A Red-Rose Chain

“Do you think Tybalt is bestial?”


The King of Silences paused, pursing his lips. He clearly knew that whatever answer he gave me, I was going to relay it to my fiancé; he just as clearly didn’t want to start a second war, this one between his Kingdom and the Court of Cats. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer. Come on, I thought. Show me how much of a bigot you really are. Hating changelings affected me personally, but it was almost accepted within Faerie: it was the sort of bigotry that no one would question, especially not when it was coming from a King. Even looking down on the Cait Sidhe was generally accepted.

But there are limits.

“I think he is a fine monarch for his own Court,” said Rhys finally. “I have heard little of the Cait Sidhe of San Francisco that would lead me to think them anything other than the very best and brightest among their own kind. Do I think their kind should mix with the rest of the fae? No. I’ve never made any secret of my desire to keep Faerie pure. Please don’t take this as my attempting to discourage your marriage—”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.

“—but the mere fact that you are part human means I can’t be as against it as I normally would be. Your blood is already tainted. It doesn’t need any help from me.”

I stared at him. “Are you real?”

Now it was Rhys’ turn to blink at me. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you a real person? I thought no one really talked like this. My blood isn’t ‘tainted.’ I got it from my parents. My father loved me. Why shouldn’t he have helped make me? And if Tybalt and I have kids, they won’t be tainted either. They’ll be our children, and we’ll love them no matter what their heritage looks like.”

“Really.” The false Queen leaned forward, fixing me with her pale gaze. “Can you truly look at me and say that you won’t pick the humanity out of your babies like a bad line of embroidery, leaving them to grow up immortal and slow, heir to all the glories Faerie has to offer? Overly mixed blood can lead to complications of its own. Will you hold your babies in your arms and condemn them to in-between lives, neither Cait Sidhe nor . . . whatever you are? Tell me lies, October. I promise to pretend that I believe them.”

For a moment, I didn’t say anything at all. Finally, I said, “I am not here to discuss my future children with either one of you. If Tybalt and I decide that we’re going to have kids, we’ll have these conversations the right way: with each other, in private, as a family.”

“You can’t even lie to me.” The false Queen leaned back again, radiating smugness. “You’ll save your children from growing up the way you did, the way I did, and you’ll continue to pretend that Faerie is healthy. But we’ll know the truth, won’t we? You and I, we’ve always known the truth.”

I looked at her for a moment before turning my attention to my plate. I picked up a fork and speared a chunk of potato, the thin gleam of Walther’s counterspell covering the hot fat and rosemary that the potato had been cooked in. I’m sure it was delicious; Rhys wouldn’t have employed any cook who couldn’t handle something as simple as a potato. I didn’t taste anything at all. I was a sea of rage and disorientation, and I didn’t know how to make it stop.

Arden should never have sent me to negotiate for her. Sweet Oberon, I hoped this was part of some incredibly clever plan on her part, that while I was away she was bolstering her defenses and finding ways to stop Rhys’ army at the border, because more and more, I was sure that nothing I did was going to make a difference. I was going to tie myself into knots, and nothing was going to change. This war was going to happen no matter what I did.