Page 9 of Kiss of Smoke

Before Gwyn took off again, I reached out, placing my hand on the counter of the booth’s window. “Hey, listen. Leave the gates shut tonight, and get out of here. Go home and lock your doors.”

The Gentry would be upset, but this poor guy…here in Thornwood, where the shadows were deep, no one would hear him screaming for help if the Souls decided to storm his little booth.

Or, if they did hear him screaming, I wasn’t willing to bet too hard on the Gentry’s desire to come help him out.

His ears twitched, then went flat against his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, he slid the glass window shut, and I had a brief glance of him gathering his keys and locking up before Gwyn kicked the bike into motion and glided into the neighborhood.

Oriande’s cameraman followed us closely, taking the turns hard enough that their tires screeched, but we were all well past the point of giving a damn whether we disturbed anyone’s peace or not.

Robin’s house was lit when we arrived. Gwyn stopped the bike, and the van pulled up behind us, parking against the curb.

“Is he already back?” I wondered aloud, already walking up the path.

“Wait!”

I turned and found Oriande scurrying up the path after us. She and the cameraman were both loaded down with duffel bags, holding tripods on their shoulders.

I suppressed a groan. What were they going to do in there? Film the entire next week’s TV segments from Robin’s messy office?

Oriande was a little out of breath when she caught up. “Thanks.” She glanced over shoulder, about as twitchy as the poor Thornwood guard had been.

I couldn’t really blame her for it. I took Gwyn’s hand as I led them to the back of Robin’s house, past the glimmering faerie fruit bushes, and pushed the back door open.

Oriande’s eyes were taking in every minute detail as I dragged myself down the hall and into the living room. I was beginning to feel like piles of bricks had been tied to my feet, and I could’ve happily curled up on the rug and slept like a baby.

No Robin, but something shifted by his desk, and I turned—

And nearly shrieked.

The Seelie Queen sat in his chair, her eyes red-rimmed, golden hair mussed.

For a woman who’d been in the midst of a palace-destroying explosion, she looked like she’d walked through a mild breeze—on the other hand, considering her preternatural beauty, that tiny bit of disarray was shocking on her.

Sisse pushed a steaming cup of tea towards her, her wings jittering. By the Branches, everyone was trembling tonight.

Even Titania’s hand, as she lifted the cup to her lips.

“Your Majesty,” I said belatedly, sweeping a quick bow. Gwyn just nodded to her amiably, which would’ve made me snort with laughter under other circumstances, but Oriande and the cameraman about went down on their knees when they walked into the room and saw their queen sitting there.

To me, it all felt absurd right now. The sight of the queen sitting at Robin’s explosion of a workspace was almost too much. I was starting to enter that phase of exhaustion where simple things became hysterically funny for no reason.

“Enough,” Titania said coolly.

I rose from my bow, wavering in place. Sisse waved a hand at me. “Come here, Briallen. Drink some. You look like you could use it.”

I glanced at Titania, and the queen nodded curtly. Clearly, tonight was no night to stand on ceremony.

So it was with much gratitude that I sank into the chair across from her and poured myself a cup of tea.

“What did you get into, Agent Appletree?” the Queen asked, eyeing me over her cup. “Or should I askwho?”

I sipped, and the tea hit my stomach and spread its warmth through me. Gwyn rubbed my shoulders, obviously uncaring of what the queen thought about PDA.

“A Wild Hunter working for the Ghosthand,” I said, looking down into my cup. Several tea leaves swirled through the amber liquid, settling in a shape that looked unsettlingly like a skull. “Whoever he is, he had a hell of a grudge; he wanted Queen Nicnevin’s head.”

Almost too late, I remembered that I was talking to Nicnevin’s sister, and that casually dropping a tidbit like that might be construed as extreme disrespect.

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