The Winter Long

I knew what he meant. “You’re talking about borrowing other people’s magic through their blood,” I said.

“Yes,” said Simon. “Blood magic is so much more flexible than most could ever dream.”

“Uh-huh,” I said curtly. I knew full well what blood magic was capable of. I had seen Duchess Treasa Riordan use blood magic to force Chelsea Ames to rip open doors in the walls between the Summerlands and Annwn. I had borrowed the teleportation magic of both Windermere siblings—Arden when she was being controlled by the false Queen of the Mists, and Nolan when Tybalt and I were at risk of dying in a room made almost entirely of iron. I could see the appeal of having all the powers in Faerie at your beck and call. I just wasn’t sure the need to drink other people’s blood was a worthwhile tradeoff.

“You think you know everything, October, but I assure you, you have so much more to learn. Things even your mother never took the time to learn. E—” He stopped before he even finished the first syllable of Evening’s name, making a thin wheezing noise. Finally, the sound tapered off. Simon coughed and amended, “My benefactor taught me so many things that you could never even dream of.”

“Was it worth it?” I cocked my head. “Because it sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself almost as much as you’re trying to convince me right now.”

“I admit, things didn’t go exactly as planned.” Simon sighed. “I thought I would beg a boon of someone more powerful than I, and be asked to give my life—or at least my fealty—in exchange for what I received. Instead, I found myself indentured against future rewards. I did whatever I was asked to do. I was a willing slave, and every morning I went to sleep with the faces of my wife and daughter in my heart, reminding me of what I did this for.”

“And uh, where does Oleander fit into your nice little story of nobility and self-sacrifice? Because for a married man, you seemed awfully fond of her.”

“The Lady de Merelands—for she was a lady once, even if she left her title years and miles behind her—had been a servant of our mutual benefactor’s for a long time. A service was apparently performed for her once: I do not know what it was. She never told me, and after a time, I stopped asking. It . . . amused Oleander to be with a man who had been with your mother, and by that time Amandine and I were separated. So I was asked to go to Oleander’s bed, to warm her and to show that I was truly willing to do anything for the sake of my daughter’s return.” Simon spoke calmly, methodically, like he was giving a deposition in court. In a way, I suppose he was. “I won’t claim not to have enjoyed my time with her. She was capable of her own form of sweetness, when she felt the need, and I have never done well alone. But I did not seek her out. She was given to me, and I to her, by the one who held our loyalty.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The circumstances—” began Simon.

I cut him off. “I don’t give two fucks about the circumstances. Yes, it sucks that my sister,” the words were still strange, “disappeared, but you don’t sell your soul because your kid is missing. You find another way. You go to the Luidaeg. You ask Luna to appeal to her parents. You walk away the minute the person you’re asking for help says ‘sure, but you have to pledge fealty to me and sleep with this lady who we’re pretty sure murders people for fun and also maybe some other stuff and the whole time your kid will still be missing, because I’m not getting her back for you until you prove yourself to me.’ How did you even know Evening could do what she was promising you?”