April 1070

That partially rerailed the conversation, with the ultimate conclusion that Eva was going to be going by horse, thank you, after a week at the manor.

Rowena nodded and then promptly checked out for the rest of the night.

From there the conversation moved to more mundane, safe topics, like what Eva was doing, what Cuthbert was doing, what was up with the pets, how Cuthbert's love life was progressing, and at that point I excused myself and Rowena and left the family to their discussion-slash-interrogation.

Rowena looked so relieved as we were led off.

We headed back to Berkhamsted in the morning, with Rowena dismounting and peeling off as we reached the forest. I brought the rented horse back, and went to my house to do a final round of packing for the journey. The next morning, before I headed off to the castle to join the convoy, I turned off my heating system once again. I was fairly confident it was set for the transitional seasons – spring and autumn – and could handle itself fine in winter, but I didn't know what issues might crop up in summer and I didn't want to accidentally start a fire, especially if the French Expedition dragged on.

Moving about a hundred people – nobles, guards and soldiers, servants – and all the necessary horses wasn't some instant and easy thing, and preparations had been going on for days. Fortunately, I didn't really have to deal with that, though I felt for the people who did. In any case, late in the third week of August, a column of men and women, some mounted, some not, set out from Berkhamsted.

The journey to London took almost two whole days, and we arrived late in the evening, though we didn't go to the actual city. Instead, we stopped a little west and cut south, towards the Palace of Westminster. As we rode through the gates into the palace, Robert told me that his older brother Odo was in London after all, and he would try and arrange a meeting for me sometime around tomorrow evening. Part of me wondered why it couldn't be handled earlier, we were probably all going to be in the same place, but on the whole I was fine with a late meeting. Dinner was great, and the bed was nice, for the era. Not the best I'd ever slept in, but still fairly good. Guess there were perks to living in a royal palace, though I wasn't going to make a habit of it.

The whole edifice was made predominantly of stone, and considering the sheer size must've cost the Saxons a fortune to make. The walls were a good twenty feet high, though I couldn't tell the thickness; it looked like fifteen feet from the outside, but some of that must've been empty space for hallways and store and guardrooms. Past the walls though, it looked like the architects had traded defense for grandeur and comfort. There wasn't a proper castle, no real towers, just sprawling buildings mixed with wide open ground. Coming in from the north, there were two main buildings of note: the palace to the left, and the tall, almost cathedral-like Westminster Abbey to the right.

And there, I've fulfilled my duties to the future generations of historians and architects that will probably never read this journal. I'm going to sleep now.

Neither the Saxons nor the Normans had any proper conception of breakfast – except for Rowena, it seemed – so after scrounging some bits of bread as a starter, I went looking for Elfleda. I found her wandering the grounds, walking around the outside of the palace looking upon it with mild interest. She turned to face me when I was still a few dozen feet away, probably forewarned by the slight dip in temperature, or something minor only she could see. I wasn't sure.

"Good morning, Harry," she said when I walked up, offering an arm to me. "Care to walk the grounds with me?"

"Sure," I said. I took her arm – it was easier than fighting or turning her down – and added, "Though I was more thinking about spending the day in London."

She turned her head to look at me curiously.

"You wanted to go see the magical district," I said. "And we're here. Or close. Unless you've changed your mind?"

Elfleda smiled. "No, I haven't. But don't you have a meeting of sorts?"

"Not until 'the evening', whenever that is. So…" I glanced up in the vague direction of the sun. "Eight to ten hours or so. Something like that. Plenty of time."

Her smile widened. "Then lead on."

The day was fairly nice so we skipped on horses, and instead decided to walk over to London. We didn't really talk on the way over; Elfleda mostly hummed various tunes under her breath while looking over the Thames and the marsh on the other side, while I, who sucked at vocalizing, just listened and enjoyed. I didn't really get why Westminster Palace was so far outside London – even if there wasn't that much space inside the walls, you'd think they would at least put it up to the walls – but at least it made the walk nice.

Well, except for the overcast sky, but it was England after all; at least it wasn't raining.

As we passed the Roman-style walls and entered the city, I asked, "Do you want to go straight to Diagon Alley, or wander around first?"

"Diagon Alley?" she asked, glancing my way.

"It's the name of the district. Apparently."

"I see," she said, and hummed for a few moments. "I think I would prefer to wander first, to better appreciate whatever differences there may be."

The problem with medieval tourism was that there were only a few genuinely interesting places to visit and pieces of architecture to marvel at. London had a lot of churches even now, but neither of us were interested in visiting any of them. The Tower of London, which might've been impressive centuries from now, was currently a timber fort, as were the other two castles in the city. But, if Elfleda wanted to see the differences, then the best place to start would be Cheap Ward, the actual main market district.

We didn't end up buying anything, besides some hawked food of questionable origin and passable beer, a staple part of any inner city dive. We did, however, take at least a quick look into most shops, the clothiers, cordwainers, jewelers, woodworkers, and of course the bars.

By the time we were done with our tour of Cheap it was getting close to noon, so I figured it was time to actually visit the Alley. We came in through the opposite end of the Alley since we were closer, and headed to the tavern that was right there: the Cracked Cauldron, complete with symbolic accompaniment hanging from the overhang.

On a superficial level, the Cracked Cauldron was like McAnally's. The similarities struck me the moment I walked inside, hard enough I had a flash of déjà vu. There were thirteen thin, lightly rounded columns of dark wood, interspersed between thirteen tables, all laid out before a bar at the back. I looked around, half-expecting to see a sign with "ACCORDED NEUTRAL GROUND" on it. When I didn't spot one the feeling passed, and the differences started to set in. There were five stools at the bar rather than thirteen, the individual tables were smaller, there were no booths, no fans, the smell of smoke, fresh bread, and roasting meat was slightly off, and the entire place felt far more cramped.

And the biggest difference was the main behind the bar: mid-thirties, average height, brown-haired, and a bit pudgy.

The cramped confines were full with people, making the place feel bizarrely larger. Not as many as in McAnally's, an average day could see dozens of people in there throughout the day, but still kind of close, maybe thirty in all. Did London have a disproportionately large supernatural community, or were my imagined proportions off?

Then again, it was lunch-time. Maybe that was the outlier.

The layout of the place, meant to disperse and divert any dangerous energies that might accompany any grouchy wizard types into the tavern – prime example, me – blunted the effects of my aura, but the unexpected "gust" of cold air must've hit everyone anyway, because over the course of a few seconds everyone turned to look at me.

"Howdy," I said. I quickly looked over the faces of those present and spotted a familiar one. "Hey Geraint."

"Harry," the wandmaker replied.

Like that, things started going back to normal. I finagled my way over to the one free table and pulled out a chair for Elfleda, then went over to the bar to order. I spotted something interesting on my approach: a wooden board hanging from the back, with French writing on it and something that looked a lot like prices.

"Hey. I'm Harry," I said to the bartender, taking a seat on an open stool.

"Tom," the man replied. He wore a gray-brown tunic and trousers under a white apron, and had moved away from a discussion he'd been having from a man who looked to be on the good side of sixty.

"You have a menu?" I asked, pointing at the board.

"For the Normans," Tom replied. "Don't think you'll need it though."

"Probably not," I said. "What've you got?"

Tom rattled off a truly impressively long list of meals and drinks. I settled on properly alcoholic beer and played it safe with the meal, ordering a mix of meats and soup similar to what I prepared at home. Tom grunted and took my money, and I went back to the corner table, setting my staff against the wall.

Interestingly, I'm pretty sure he charged me less than what the menu said.

"Have you ever been in a place like this before?" I asked Elfleda.

"No," she said. She'd shuffled her chair around until her back was to the rest of the room. "It's very… quaint."

"It's not a problem is it?"

"No, just new. I'll acclimate," she said. "What is sold here? In the Alley."

"Well, food, drink, and from what I've seen personally, wands, wood carvings, animals, books, and book supplies. I also saw a clothier mixed with jeweler and a general goods store."

"Books?" Elfleda asked.

"Mostly in English or Latin, unfortunately," I said. "Though there might be some Greek ones in there? I didn't really check."

"Mmm. Clothier mixed with jeweler? Not separate?"

"Not according to their sign. 'Ceadda and Godiva's Clothes and Gems'," I recited from recent memory. "My guess is a husband and wife pair, or sibling pair."

We passed the next five minutes talking about my first time in the Alley, at which point Tom brought over a large wooden platter and set out the various plates, drinks, and cutlery – no forks.

"I should've brought forks with me," I grumbled as Tom walked off.

"And why didn't you?" Elfleda asked, taking a sip of her beer.

"Well, I did, but it's in my bags. I didn't think to bring any here," I explained.

"Ah."

"Yeah. Anyway, can I get your input on my meeting?" I asked.

"Of course," she said, rolling back her left sleeve before proceeding to cut up the meat, using her hand to hold it in place. "With the earl's brother, correct?"

"Yeah, Odo," I said.

"Mmm. To begin with, I would suggest avoiding that level of familiarity and informality. You are dealing with the second-most powerful man in the kingdom and a bishop, and you have never met him before. Unless, of course, you are not trying to convince him to help you."

"No, I am. Be polite," I said. "Anything more specific or insightful?"

"With the way you frequently ignore the basics, it bore reiterating," she chided. "Anything more specific depends on what you are asking for, specifically."

"Well, the school," I said.

"Yes, yes," she waved dismissively. "The school. What do you want from the bishop in that regard?"

I considered if it was possible to use a knife as a kind of fork, decided no, and started eating with my right hand, my left being gloved. "Well, he's the Earl of Kent. Bit weird to me he holds land, but whatever. I'd like him to agree with the vision for the school, and help spread it among his vassals. And ideally, get the Church's support; that would be a major benefit."

"That could be tricky," she said. "I think you should start with the idea and the importance of scribes. Every lord needs scribes. From there, you will need to determine if the bishop is open to being swayed by idealism, which I don't believe to be terribly likely, or whether you will need more pragmatic, transactional arguments."

"What's the ideal argument?" I asked.

"That learning more about how God ordered the world is a holy endeavor, that education engenders greater appreciation and understanding of the world, other such thrusts. I doubt that making such an argument will hurt your position, but on its own it will almost certainly not be enough."

"And the rest?" I asked.

"You cannot ask him the same as you did of the earl. You have Robert's favor, which opens certain doors, but the bishop will likely not propagate your vision unless he sees something in it for himself."

"Great," I said.

"What did you expect? Charity, from conquerors?" she asked. "The question is what you can offer, and are willing to give up."

I sighed and munched on some chicken as I thought. "Well, not money, obviously. And I can't promise anything major regarding the school, not without a group discussion. And I don't have the time to look into any problems he might have right now, unless they're in… Bayeux and we stay for a while."

"It doesn't need to be immediate," she said. "It could be conditional. If you argue the point of the scribes well enough you could well get him interested, just not fully on your side."

"Yeah, but I'd prefer to just get it done in one go. Trouble is I can't offer him anything significant."

"A favor?" she asked.

"Horrible, bad idea, unless I can attach enough conditions to it that it can't come back to bite me," I said.

"Owls?"

"What about them?" I asked.

"Could you offer them, or do they only work for those with magic."

I chewed my lip briefly. "That is a very good question. That I should get an answer to." I hummed thoughtfully. "That could work, maybe. I'd have to check that I wouldn't be majorly pissing off the Council by doing that, but that could work. And I do sort of have the money for that." Then I looked down at my duster. "Maybe some long-term enchantments too. I'd have to think about that." I nodded at Elfleda. "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

"Though, there is something else I wanted to ask, related to the meeting," I said.

"Yes?"

"My last talk with Robert went... decently well, but the last few conversations with powerful people in general has really brought into the focus the fact that I get annoyed easily–"

"Could you mayhaps stop meandering around the point?" she asked.

"I've made a focus for a mixed illusion-communication spell that makes someone look like me," I said. "And that lets me hear through the focus and talk back silently to the person holding it."

Elfleda frowned and cocked her head slightly. "Are you asking me to masquerade as you in the meeting? To argue in your place?"

"Basically," I said.

Elfleda blinked and sat back. She was silent for a few moments, and then asked, "What are the limitations of this... glamour?"

"Should be fairly complete," I said. "It's a paired set of dolls. You keep one on you, I hold onto the other, and so long as I maintain the spell you look and feel exactly like me, at least outwardly. It doesn't actually change your physical shape though, it just makes you look taller, so you'd need to avoid physical interaction with other people."

"I would sound like you?" she asked.

I nodded. "But you'd still have your ability to see emotions, and while you couldn't directly talk back to me, I would be able to hear everything you and Odo say, and give you commentary or leads as necessary."

"Why didn't you ask this of me earlier?"

"Because before that last day, I hadn't finished it. Technically, it's still untested, though it won't take long to see if it works or if we have to stick with plan a, being me talking with Odo. And until it was finished, there wasn't really a point in asking you," I explained.

She nodded. "I see. Well, I suppose I could disguise myself as you and go in your place, but for a price."

"I figured," I said. "Name it."

"I want you to get me something from this Alley, something special," she said.

I tapped the back side of my knife against the plate a few times. "I can agree to that, but I'm not sure what you'd consider special from here, especially since I haven't been in much of the Alley. How about we see if you like anything here and go from there?"

"That sounds eminently reasonable," she agreed.

The tavern steadily emptied as we ate, people leaving once they'd eaten their lunch. By the time we finished, there were only ten other people in the tavern including the proprietor, and after returning the various plates, cups, and knifes, we made our way back out into the Alley. From there, after a quick discussion, Elfleda managed to pull me into the Clothes and Gems.

It wasn't like a department store, which was the only example I had to compare this kind of place to. Or at least not exactly. There weren't any mannequins or racks or anything like that, and actual clothes seemed to be a bit rare, with spools of fabric laying around instead. But there were shoes, gloves, cloaks, hats, along with various forms of jewelry.

There was only one other person in the store, a black-haired woman of average height who looked to be in her early forties. She was knitting when we walked in, and kept doing so for a few seconds before looking up and blinking.

"Hello," she said, putting aside her knitting. "How are you today?"

"Good," Elfleda said. "Very good." She looked around the store slowly before falling back on the woman – Godiva, presumably. "Tell me, what kind of clothes do you sell? There don't seem to be many."

"Ah, that's because this is the stock we sell to the more mystically inclined," Godiva said. "Which means most of it is sturdy work attire. If you're looking for dresses though we certainly have some."

"I would like to see them then, in a little while," Elfleda said.

"Of course. Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Not particularly," Elfleda said, beginning to walk around the various clusters of items.

"And you?" Godiva asked, looking my way.

"I'm with her," I said, nodding at Elfleda.

Godiva nodded and looked back at Elfleda, who had moved right past the shoes, spent a little while looking over the gloves, and had now come to the hats. She picked up a big dark gray hat, wide-brimmed and curling slightly near the ends a little like a sombrero, and then walked back to me with it. "Well?" she asked, trying to put it on me.

I sighed and suffered the hat for two seconds before gently taking it off. "I don't do hats," I said.

Elfleda gave me a disappointed look, then sighed after I weathered it. She put the hat back where she found it, then moved to the cloaks. "What is special about these?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Godiva.

"They're tough to tear and stains don't stick to them long. Small spills just go right off, larger ones are rather easily scrubbed off. You would need to go play in mud like a pig to get anything to stay," Godiva said. "Enchantments last about two years. We renew them for a small fee if you can't manage it yourself."

Elfleda looked the other way at me, and I shrugged. "Not sure about the anti-stain, never tried anything like that, but the rest I can manage."

"Do you work with clothes?" Godiva asked me.

"Sort of," I replied. "I'm a wizard. I enchant a lot of my own stuff." I picked at the collar of my duster. "For one, this is stronger than a coat of mail."

"Impressive," Godiva said with some jealousy.

Elfleda went through the cloaks until she found one she liked, then drew it out to its full size. After making sure it looked right, she walked over to me, took off her current cloak, passed it to me, and tried on the new one. It fit, and she nodded, then nudged me.

I, in turn, moved up to Godiva. "How much?" I asked.

She named a price that was on the expensive side but also fairly reasonable for what was on offer, and I dug the payment out of my coin pouch, taking care not to drop her old cloak.

Then Elfleda moved towards the jewelry, and my pockets started feeling miraculously lighter.

"Harry, come have a look at this," she said.

I moved closer to look, and she held up a silver necklace. It had an extra bit at the bottom, a tearstone-shaped sapphire gem set upside down into a silver, rhomboid frame with etchings all around. It looked very, very expensive.

"It looks nice," I said.

Elfleda gave me an appraising look. "And is that all?"

"It would look good on you…?"

She rolled her eyes. "It looks rather special, don't you think?" she asked.

I clicked my tongue and sighed. "Well…"

It did. It looked like the best piece in the store. It also looked really expensive.

"May I see?" Godiva asked, getting up from her seat and walking over. Elfleda turned to show her, and she said, "Ah. That one."

"Is it magic, or just well made?" Elfleda asked.

"It's a ward-charm," Godiva said. "Protects against bad luck, curses, dangerous energy, the like."

I tried not to grimace. I mean, I believed her, it probably was, may have even been a good one, but unless she or her husband were wizards I could probably make a better enchantment. And in the meantime, I'd have to end up paying for it.

Elfleda caught my twitch. "What?" she asked.

I sighed and held out my hand. "May I, for a second?"

Elfleda passed me the necklace, and I turned around until I was staring at the ground, the necklace the only magical thing in my field of vision. I opened my Sight, spent a few seconds inspecting the necklace and its wards, and then closed my Sight and passed it back.

"It's good, I like how the cutting on the gem structures and contains the wards," I said.

"But?" Elfleda asked.

"But while the work on this is exquisite, there's only so much you can do with a typical practitioner's level of power. No offense to you or your husband ma'am," I said, glancing at Godiva. "Though the design does seem to be durable, unlike most ward-items. Those tend to just break after they're hit, this one looks like it could be reused."

"My husband strives to do his best," Godiva said, her tone a little too calm and straight.

"Well, he is good," I said. "How much?"

She named a figure so large I could've bought a few villages with it. Most of the figure probably reflected the actual cost; that kind of necklace couldn't have come cheap and selling it at a discount would've seemed wrong. Part of it was probably gouging me. Either way, I didn't have the money.

But Elfleda clearly wanted it, so...

"One second," I said. I went to open the door and popped my head outside, trying to judge the time. Subtracting walking time, around five hours until we had to leave. Maybe six if I pushed it. Probably not enough time, but I could try.

"Alright," I said on the way back. I set my staff against the wall, put Elfleda's now-old cloak down, then carefully took off my duster. "How about a trade?"

Godiva eyed my duster critically.

"No, not the duster, I'm keeping that," I said. "It's what I've done to it, besides the toughness. I don't feel the temperature in this, hot or cold. Climate control. I can walk through a blizzard in this or stay out in the sun for a day and not sweat."

Godiva looked a lot more interested after my explanation. "And you are proposing to teach me this?"

"Yeah. So?"

Godiva looked at the necklace Elfleda was holding, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. The price point she'd quoted was out of reach of everyone I'd seen in the alley, more the type of expenditure rich nobles would indulge in. Her husband had probably made it just to push his limits, and ended up with an item his customers couldn't afford. Getting a new line of clothes was probably worth it – assuming I could teach her, of course.

"How long would this take?" she asked.

"That, I don't know. It depends on you," I said. "The main problem is I've only got five hours, and I'm not sure if that's enough time."

Godiva nodded idly. "How long would it take you to enchant a piece of clothing in such a way?"

"Depends on the size, but probably no more than half an hour," I said. "A lot less if I'm doing it to something small, like a glove."

"And are you leaving London soon?"

"Either tomorrow or the day after."

Godiva looked torn. "How about this," she said after a minute. "If you could enchant a few articles for me, I will try and recreate them. And if, by the time you come back, I've made sure the enchantments work as you describe and I can manage these enchantments, then you can have the necklace."

"What do you mean by manage?" I asked.

"Whether it's possible for me, even if it requires weeks of practice and work," she said.

I looked from Godiva to Elfleda, then my duster. Then I put it back on and said, "Alright. What would you like me to enchant?"

The articles turned out to be two gloves and a tunic. Fifteen minutes into the process, Elfleda pulled aside Godiva, and they disappeared through a door in the back, probably going to check out the actual clothes. They spent a worryingly long amount of time back there, and I got more than a little suspicious when Elfleda walked out with a small smirk and nothing in hand.

Fifty minutes after I started I handed the enchanted gloves and tunic back to Godiva, and after making our goodbyes we left the store.

"So, small problem as I see it," I said once we were outside. "The meeting's tonight, and I won't be getting that until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

"Yes, that is unfortunate – for you," Elfleda agreed. "I am still willing to masquerade as you, contingent on receipt of the necklace, but if that turns out to be impossible, that would leave you in my debt."

"I'm not sure I like your tone," I said half-seriously. "What would that mean for me?"

"Oh, simply that you would have to find... alternate means of paying that debt," she said, eyes sparkling.

I eyed her a little warily and said, "No sex."

She just laughed and nodded.

From there we went to the bookstore, where Elfleda browsed for ten minutes before deciding she wasn't going to buy anything. And after that, I popped into the Menagerie to ask about the owls. The answer wasn't quite what I'd hoped but was what I expected: you needed some amount of magic in order to properly call a messenger owl, just like you needed magic to call just about anything supernatural. That didn't actually rule out regular people, but it did mean there was an initial hurdle in teaching them enough magic so that they got the power to call an owl in the first place. Something to consider long-term then, rather than some up-front gift.

I offered to get Elfleda a cat or dog if she wanted, but she shook her head. After we left she decided she'd seen enough, so even though we still had plenty of time we started to make our way back to Westminster.

There were two discussions we had along the way, a short one as we were leaving the Alley, and a longer one while we were walking through the countryside between London and Westminster.

Talk the first: "You said your coat is stronger than a coat of mail," Elfleda said.

"Duster," I corrected. "And yeah, it is."

"Duster, then. Was it difficult to enchant?" she asked.

"Well, I wouldn't say difficult at this point, I've been improving and renewing this kind of protective enchantment for over a decade now. It's just a little time consuming at this point. Why, are you asking if I could do the same for you?"

"It would seem prudent," Elfleda said. "Considering your concerns about my safety."

"Yeah, and Ill probably have plenty of time on the way to Mortain to do the work. It's just... uh..."

"What?"

"I'd... need some of your clothes for that," I said awkwardly.

Elfleda glanced my way, eyebrow arched in amusement. "Yes, I realized," she said teasingly. She then hummed thoughtfully. "A cloak and a dress, then? To cover everything?"

"Maybe gloves too," I said, then glanced down at my own glove. "Though, I've never actually put a protective enchantment on a glove before. I'll have to see if I can actually manage it."

"Why have you never tried?"

"I didn't wear gloves originally, I preferred the manual dexterity and sense of touch. Then later working the enchantment into something that small was impractical, and I had other things to focus on, so I just... put it aside," I said. "Them and boots, really."

And talk the second: "I have been considering your concerns."

"Which ones?" I asked.

"Regarding the prospects of us staying together," she said. "Your concerns about my safety."

"Okay. And?"

"If your school is established and succeeds, you would spend much of your time there, yes? And it would be well warded?" she asked.

"As well as the four of us and anyone else that comes on can manage, yeah," I said. "And if we get our ideal location... well, not quite, connecting it to the school would be difficult..."

"Ideal location?" she asked.

"There's a place up in Scotland, under Edinburgh," I said. "The Hidden Halls. Supposedly it was the domain of a sidhe lord until Merlin won it from him in a bet. It sits on a large nexus of ley lines, so the wards on it could hold off anything short of a god. Trouble is that it's in Edinburgh, and our new idea requires a location in England proper, so squaring that circle is going to be a bit tricky."

"Mmm. So it is an excellent place to, how would you put it... ride out any unpleasantness," she said.

"Assuming we get it and can make things work, yes," I said. "But it's an underground complex and I doubt you want to spend the rest of your life under a hundred feet of rock, if not more."

"I do not, that is true," she agreed. "And in any case, I was considering a different solution."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"How would you feel about me were I to be a sidhe?" she asked.

I looked at her with a frown. "That is... not an easy question to answer," I said.

"Why not?"

"Because you wouldn't be human at that point," I said. "You wouldn't be... you, not exactly, not anymore. I mean, you said it yourself: Winter is cold, and cruel, and selfish. That's a hard thing to struggle against. And even ignoring the question of how it would change you, it wouldn't make you safer. In fact, it would just make it easier to get at you. Anyone that knew I was involved with you could summon and threaten you then. You'd get drawn in and involved with the politics of the Winter Court. You'd need power to survive all that, basically, and that pursuit will probably change you." I sighed. "It'd be easier if you could somehow go Summer or Wyldfae. Then I'd still have issues with the idea, but fewer."

"Would it be an immediate concern? Could you not then teach me how to wield magic and defend myself?" she asked.

"I mean, maybe," I said. "Some, certainly. But from what I understand faerie magic is a lot more instinctive. I'm not sure whether I could teach a sidhe anything. Even then, skill can only carry you so far. And that's all ignoring Mab."

"What about her?" she asked.

"Her new approach. The more I've thought about it, the less it makes sense. She wants me to come to her, but so far she hasn't done anything except bar me from the Ways. Which is inconvenient, sure, but if that's the price I have to pay to never deal with her again then I'll take it. But she seemed... too interested in me when she appeared, so I doubt she's just given up on me. There's something I'm missing, some angle I can't see, and so I'm hesitant to put you further into her power." I trailed off and looked down at Elfleda.

She looked curiously back at me. "What?"

"I'm wondering if you're involved somehow," I said.

She furrowed her brow. "How so?"

"Well, unless she just isn't paying attention to me anymore, then she has to know about you. About our relationship. I'm wondering if she's waiting for something to happen to you, something that might drive me to her."

"Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know. That's what worries me," I said. "Or maybe the paranoia's the angle. Get me so twisted up about what she might do that I call her up just to get it over with. I just don't know."

"Have you ever asked her?"

"Oh yeah, because I'd definitely get a straight answer from the Winter Queen," I said. "'Hey Mab, how do you plan to screw me over?'" I shook my head. "She'd just point me in one direction and blindside me from another." I sighed. "Now can we talk about something else? Something less terrifying and depressing?"

"Very well," Elfleda said. She hummed for a few moments and then said, "It occurs to me that we've known each other for a while now, but I don't know very much about you. Your history, your life before you arrived at Berkhamsted, your family."

"It's personal," I said.

"You know more about my family than I do about yours," she pointed out.

"Fair point." I took a deep breath. "Let's see. My mother, Margaret, died when I was born, or shortly after, so I never knew her. But I'm told she was a powerful witch. My father, Malcolm, died when I was six. He was... a traveling performer, I'd say. I... I barely remember him now."

"My condolences," she said.

"Thanks."

"Mmm. That wasn't as pleasant as I was hoping, and I imagine life as an orphan was even less so."

"It definitely wasn't fun."

"Then... when were you born?"

"On Samhain," I said. I didn't add a year; anything I said would've been a lie, and I didn't want to lie to her.

"Truly?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Why?"

"It is the same for me," she said. "You should have told me last year. I would have done something."

"We'd only known each other for a few months by that point. It would've been awkward," I said.

Elfleda waved dismissively. "La. Details." She dropped her hand. "But what's done is done. It's something to look forward to this year, instead."

"Assuming we're still alive by then," I said.

"Again, details. Besides, I have confidence you'll prevail."