Book 9 - Page 96 (2/2)

“That was quick,” said Goreu. “We didn’t expect you for another day at least.”

“How quick?” I asked.

“Twelve, maybe thirteen hours,” said Goreu.

“Huh,” I said. “We were there a day and a night and most of another day.” I’d gained back about twelve hours of the month that the Elphame court had stolen from me.

Adam’s clothes were folded and awaited him on a chair near the fireplace, which held a merry little fire. He walked over to the chair. I don’t think that anyone except me knew how sore and tired he was.

“What are you carrying?” Beauclaire asked me.

I’d used one of the dead fae’s s.h.i.+rts to collect what I could find of the walking stick. I laid it on the desk in front of Beauclaire and opened the shroud to reveal shards and splinters of gray wood, some silver bits, and the spearpoint, still stained with the Widow Queen’s blood.

Beauclaire touched the silver spearhead lightly and raised an eyebrow.

“The Widow Queen thought that she’d like an artifact all to herself,” I said.

Goreu growled. “I told you she acquiesced too easily. That she took the defeat of her people at the werewolves’ hands with too much grace.”

“You took care of her?” Beauclaire asked me, ignoring Goreu. He didn’t raise his eyebrows in disbelief, but it lurked in his tone.

“Aiden, Adam, and I,” I said. “But we had help. She couldn’t do great magic without Underhill’s consent, which she didn’t get. The walking stick . . . helped me, too. In the end, that’s what killed her. Without Baba Yaga’s help, Adam would have died.”

“Baba Yaga,” said Beauclaire with a frown. “What was . . .” He quit talking, but his frown didn’t go away. “Coyote’s daughter,” he said quietly. “He and Baba Yaga are akin, tricksters and unreliable champions of the underdog. I can see why she might be inclined to help you.”

He was talking about her like she wasn’t in the room.

“She didn’t have much use for the Widow Queen,” said Goreu.

I glanced discreetly around, but she wasn’t in the room. I started to say something, I don’t know what, when Adam drew on the pack bonds to do another quicker-than-usual change. The power flowed to him, I felt the edge of it. But more than power, I felt the joyous welcome that sang through the pack as they celebrated Adam’s return.

When I paid attention to the others again, Beauclaire was once more examining the remains of his father’s work. Aiden was fumbling in his pocket, and Goreu was watching me.