Eventually, we came to a key-carded door. Aunt Grace swiped her card, and the door opened onto the parking lot that I had spotted when I’d been standing in line. She guided me to an elegant black Mercedes. The car was so pristine she could have driven it off the lot five minutes ago. It had that lovely new car scent, somewhat spoiled by the tacky, rose-shaped car freshener that hung from the rearview mirror. At least it wasn’t one of those pine-tree taxi-cab specials.

“Your bag is in the trunk,” Aunt Grace told me before I had a chance to ask. Then she started the car and we were on our way.

The bridge over the moat was a narrow, two-lane affair, and the guard rails on the side looked kind of flimsy to me. Maybe that was just because the moat’s murky, nasty water gave me the creeps.

Trying to ignore the water, I glanced over my shoulder—a bit wistfully—at the gatehouse that marked the border between Avalon and the mortal world. A part of me was already wishing I’d never set foot out of my mom’s house. Yeah, it majorly sucked living with her, taking care of her, lying to all my friends about her. But at least she was the devil I knew.

A wave of nausea rolled over me, and my vision went momentarily blurry. I turned back around to face front.

“Is something wrong?” Grace asked.

I shook my head and swallowed past the nausea. “I’m just jet-lagged and stressed out and maybe even a little motion sick.” I wondered if she’d mind me barfing in her shiny new car. I bet the answer was yes.

“What did you mean when you said my father was ‘indisposed’?” I asked her as my stomach—luckily—settled down.

“He’s had a spot of … legal trouble, I suppose you’d call it.” The Mercedes began its smooth, effortless ascent of the steep two-lane road that spiraled up the mountain. “But don’t worry. Everything should be cleared up in a day or two. And I’ll take good care of you until he’s home.”

“Where is he?”

The corners of her mouth tightened, and she hesitated before answering. “Very well, if you must know,” she said, making it sound like I’d been badgering her about it for hours, “he’s in jail.”

I gasped. Steering with one negligent hand, she reached over and patted my knee. I had to resist an urge to jerk away.

“It is merely a misunderstanding,” she said in what was supposed to be a soothing tone. “He’ll be seen by the Council tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, and he’s certain to be released at that time.”

My father was in jail. Of all the problems I’d imagined facing in Avalon, this wasn’t one of them. My hand crept again to the cameo I wore, fingers nervously stroking the textured surface. Grace’s eyes tracked my gesture. Her lips thinned when she saw the cameo, but she didn’t say anything. I dropped my hand anyway.

I was bubbling over with more questions, but at that moment, Grace pulled into a tiny parking lot, big enough for maybe a half dozen cars at most. She was out of the car and popping the trunk before I’d managed to get a single one of my questions out. Again, I didn’t think it was by accident.

I was too tired to deal with this now. After I’d had a nap and didn’t feel so much like roadkill, I’d sit down with dear old Aunt Grace and have a long heart-to-heart in which she would explain what was going on with my dad. Like why he was in jail. And what was this Council he was going to be seen by? I belatedly wished I’d read up on the Avalon governmental system. All I could remember about it from civics class was that it was unlike any other government in the world, and the duties were shared equally between humans and Fae.

Grace opened the trunk for me, but she left it to me to do the heavy lifting. I sure was glad my bag had wheels. Without a word, she led me down one of the cobblestone side streets. The cobblestones weren’t exactly easy on the wheels, and I struggled to keep the bag upright. And to keep it out of the puddles that gathered in the low spots, and the horse crap that gave the street a distinctively barnlike smell.

I must have been making some kind of face, because Grace actually volunteered information for the first time I could remember.

“The internal combustion engine does not function in Faerie,” she explained. “Those who have reason to travel between Avalon and Faerie perforce do so on horseback, so you’ll see a great many more horses here than you might in most cities.”

This was probably fascinating information, and no doubt I should be gawking at my exotic surroundings. But the jet lag was too overwhelming, and I was struggling too hard with my stupid luggage to manage it.

I was relieved beyond words when we finally came to a stop in front of a picturesque stone row house. It was three stories high and rather narrow, but the old-fashioned, leaded-glass windows and the window boxes overflowing with white roses gave it a pleasant, homey look.

Aunt Grace muttered something under her breath, and the door made a series of clicking sounds before it swung open. No one had touched it.

Magic, my mind mumbled. But I was too tired and grouchy to be properly impressed.

I didn’t get a good look at the interior, because Grace immediately led me upstairs to the third floor. And no, she didn’t offer to help me haul my bag up the two narrow wooden staircases.

“Here we are,” she said, opening the first door at the top of the stairs.

I hauled my luggage over the threshold, then dropped it gratefully. The room looked really nice, but all I really had eyes for was the huge, soft-looking four-poster bed. Never had a bed looked more inviting.