A Red-Rose Chain

Just like that, I realized what I was being asked. I glanced to Tybalt, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. He’d known this would happen when he brought me here, and he hadn’t warned me, maybe because he was afraid I wouldn’t agree to come, and maybe just because he, like everyone else in my life, was in the habit of keeping secrets that didn’t need to be kept.

We’d have to talk about that later. For the moment, there was a King of Cats who needed an answer. “No, Sire, that’s not the extent of my powers,” I said politely, focusing my attention back on Jolgeir. “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, yes. I can adjust the balance of someone else’s blood, if given their consent. I can pull the mortality out of a changeling—or I can make them fully mortal, and let them be human without needing to be killed.”

“I have three daughters,” he said. His voice dipped at the end, turning more serious than anything he had said since we walked into his store. “The eldest of them is twenty-eight. She’s so beautiful. She looks so much like her mother.”

“Have all three of them made the Choice?” I asked.

His nod was brief. “All three of them chose Faerie. Libby encouraged them, although she didn’t know what the consequences would be if they chose the human world. She loves me. She’s loved me since I was just silly old Joe at the library. How could I tell her I would have been forced to kill our babies if they had chosen to be like she was?”

He sounded so anguished that I almost forgot myself and approached the throne—a diplomatic misstep that would have been hard to recover from. But even my sympathy was mixed with rage. Oberon had created the hope chests to prevent situations like this one, and what had happened to them? They were locked up in treasuries and lost in private collections, and no one could use them for their intended purpose. Amandine could have filled some of that gap, but she’d chosen to hide instead, pretending to be Daoine Sidhe, while countless changelings died of old age or at the hands of their parents when they made the wrong Choice.

Not all Cait Sidhe offered their children the Choice. Those who did apparently offered it in all its aspects . . . even the fatal ones.

“You couldn’t tell her,” I said. “Yes, Sire. I can give them the option. It’s painful. It takes a lot out of me—and because of that, I’m afraid I can’t promise to do anything before this war between the Mists and Silences has been averted. But once that’s done, yes. I can let your girls Choose again, and whatever they decide, I can help them make it real.”

“I’ve always thought my middle daughter could have been a Princess,” said Jolgeir, collapsing backward in his seat and staring at me. “She’s so strong, even with human blood in her veins. Take that away . . .”

“If she chooses to be fully fae, I’ll help her,” I said. “But not until we avert this war. Or win it, I suppose.”

“Well.” He looked to Tybalt. “My Court stands with yours. If this war can’t be avoided, the Cait Sidhe of the Court of Whispering Cats will fight for the Mists, and we will win.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well. Um. Good.”

We still might go to war. But I was beginning to feel like, if we did, we might stand a chance.





FIFTEEN




TYBALT AND I WERE nowhere near the comic book store when we left the Court of Cats. That was normal. I hoped Jolgeir at least had ended up back at his place of business, since otherwise Susie was going to be minding the front of the store for a long damn time.

“Stupid nonlinear space,” I complained.

We were standing next to a bright pink storefront that smelled strongly of sugar. Tybalt nudged me onto a bench and vanished inside, returning a few minutes later with a bakery box as violently pink as the business that had produced it.

“Here,” he said, pressing the box into my hands. “You should eat something before you yell at me. You’ll be able to work up a better head of steam if you fuel yourself.”

I eyed him sidelong before opening the box. It was full of donuts. That was normal. The donuts were covered in cereal, M&Ms, and in the case of one large maple bar, bacon. I blinked. “Tybalt?”

“Yes?”