Blue Lily, Lily Blue

Ronan repeated the noise of glorious disdain.

“Thanks for the super helpful alternative suggestions, Ronan Lynch. Your contribution at the end of the world will be tallied accordingly,” Blue said. She turned her attention back to Gansey, persisting, “So, then, what? It has to be important, or Cabeswater wouldn’t have shown it to us.”

That, Gansey thought, assumes Cabeswater’s priorities are the same as ours. Out loud, he said, “We find another way in. One that brings us in on the other side of that hole. Since it’s not a normal cave — it’s all tied in with the ley line — Malory can help us.”

He couldn’t believe Malory was really here. He’d spent nearly a year with the professor, the longest he had stayed anywhere, and it had started to feel like there would never be a time when he wasn’t searching. Now he was looking in a narrowing grave, and somewhere in that vast darkness was Glendower and the end.

Gansey felt off-kilter; time played in jittery fast-forward.

In the rearview mirror, he caught Blue’s eyes by accident. Strangely enough, he saw his own thoughts reflected in her face: excitement and consternation. Casually, out of view of Ronan, making sure Adam was still sleeping, Gansey dangled his hand between the driver’s seat and the door. Palm up, fingers stretched back to Blue.

This was not allowed.

He knew it was not allowed, by rules he himself had set. He would not permit himself to play favorites between Adam and Ronan; he and Blue couldn’t play favorites in this way, either. She would not see the gesture, anyway. She would ignore it if she did. His heart hummed.

Blue touched his fingertips.

Just this —

He pinched her fingers lightly, just for a moment, and then he withdrew his hand and put it back on the wheel. His chest felt warm.

This was not allowed.

Ronan had not seen; Adam was still sleeping. The only casualty was his pulse.

“Your exit, dick!” Ronan snapped. Or Dick. It could have been either, really.

Gansey steered in a hurry. Adam blinked awake. Ronan swore. Gansey’s heart restarted.

Eyes on the road, Gansey.

At the airport, the professor was not waiting at the outdoor passenger pick-up area as arranged, nor did he pick up his phone. They finally found him sitting by the baggage carousel, near a group of chattering people, a tower of luggage, and an irritable-looking service dog. He looked precisely as Gansey remembered him. There was something of a turtle in his visage, and he had not only one chin, but another waiting in line behind it. His nose and his ears appeared to be fashioned whimsically from rubber. The round bags beneath his eyes perfectly mirrored his round brow lines. His expression was befuddled.

“Mr. Malory!” Gansey said gladly.

“Oh, God,” Ronan said under his breath. “He’s so old.”

Adam punched Ronan, saving Gansey the trouble.

“Gansey,” Malory said, clasping hands with him. “What a relief.”

“I’m terribly sorry to keep you waiting — I called!”

“My blasted phone. The battery on these things is rubbish. It is like a conspiracy to sell us something. Blood pressure medication, possibly. Are airplanes always like that? So full of people?”

“I’m afraid so,” Gansey said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Adam was regarding Malory in a not entirely Adam sort of way, his head cocked, pensive concentration in his eyes. Disconcerted, Gansey hurried on. “Let me introduce you. These are my friends: Ronan, Adam Parrish, and Jane.”

Adam’s expression focused. Became Adam-like. He blinked over to Gansey.

“Blue,” Blue corrected.

“Oh, yes, you are blue,” Malory agreed. “How perceptive you are. What was the name? Jane? This is the lady I spoke to on the phone all those months ago, right? How small she is. Are you done growing?”

“What!” Blue said.

Gansey felt it was time to remove Malory from the terminal. “Which of these is your bag?”

“All of them,” Malory said tragically.

Ronan was trying his best to meaningfully catch Gansey’s eye, but Gansey wouldn’t let him. The teens collected the bags. The service dog got up.

Blue, friend to all canines, said, “Whoa there, fellow. You stay here.”

“Oh, no,” Malory protested. “The Dog is mine.”

They eyed the Dog. It wore a smart blue vest that advertised its usefulness without providing further details.

“Okay,” Gansey said.

He avoided another meaningful look from Ronan. On the curb outside, they all stopped for Malory to remove the Dog’s vest and then they watched the Dog relieve itself on the sign for the rental car shuttle.

Ronan asked, “What’s the Dog for?”

Malory’s turtle mouth got very small. “He is a service animal.”

“What nature of service does he provide?”

“Excuse you,” Malory replied.

Gansey avoided a third meaningful look from both Adam and Malory.

They reached the car, which had gotten no larger since they entered the terminal. Gansey disliked confronting the consequences of his folly so directly.

Ladies and gentlemen, my trick for you today will be to take this 1973 Camaro —

Removing the spare tire from the trunk, Gansey abandoned it beside a streetlight. The price of Malory’s visit.

— and fit five people, a dog, and a hell of a lot of luggage inside.

After performing this magic trick, he sank into the driver’s seat. The Dog was panting anxiously. Gansey knew how it felt.

“May I pet her? Him?” Blue asked.

“Yes,” Malory replied. “But he won’t enjoy it. He’s very highly strung.”

Gansey allowed Blue to exchange a meaningful glance with him in the rearview mirror as they got back onto the interstate.

“The food on the plane was appalling; it is amazing the staff has not perished of bleeding ulcers,” said Malory. He slapped Gansey’s arm so suddenly that both Gansey and the Dog jumped in surprise. “Do you know anything about the drapery that was lost to the English in Mawddwy?”

“Drapery? Oh. Oh. It had women with red hands on it? I thought they’d decided it was a flag,” Gansey said.

“Yes, yes, that’s the very one. You are good!”

Gansey thought he was no better than one would expect after seven years of fairly single-minded study, but he appreciated the sentiment. He raised his voice so as to include the backseat in the conversation. “It’s actually very interesting. The English pursued some of Glendower’s men, and though they got away, the English got ahold of this ancient drapery. Flag, whatever. The red hands are interesting because red hands are associated with the Mab Darogan, a mythic title. It was given to people like King Arthur and Llewellyn the Great and of course Owain Lawgoch —”