"Who would be that arrogant?" Rhys asked.

Doyle laughed, a surprised bray of sound that startled us all. "Who would be arrogant enough? Rhys, you are a noble of the sidhe courts. The better question would be who would not be arrogant enough?"

"Say what you like, Doyle," Nicca said, "most of the nobles fear the Queen, fear her greatly, fear her much more than they fear Cel. You have been her champion for eons. You don't know what's it like to be at her mercy."

"I do," I said. They all turned to me. "I agree with Nicca. I don't know anyone but Cel who would risk his mother's anger."

"We are immortal, Princess. We have the luxury of biding our time. Who knows what tricksy serpent has been waiting centuries until the Queen was weak. If she is forced to kill her only son, she will be weak."

"I'm not immortal, Doyle, so I can't speak for that kind of patience or cunning. All we know for certain is that something tried the wards tonight, and it will bear a burn on its hand, or paw, or whatever, a mark. It can be matched just like fingerprints."

"I've seen wards set up to harm something that tries to break them, or even mark the intruder with a scar or burn, but I've never seen anyone take imprints before," Rhys said.

"It was clever," Doyle said. Which from him was a great compliment.

"Thank you." I frowned at him. "If you've never seen anyone do something like this with a ward, how did you know what you were seeing through the drapes?"

"Rhys said that he had never seen anything like it. I did not say that."

"Where else did you see it?"

"I am an assassin, a hunter, Princess. Tracks are a very good thing to have."

"The print on its hand will match this, but it won't leave tracks as it travels."

Doyle gave a small shrug. "A pity, it would have been useful."

"You can make a creature of faerie leave magical tracks?" I asked.

"Yes."

"But they would see them with their own magic and ruin the spell." He shrugged. "I've never found the world big enough to hide quarry that I tracked."

"You're always so … perfect," I said.

He glanced past me at the window. "No, my princess, I fear I am not perfect, and our enemies, whoever they may be, know that now."

The breeze had become a wind, billowing out the white drapes. I could see the small-clawed print frozen in the glittering magic. I was half a continent away from the nearest faerie stronghold. I'd thought L.A. was far enough away to keep us safe, but I guess if someone really wants you dead, they'll catch a plane or something with wings. After years of exile I finally had a little slice of home with me. Home never really changed. It had always been lovely, erotic, and very, very dangerous.