Rosemary and Rue

“How did you bring me here?” I asked, looking past the flowers to her face.

“I didn’t,” she said, and smiled. “Blood in the water, remember? When you were brought to my doors, I could let you in, and grant you succor, because of the permission you gave me with that blood. I can do no more unless you grant me your consent.”

“Brought to your doors?” I asked.

“You have more friends than you believe, October. Will you let me help you?”

Undine magic has rules. When I bled in Lily’s waters, I gave her permission to keep me alive; she couldn’t do anything more than that unless I told her she could.

“Of course,” I said, closing my eyes again. With Evening’s curse hanging over me, I couldn’t afford to pass on anything that might be an offer of help.

“Very well, then. For now, rest. I need nothing more of you.” I felt her bringing the foxgloves down to the edge of the wound in my shoulder, brushing them over the worst of the damage. They stung as they touched skin before a cool, anesthetic numbness began to spread outward from their petals. Foxglove is poisonous—lovely, deadly, and probably not the best thing to put in an open wound. Then again, I’d been paying my tolls with mushrooms all day, and I’m not a healer. If Lily thought rubbing foxglove into my shoulder would help me, she was probably right, and even if she wasn’t, she couldn’t do more damage than I already had.

Lily started chanting in Japanese. The anesthetic coolness spread further, dulling the feeling in my arm and neck as the air filled with the scent of water lilies and hibiscus flowers. When the chant was done, she pressed her hand against my cheek, and said, “The world will wait for you, and be here on your return.”

That was all the permission I needed. I sighed and stopped fighting to stay awake, letting myself drift away, back into the dark.

Lily’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember; longer than Sylvester, even, and that takes some doing. Mom used to take me to the Tea Gardens when we were still playing human, putting Daddy off with excuses about “girl time.” Lily was always there, glad to see us, but watching my mother with a wariness I didn’t understand until much, much later. Lily watched her because it’s hard to trust a faerie bride: they’re building a life on lies, and they’ll deny anything that gets in their way.

She was still there when I left the Summerlands. I toyed briefly with going to serve her instead of Devin, but Devin’s offer was flashier, more exciting, and I was my mother’s daughter; I was looking for excitement. Still, we stayed close, and her doors remained open to me, right up until the day things went wrong . . . for both of us.

I went to Lily a few days after I broke free of the pond, still in shock and half hysterical with grief. I wanted to know why she hadn’t saved me. I learned more than I’d bargained for.

“He placed walls around my fiefdom,” she said. “I was lonely, October, so lonely, and my magic is for growth and healing, not transformation. I couldn’t save you, child. I could only keep you as comfortable as the water would allow. I’m sorry.”