The man grabbed for his sword. The Luidaeg raised her hand, whispering something I couldn’t hear, and all four of them froze. They stayed that way for several minutes. I knew the Luidaeg was speaking—the wind brought me enough of her voice for that—but not what she was saying. Maybe that was for the best. Finally, she turned and walked back to us.

“That’s done,” she said. “Let’s go to the apartment. It’s a nice morning, but there’s so much traffic on these streets.”

Except for the Queen’s men, we hadn’t seen a soul. “What did you do?”

“Nothing they hadn’t allowed by coming onto my territory. Every soul who came here on the Queen’s business will go home, go to bed, and sleep soundly, dreaming the sweetest of dreams.”

Something about that statement had teeth. I paused, and then ventured, “For how long?”

The Luidaeg smiled brilliantly. “Until something wakes them up. True love, childbirth, and bees are all on the table.”

It seemed grossly unfair. I knew better than to say anything about it. As the Luidaeg was so fond of pointing out, Faerie isn’t fair, and as a punishment, it was entirely in line with what the stories said she’d do. Instead, I just nodded. “Let’s go.”

No one bothered us on the way back to her place. I was unsurprised to see that the illusory mess she created for my benefit was back when she opened the door. “Come in. I don’t have all day.”

“Neither do I,” I said, following her inside. “Did you send me to look for information on King Gilad because you wanted me to start looking for Arden Windermere?”

“You mean Her Highness the Crown Princess in the Mists, even if she wasn’t formally recognized,” said the Luidaeg, and smiled. “Good girl. This way.” She started for the living room. We followed her.

She was already on her knees in front of an old oak sea chest when we got there, throwing things randomly to the floor as she dug them out. “Gilad and his lover never married, because he feared that what had happened to his parents would happen to his wife and children, if he ever publicly acknowledged them,” she said, as soon as we were close enough to hear. “So he hid her, for her own protection, and they raised their children in secrecy. But some of us knew. Some of us had to know.” She looked up and smiled, baring her teeth in a distinctly predatory fashion. “Some of us had to craft the charms that hid them.”

“You told the shallowing in Muir Woods that Arden lived,” I said. “King Gilad’s children survived the earthquake.”

“Yes, but they were in no shape to claim the throne, and by the time they were ready, the pretender was already in place.” She produced a glass flask from the chest. It was small, the sort of thing that used to be sold off the back of snake oil wagons, filled with unidentified tinctures and too dear by half. She gave it a shake as she stood. It lit up from within. “They were tired, and heartsick, and they’d never expected to inherit the Kingdom that way. They walked away.”

“But they did not abdicate,” said Tybalt. “They never renounced their claim to the throne.”

“And the kitty earns his keep!” The Luidaeg tapped her nose and offered me the glowing flask. “Here.”

This close, I could see that it was full of live fireflies. I took it anyway, asking, “What am I supposed to do with these?”

“Find Arden. I know she’s alive. I don’t know about her brother—I lost track of him after the War of Silences—but she’s alive, hidden by charms I helped craft when she was a baby.” The Luidaeg smiled wryly. “Magic’s a bitch that way. But if you want to stop the goblin fruit, you have to change the law. Since the current Queen won’t do that, you need to change the person who makes the law.”

“And since the Queen has exiled me, this is the perfect time for me to try.” I peered through the side of the flask. “So how will these help me find Arden?”

“She’ll be in a place that anyone who claims allegiance to the Mists never sees—a place you don’t want to go, because it doesn’t exist for you. As long as you keep one of those,” she nodded toward the fireflies, “with you at all times, you’ll see through any illusions in your way. They’ll burn brighter in the presence of my magic, to light your way, and if you set them on the wing, they’ll do their best to chase it down. I caught them myself, on the moors of Annwn, and bathed them for a full month in the moonlight of Tirn Aill. I made them, so I can’t use them, but you can. Each one will glow for a full day once you let it out. If that’s enough . . .”

I counted fireflies. “Ten glowing bugs to help me find a missing Princess protected by charms you can’t see through. After that, all I have to do is depose the current Queen of the Mists, convince Arden to take the throne, and get myself un-banished. Oh, yeah. Piece of cake.” I scowled at the Luidaeg. “Don’t you believe in easy quests?”

“No.” She smiled again. At least this time there was a trace of sympathy in her expression. Not much, but I’d take what I could get. “I don’t want you getting bored.”

“Right.” I looked at Tybalt, and then at the flask of fireflies. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s a risk right now.”

“It never is, with you,” said Tybalt.

“Well, okay.” I slipped the flask into the inside pocket of my jacket, checking twice to be sure it was secure. “Let’s go find a Princess.”

EIGHT

“YOU REALIZE THIS IS one of those things far easier said than done,” Tybalt said, as we stepped out of the Luidaeg’s apartment. “I have some acquaintance with princesses. In my experience, they tend to be either blazingly obvious, or so well-concealed as to be practically invisible.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have magical Princess-finding bugs to help us, isn’t it?” I paused. “I can’t believe I just said those words, in that order, like they meant something. I need coffee.”

Tybalt chuckled richly. Sadly, that just made it harder not to think about coffee. “Is there any time in your life when you do not feel the need for caffeine?”

“Sure. Sometimes I’m asleep.” I pulled the flask out of my pocket, peering at the fireflies. “They look pretty happy in there.”