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My name’s Toby Daye. I’m half-fae, half-human, and depressingly excited by the idea of being able to pay for name-brand cereal.
“That’s me,” I agreed. “Toby Daye, assassin of fun.” “You should put that on your business cards,” said Danny,
“You okay?” I laughed bitterly. “I’m peachy.” “There’s the manic-depressive sweetheart we all know and love.
There’s an art to petting a rose goblin without injuring yourself. They’re basically animate, vaguely cat-shaped rosebushes, and you have to make sure not to move against the grain of the thorns.
Apparently, rumpled women with gauze-wrapped hands wearing leather jackets in May showed up at their school all the time.
“Can I take some of that?” “Nope. Wouldn’t be right to let a lady carry her own deadly toxins.”
This was the Amandine I knew before the Summerlands: perfectly coiffed white-gold hair, makeup done just so, jewelry chosen with a care that implied she might be graded later.
“I’m not your Fetch anymore. I can’t feel you.”
I wasn’t sure whether I was overreacting, underreacting, or doing both at once.
The woman in the mirror was pale with exhaustion, and her eyes were a gray almost pale enough to be white. Her stick-straight hair was ashy brown shot through with streaks of gold. Even her features were finer than I expected.
“She said beware the Lady of the Lake, because she’s never forgiven you your story, but to be more afraid by far of Morgane,”
“Did you think I could walk away and let you die?” I didn’t answer. He shook me, demanding, “Did you?”
We’re taught to swear by the sacred woods, by Titania’s rose, and Maeve’s tree, and by the root and the branch—Oberon and his children. Oberon is the root of Faerie.
“I wouldn’t take aid from you if you offered it. Never from you, daughter of Amandine, last and latest child of the great betrayal. You’ll see the end of us all, and you won’t be content until you know the gates are locked and sealed; your own death will refuse you. You’ll destroy your beginnings and forsake your heart’s desire, and there will be nothing for you but what’s already been turned aside . . .”
