Free Full of Briars by Seanan McGuire Page B

they needed to be. Quentin Sollys: the Once and Future King of Spiders.
    â€œMother, Father,” I said, folding my hands behind my back and offering a shallow but respectful bow. “I’m so pleased to see that you’ve made it here safely.” I turned, offering a slightly deeper bow to the newly confirmed Queen. “Queen Windermere in the Mists. Congratulations on the moment of your ascension.”
    Mom and Dad blinked at me, nonplussed. Arden looked baffled. Toby, who had stopped pacing when my parents appeared, burst out laughing.
    I turned to glare at her, momentarily forgetting myself in my annoyance. Unfortunately, moving meant getting a look at May and Tybalt. May had her hands pressed over her mouth, keeping her laughter contained, although she couldn’t keep her nostrils from flaring. Tybalt wasn’t laughing, but wore a look of such deep, profound amusement that it was clear he would have been, if it hadn’t been an undignified way to say hello to a group of monarchs.
    Toby stopped laughing. “Oh, Oberon’s ass, I just laughed in front of the High King. Oh, crap, I just swore in front of the High King. Oh—”
    â€œLoath as I am to disrupt this comedic treasure, I do not want my beloved to give herself an aneurysm over proper behavior,” said Tybalt. He flowed to his feet like liquid, offering my parents and Arden the shallowest of bows. “Milady Windermere, allow me to be among the first to formally congratulate you on your assumption of the throne. May it grow comfortable beneath you, and may you never have cause to regret your choice of seating.”
    â€œI think you’re supposed to call me ‘Highness’ now,” said Arden.
    Tybalt smirked. “No. Everyone else is meant to call you ‘Highness’ now. I’m to call you whatever strikes my fancy, and you’re to feel fortunate that I speak to you at all. Not every monarch of the Divided Courts is so blessed.”
    â€œCase in point,” said Dad. “Our local King of Cats hasn’t come to see us in over a decade. There could have been a coup for all we know.”
    â€œThat is not necessarily something to be proud of,” said Tybalt.
    Dad shrugged. “Maybe not. Still, we don’t make trouble for him, and he doesn’t make trouble for us, and it all works out. Sir Daye, if you’re done looking horrified, would you like to introduce us to the rest of the room?”
    â€œOh! Uh. I.” Toby looked even more flustered. She pointed to Tybalt. “King Tybalt of the Court of Dreaming Cats.”
    Tybalt nodded regally.
    â€œThat’s, uh, May over there. May Daye. She’s sort of my sister.” Toby glanced to May. “I mean, technically, we’re related.”
    May lowered her hands and beamed at my parents. “You ever watch
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
? It’s like when the monk dudes made Dawn out of Buffy to hide the fact that she’s the Key, only no one was hiding anything when I was made. I’m just her Fetch. Nowhere near as complicated.”
    Mom looked nonplussed. “Her . . . Fetch?”
    â€œThis happened before you let Quentin become my squire,” said Toby, and shot me a sharp look. “I thought you’d know.”
    I did my best to look innocent. “I told them the broad strokes.”
    â€œBut he’s been your squire for more than a year, Sir Daye,” said Mom, focusing on Toby. “How can you have had a Fetch for so long without dying? It seems odd.”
    â€œIt is,” said Toby. “May’s still my Fetch—she looks like me, or like I used to look, she has my memories, all the usual stuff—but she’s not my death omen anymore. It’s complicated.”
    For the first time, the corner of Mom’s mouth twitched. “Funny. That’s how Quentin describes things when he bothers to write home.”
    â€œI can’t blame him for