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scream.
                  “He’s mortal, and no business of yours.”
                  The face managed to look condescending. “A knight follows orders, she does not ask. Your station creates your ignorance, and your ignorance betrays you.”
                  Judging by the way she curled her fists, Sid was ready to find out what happened if you punched a thing of the Autumn Court right in its smug face.
                  Chris stepped forward to stand next to her, and hopefully intercept any ill-advised fistfighting before it could start. “What’ve you got to say to me?”
                  “Stay away from the Fairy Courts, child.”
                  And with that, it turned and walked away. It left black footprints behind it, smoldering long after it was out of sight.
                  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Sid said.
    ---
                  “So, uh. I feel special,” said Chris, some time later.
                  Special, and on some level dearly wishing that he was still in jail. Minimum security hadn’t been that bad. They’d had a library, he’d rediscovered joy in reading. There’d been no end of interesting stories from his fellow inmates, and in a place where no one was really a hardened killer most people just wanted a guy to sit still and listen. Chris was good at being that guy. He was good at listening, good at helping.
                  He’d never thought of himself as good at traipsing through the woods behind a woman equal parts scary and attractive, trying to undo the riddles of ancient creatures. He hadn’t ever been the kid who wanted to grow up to be Harry Potter.
                  “Don’t let it go to your head,” Sid grumbled.
                  She was visibly perturbed, holding her shoulders too tightly. From the way her fingers twitched, Chris could only guess she wanted something a bit deadlier than knives. Maybe a bazooka.
                  It was some small comfort to know this bothered her just as much as it did him.
                  Chris reached forward and laid a careful hand on her tense shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”
                  He tried to sound something less than terrified, and was pretty proud of how well he managed it.
                  Sid turned to stare at him, her mouth drawn tight. She didn’t shake off his grip, so he started rubbing his thumb in small, anti-homicidal circles.
                  “It is not okay.” Her voice was taut as a half-pulled trigger. “There is nothing about the sum of all these parts that adds up to all right. The Higher Courts don’t just take an interest in some random mortal – ”
                  She broke off to stare at him. He continued his circles.
                  “What?”
                  “Who was your father?” she demanded. “Your mother?”
                  “My father was a factory worker and my mother is a waitress.” There had been a lot of cheese sandwiches in his childhood. “Nothing like what you’re thinking, I promise.”
                  But her eyes continued to be too intense and far too green. She reached up and grabbed his hand, yanking him forward in a brisk march.
                  “Where are we going now?” He hoped she knew.
                  “The Court Gate isn’t too far from here. That will tell me what I need to know.”
                  Chris hoped she didn’t mean that in any sort of direct conversational way, because he’d had his fill of odd chats. Still, by now he knew better than to stand in the way of Sid’s kind of determination. He let himself be pulled along. His hand was cool where she grasped it.
                  This time all she had to do was press a hand to her chest.