“Delightful,” grumbled Tybalt.

“You don’t get worked up over Manx cats.”

“Missing a tail is nothing like missing all your hair,” said Tybalt primly.

I snorted laughter, and took another drink of coffee. That was all I had time for before an unfamiliar voice from behind us said, “Oh, you met Ripley. She’s granting you a great favor, you know. She doesn’t always let first-timers see her. Now what’s this about a sister?”

This time, when I tasted the air to feel out the heritage of those around us, I got more than just Dóchas and Cait Sidhe. The flavor of Tuatha de Dannan overlaid them both, strong and very, very close. Lowering my coffee, I turned. Tybalt turned with me.

The voice had come from what looked like a perfectly normal shop girl. She was wearing jeans, and a black shirt with red cap sleeves and the store’s logo printed across the chest. Each of her ears had been pieced three times, something that was easy to notice, since we were almost the same height. Her eyes were two different colors, one brown, one so blue it was almost disconcerting, and her hair was chestnut brown, worn long. Her bangs overhung her eyes, and her skin was even paler than mine. She was looking at us with cheerful curiosity, like she couldn’t wait to help with our question, and for a moment I hated myself for coming here to drag this girl back into the world she’d clearly walked away from when her father died. I knew all too well what it was to have people putting their expectations of your parents onto your shoulders. It wasn’t fair of us to come here and ask this of her.

It wasn’t fair for the Queen of the Mists to bring goblin fruit into the city. It wasn’t fair for me to be exiled from my home. The Luidaeg was right: Faerie isn’t fair. Maybe it was never meant to be.

“There’s no sister,” I said, talking fast to get the words out before the human clerk came back. “Well. I have a sister, but she’s never been here. None of us have. Your charms made sure of that, Your Highness, and I know they’ve kept you safe for a long time, but it’s time to stop hiding. Your Kingdom needs you.”

Her eyes widened. Then they narrowed, taking on a calculating cast as she looked from me to Tybalt and back again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please leave, or I’ll tell Jude you’re harassing me, and she’ll call the police.”

“Princess.” Tybalt’s voice was a slow rumble. She turned to him, expression melting toward confusion. He has that effect on most women, including me. “I knew your father. He was a good man, and he equipped you with the means to hide yourself for good reason. I was a reluctant Prince, in my own time, and I know the terror of the throne. I claimed mine when to do otherwise would have been to fail my people. Can you owe your people any less?”

“I don’t know who you people are or what you want, but you need to leave,” she said. “Now.”

The store was still empty, and Jude hadn’t reappeared. I decided to push things a little farther before giving up. I took a breath, and said, “Your name is Arden Windermere. Your father was King Gilad Windermere. I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing since he died, but the Mists needs you. I need you.” I reached into my jacket pocket, relieved when the firefly inside responded by climbing onto my fingertip.

The firefly’s glow brightened as I pulled it out into the open air of the shop. It rose on only slightly-battered wings to fly to Arden, hovering in front of her startled eyes for a moment before doing a loop around her head and finally landing on her chest like a strange, living jewel.

“We don’t have the wrong girl,” I said.

Arden looked down at the firefly clinging to her shirt. Then she looked up again, sorrow and despair warring in her eyes. “Don’t do this,” she begged. “Whoever you are, whatever you want, don’t do this. Leave. Walk away. Don’t make me refuse you again.”

“We can’t,” I said. “But if you’d like to talk about it in private, we’d be happy to listen.”

Her expression sharpened, turning almost feral. It was the sort of wary, assessing look I’d seen on the face of every child Devin had ever brought Home, the kind of look that knew there was no help coming. “How do I know you’re not working for her?”

There was no question of who Arden meant when she said “her”: a Princess hiding in her own kingdom would have no need to refer to anyone with that much bitterness unless she was talking about the person who held the throne that should have been hers. “The Queen of the Mists hates me more than just about anyone else,” I said. “Maybe she hates you more, if she knows you exist, but I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not her creature. If you need proof of that, well. She banished me last night. I have three days to get out of the Kingdom.”

“I am a King of Cats,” said Tybalt. “My loyalty is first to my people, second to my lady, and lastly to myself. The Kings and Queens of the Divided Courts have no power over me.”

Arden shook her head. Then she turned to the office and shouted, “Jude, I need to spend some more time with these folks, okay? Tell Madden I’ll be downstairs if he needs me.”

“Okay . . .” Jude’s answering call sounded dubious. Arden clapped a hand over the firefly on her chest just before the mortal woman emerged from the back room, wrapping her fingers around it. She put her hand behind her back, offering Jude a sickly smile. Jude blinked and then frowned, giving us a suspicious look. “Ardith? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. I just have the things I promised to give to her sister downstairs.” Arden shot me a panicked look as she realized she didn’t know what to call me.

“I’m October, by the way,” I said, to Jude. I tried to make it look like a normal introduction. I probably failed.

Tybalt, naturally, was cool as ever. “Rand,” he said, smiling. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Uh-huh,” said Jude. She was looking more suspicious by the second. “Ardith, are you sure you don’t want me to keep your friends company up here while you go get whatever you need from the basement?”

“I’m sure,” Arden said. “Just tell Madden where I am.”

“Right.” Jude stepped behind the counter. Her smile did not reappear.