for home. The Museum of Science fit right in, tucked as it was between a chain restaurant and a park that promised dire fines for anyone seen walking a dog.

“Pull into the parking garage, and head for the lower level,” said Li Qin.

A machine at the mouth of the garage gave me a piece of paper with a timestamp on it and lots of small print telling me how much it would cost if I lost my ticket. I was starting to think San Jose existed solely to charge me for things I didn’t know were against the rules.

The parking garage was about half-full, but I drove past the open spots on the first two levels anyway, heading for the bottom. “Now what?”

“Now drive into that wall.” Li Qin pointed at a patch of blank concrete.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I sighed, and hit the gas. There was a faint electric tingle as we passed through the seemingly solid stone and into the Summerlands. I immediately stepped on the brake, looking around. “Um.”

“Weird,” said Quentin.

“Welcome to Dreamer’s Glass,” said Li Qin.

We had driven out of a parking garage and into…a parking garage. This one was constructed in what seemed to be a natural cavern; the walls I could see were ragged stone, and the ceiling was so high it disappeared into shadow. Globes of glowing witchlight floated about twenty feet up, casting their rays down on the jarringly mundane grid of white lines painted in the middle of the cavern floor, marking out the parking spaces. Most of them were full.