“No. You did something exactly right. Look, I’m going to be running around a lot until all this is taken care of. Someone needs to be able to make decisions when I’m not here. You’ve got the job, if you want it.”

“What?” She blinked at me, anxiety fading into confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m making you my seneschal, Marcia. I should have done it months ago. I’m sorry.”

“But—wait—really?”

“Yeah, really. It’ll be my next official decree.”

A smile broke through her amazement. “You should probably start making those, then.”

“Yeah, probably.” I turned to Tybalt. “Did you get all that?”

“Heard, and witnessed,” he said formally. Offering a deep bow to Marcia, he asked, “May I be the first to congratulate the new Seneschal of Goldengreen?”

Marcia, looking stunned, just giggled.

“Okay, good.” I looked between the two of them. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of, Tybalt and I need to get to Shadowed Hills. Can you manage things here?”

Marcia nodded mutely.

“Good. If you need anything, if you have any trouble at all, call the apartment. May is there, and she can get me a message. Otherwise—”

“My subjects can always find me,” said Tybalt.

“That, too,” I said. Stepping forward, I gave Marcia a quick hug. “You’re going to be fine. Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” she whispered, and hugged me back. “I’ll make you proud of me.”

“You already have. Open roads, Marcia.”

“Open roads,” she echoed.

I turned and walked back the way we’d come. Tybalt followed close behind me, leaving Marcia standing shell-shocked next to the fountain.

Pitching his voice low, he said, “That was a kindness.”

“No.” I smiled. “That was the right thing to do.”

He gave me a thoughtful look, and nodded, not saying anything else as we left the knowe and walked to the car. He didn’t wait to be asked this time, but shifted straight to cat form, leaping through my open door to settle, purring, on the passenger seat.

“Hope you like nineties rock,” I said, and turned the radio on, blasting Meatloaf. He was willing to do anything for love. Tybalt, meanwhile, was willing to take a nap while I drove. Cats never change.

The lack of traffic extended past San Francisco. The Bay Bridge was practically deserted, and we made good time all the way to Paso Nogal Park, in Pleasant Hill. That’s where the mortal side of Sylvester’s demesne is anchored.

The parking lot was empty when we arrived. No surprise there—humans find the park unsettling at night. It’s filled with strange shadows and noises they can’t explain. Standing on an active knowe can do that to people, and the rose goblins that throng around the place are fond of playing tricks on mortals. There’s not much I can do about that. If Luna won’t control the rose goblins, I certainly can’t.

I left Tybalt’s door open as I stepped away from the car, studying the park, and waited there until I heard the door close behind me. “Now what?” asked Tybalt.

“Now?” I turned to face him. “Now we go in.”

He eyed me. “I don’t suppose they’ve installed a more convenient door since the last time I was here?”

“You are feeling optimistic tonight.” On a whim, I reached over and took his arm. “Come on.”

I know the route into Shadowed Hills better than almost anyone—practice makes perfect—but that didn’t stop Tybalt from practically running rings around me all the way up the hill. I was in the best shape of my life. Tybalt was still better, a point that was driven home when he reached the top of the hill a full ten steps ahead of me.

He smirked. “Should we take the long way next time?”

“Very funny.” A door appeared in the hollow oak. I knocked three times, and had barely pulled my hand away when the door opened, revealing a short, sleek-haired woman with gauzy mayfly’s wings. She looked harried, but she smiled when she saw me.

“Toby! Hey, honey, I was just thinking about you. Largely in the capacity of ‘I wonder what she’s managed to break recently,’ sure, but . . .” She trailed off when she spotted Tybalt. She tilted her head, wings twitching. “The King of Dreaming Cats, I presume?”

“You presume correctly,” said Tybalt.

“Hi, Jin,” I said. “Is the Duke in? I need to see him.”

Jin’s been Sylvester’s personal physician for as long as I can remember, but she’s only been short and dark for a few months. Ellyllon change appearance periodically, shedding their old skins like butterflies breaking out of cocoons. She swears it isn’t any more painful than losing a few strands of hair when you brush. I find that difficult to believe. Still, to each their own.

“Given that people are taking potshots at his Undersea equivalent during formal events? Yes, he’s in.” She offered Tybalt her hand. “I’m Jin.”

“Tybalt.” He took her hand and kissed it before letting go. “A pleasure.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Jin smiled wearily before turning to head into the knowe. “Come on. His Grace will want to see you.”

“Right,” I said, and stepped inside.

The entrance hall was bustling with pages and courtiers, all shuttling fabric-wrapped bundles into the ballroom. I looked toward Jin, raising an eyebrow in silent question. She shook her head.

“Not my place, Toby, so don’t even ask.”

“Right,” I repeated, frowning as I followed her down the hall. Tybalt paced silently behind me. I took an odd degree of comfort from his presence.

Jin stopped at the throne room doors, giving us an apologetic look. “This is where I leave you,” she said. “I have some things I need to take care of. I only got the door because everybody else was busy.”

“I’m pretty sure we can handle it from here,” I said.

“Good.” Jin squinted at me. “You’re tired. Please get some sleep once you’ve made sure we don’t have to host a war.”

“Is that an order?” I asked, amused.

“Mmmm.” She turned to Tybalt. “You’re a big boy. If she doesn’t go to bed on her own, get some rope and tie her down.”