by ‘It’s done,’ I said a little later. ‘I think. So I suppose you can go home again.’
Mum rolled her eyes in wordless contempt.
‘Not that it wasn’t amazing of you to come,’ I hastened to add. ‘Super appreciated.’
‘Farringale has been dead for centuries,’ she informed me. ‘And I don’t mean metaphorically dead. I mean actually dead. If you think it’s going to be easy to drag it into the modern world then you have bats for brains. They are going to need us.’
We were still in the library, though we’d ascended out of the cellar. We found a crowd gathered there, apparently not waiting for us: our appearance came as a surprise.
A welcome one, to Indira and Rob and Zareen. I was hugged again, quite a lot—even by Indira. ‘I found Mab,’ she said to Jay, who had not left my side. ‘She was—busy.’
‘Busy.’ Jay’s brows went up, though he spoke distractedly. I believe he was preoccupied with making sure I didn’t fall over, which was no easy task. My legs felt about as sturdy as lightly blanched asparagus.
‘There’s, um. A new tree.’ She waved a hand vaguely. ‘Where the griffins were.’
‘A new tree? Freshly minted?’ said Jay. ‘Out of what?’
‘Mab’s turned into a tree,’ I surmised, less surprised by this than I might have been a week ago. I’d rather liked being a tree, myself.
But Indira shook her head. ‘Turned someone else into a tree. Take a guess.’ She was grinning, standing there with a smile of pure mischief on her youthful face and stone dust all over her hair: a vision less like cool, reserved Indira I had never seen.
‘It’s Fenella,’ said Zareen, before I could make any sense out of my sluggish thoughts. ‘Rob took the regulator off her, which didn’t make her happy. Then she lost the griffins, too. She came back with murder on her mind, but Mab got to her. Just said “no”, like that, and “I’m afraid I have run out of patience,” and turned her into a tree. She’s a willow. Quite pretty, actually.’
‘A weeping willow,’ Jay mused. ‘Appropriate.’
‘Miranda came through, then?’ I asked. ‘With the griffins, I mean.’
‘Probably,’ said Zareen. ‘Somebody did, anyway. Rob and Melissa and that lot intercepted them. They’re coming back in now.’
‘I also, um,’ said Jay, awkwardly. ‘Stuck a tracker on Miranda’s back when she went past me. Seems she didn’t notice.’
I beamed blissfully at the wonderful man that he was. ‘You’re a wonderful man,’ I informed him, and yawned.
‘Someone get her Home,’ Zareen suggested. ‘You need a week of sleep at least, Ves. You look bloody awful.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, still beaming.
‘We’re okay to go, soon,’ Indira offered. ‘Just waiting to make sure the griffins are safe.’
‘Well,’ Jay interposed. ‘That’s what we’re doing. Your Mum’s reorganising half the world, by the sounds of it.’
I could hear her, distantly, barking orders in the crisp tone of a woman who expects to be obeyed, instantly and without question. And she was. Her Yllanfalen contingent were marching out of the library again in twos and threes, dispatched on various missions of rehabilitation.
Their Majesties would probably be pleased, on the whole. There was no one like Mum for getting things done. This time next week, she’d have it spick and span and well on the way to habitable.
‘Mum,’ I said, and repeated it a bit louder when she clearly didn’t hear me.
She appeared at my side. ‘Ves.’
I blinked at her, momentarily stupefied. ‘You called me Ves.’
By way of answer I received a blank stare. ‘And?’
‘You’ve never done that before.’
‘Did you want to say something? Because I have a lot to do—’
‘Right. Um. Surely it’s a bit late to be—you know?’ I made a hand-wavey gesture, meant to encompass the entirety of everything she and her entourage were doing.
‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘It’s a bit late. It’s four hundred years late, to be precise, and if we want to get this kingdom rolling again there’s no time to lose.’
‘Right,’ I said meekly. ‘Carry on.’
I mentally resigned the whole problem of my mother to Mandridore. They’d asked for aid, and they had got it.
Mum stalked off, evidently forgetting my entire existence again between one purposeful stride and the next.
Jay’s hand stole into mine, a warm, strong clasp that conveyed far more than words. Faith and love. Comfort. Stability. I carried his hand to my lips and kissed it. ‘You know,’ I said mistily, ‘I really would like to go Home.’
