CHAPTER SEVEN

Stephen’s dad closed his eyes and shook his head. As if he couldn’t even bear to see Stephen. “I know I dumped a lot on you yesterday. But buddy, we’re both in big trouble now. It’s time to come clean.”

Stephen didn’t understand what was happening. His own father was accusing him of stealing their family book and throwing it away. Trevor must have been truly upset by the recipe’s misfiring.

“Trevor’s lying,” he said. “He’s making it up. That didn’t happen.”

Sofia was watching Stephen. “Trevor’s not a liar.”

“I’m sorry, Stephen.” Trevor shuffled his feet, examining them.

“That’s enough,” Carmen said. “This is bad enough without directly insulting the son of a high lady of the Octagon. We don’t need a diplomatic incident.”

“Stickier yet, given that Stephen’s missing mother is also technically a member of the Octagon,” Ivan said thoughtfully, “and that the fae tried to claim Stephen last night.”

“They did?” Trevor asked.

“Ivan, this is a matter for the adults to handle,” Carmen said.

“I’m a La Doyt,” Ivan said. “And with my parents away, you will need my help to resolve this crime.”

“No one used the word crime,” Carmen said. “This is a prank gone wrong, at worst.”

“I’ll be perfectly honest,” Stephen’s dad said. “Right now my first priority is finding the book. Stephen, there’ll be no punishment if you tell me which gate we should look in.”

Stephen felt as if his heart might beat right out of his chest. “Dad, I’m telling you: I didn’t take it, and I didn’t throw it anywhere. Trevor’s making it up.”

His dad sighed, shaking his head.

“What’s this?” An amused voice he recognized interrupted. Baroness Thyme and her knight martial friend had clearly just flounced in through the front doors. She was removing a pair of long black gloves that reached to her elbows. “Trouble already?”

Stephen’s ears went hot again.

His dad took a step closer to him. “It’s none of your concern, Baroness.”

She tilted her head and ignored his father. “You look like you’re not having a very good time, Stephen Lawson.”

She could say that again. But he wasn’t about to put into words anything that would align him with her and the smirking knight behind her.

She paused. “It seems too soon to issue you another invitation. What’s the matter? May we offer our assistance?”

“You may not,” his dad gritted out.

Carmen put a hand on his shoulder. “That is a very kind offer, Baroness Thyme, but I think we have it covered.”

“If you’re certain. We’d best go see how Lady Sarabel has been entertaining herself this morning,” the baroness said. She and the knight began to walk toward the elevator. Over her shoulder she told Stephen, “We are here whenever you need us.”

Never.Stephen fought a shiver.

“Good riddance,” Sofia muttered.

Ivan fished in his pocket and removed a small clear spray bottle, which he furiously shook. The contents were a cloudy white.

“Ivan,” Carmen said, “this is hardly—”

Without ceremony Ivan doused Trevor with the mist from the bottle.

Stephen’s mouth dropped open as Trevor’s reddish brown hair began to glow a bright and unmistakable green. It meant that when Ivan turned the bottle to spritz Stephen, Stephen got a mouthful of the bitter-tasting stuff. Sofia stepped back before the mist could hit her.

“Gross!” Stephen said, sputtering. “What is that stuff? It tastes terrible!”

“Repincatatio,” Ivan said. “Developed by my ancestors over four hundred years ago. It should make anything that’s come into contact with fae magic glow green for a few minutes.”

“What’s in it?” Stephen said, his tongue sticky with the foul taste.

“Best not to know,” said Ivan. “You and Trevor are both glowing green.”

Stephen peered down at his arms and his body and saw it was true. He glowed as brightly as Trevor.

“Which means what exactly?” Stephen’s dad asked, worried.

“It means,” Ivan said, “that Trevor came into contact with fae magic recently. Even culinary magic would count, if performed by a fae. We can surmise he is telling the truth about what he witnessed. And since Stephen is a fae, it’s not surprising he is glowing as well.”

“Half fae,” Stephen said, hating the words. He couldn’t understand why Trevor would tell such a story, and now Ivan was backing him up. Of course Ivan would, the echo of his comment about “untrustworthy” half fae rang through Stephen’s head.

Carmen said weakly, “Using magic to cause injury to one under the protection of the Guest Right is a serious offense, Stephen. Nothing like that has happened in decades.”

His dad was listening intently. Being falsely accused stung, but Stephen also felt . . . guilty. He shouldn’t have touched the book after his dad said not to.

“I know I shouldn’t have used the book. That was wrong. But I wasn’t trying to hurt Trevor,” Stephen said. “I was trying to improve his batting speed. I promise you that I didn’t take it. I was looking for you, to help Trevor. Dad, have I ever lied to you about anything important?”

Sofia put in, “Fae can’t lie.”

The baroness must have been eavesdropping. The elevator doors bing ed, but she took a few steps in their direction. The knight held the door. “The boy is half fae, half human,” she said, regret in her deep voice. “And we all know that humans lie as easily as they breathe.”

With that, she turned and strode into the elevator. The doors closed immediately.

Trevor shifted from big foot to big foot. “I wish it weren’t true, but I saw him. I saw Stephen run from the kitchen with the book. I was able to follow him up here after the, er, hot sauce”—Trevor grimaced—“wore off.”

Ivan was frowning. “You are telling the truth. You’re too upset to be making this up. Not to mention, bigfoots are known for their truthfulness.”

“Bigfeet,” Sofia said.

“Stay out of this,” Carmen said to both Ivan and Sofia. “Sir Michael and I will take it from here. Michael, I know someone who might be able to help us figure out where it is.” Her eyes skated over Stephen, and the implication was clear: since your son won’t confess. “Everyone, let’s keep this under wraps for now. Understood?”

Ivan said nothing. But Sofia said, “Sure, Mom. We’ll do that.”

“Dad—” Stephen started to speak.

“You go upstairs. When you’re ready to tell the truth, then you can be ungrounded.” Stephen’s dad gave the order in a clipped fashion. “I’ve got to go figure out how to run my first dinner service without the Librum.”

Stephen didn’t want to abandon his dad.

“I hope Carmen’s solution will work,” his dad said, talking to himself mostly. “We’ll get the book back, and everything will be fine.”

Stephen didn’t miss the undercurrent of fear in his dad’s voice. That book was important to him, a badge of office he’d called it, and he’d made a big point of telling Stephen it was important to this entire world. And his dad had to impress everyone with Cindermass’s birthday party. Stephen headed toward the stairwell, even though he didn’t want to leave his dad.

The glow on his skin was starting to fade, and so he looked back to see if Trevor’s was, too.

Without a clue that Stephen was watching, his dad removed his Cubs cap. The slight ring it always left in his hair was visible as his shoulders slumped. Sofia’s mom moved closer to his dad and said something. His dad still didn’t look up.

The Librum de Coquina was the Lawson family’s legacy. It had been Chef Nana’s, and from all appearances, its going missing was majorly bad news. And they think I took it.

His dad had said he was still himself, still just Stephen. But right now it felt as if he was the only one who believed that.