The Winter Long

“Why is that?” asked Tybalt abruptly.

“Because my children were slaughtered like animals, and the people who killed them kept their skins as souvenirs.” The Luidaeg turned back to Tybalt. This time when the darkness flowed into her eyes, it didn’t flow away again. “My darling sister went to our parents—they were still with us in those days, remember, and they still controlled so much of what we did—and cried that I was blaming her for the actions of the merlins. She said she feared I would harm her. My mother refused her. My father denied her. And her mother bound me. I was forbidden to spread lies—literally forbidden. If I try to tell a lie, my voice stops in my throat and my lungs burn with the need for honest air. I was forbidden to raise a hand against any descendant of Titania’s line. And I was forbidden to refuse my favors to anyone who would meet my price.”

“You became the sea witch because of her?” I asked, unable to keep the horror from my voice.

The Luidaeg spread her hands. “I am what she made of me. I wonder sometimes whether she’s sorry. I don’t think she is. I don’t think she’s capable of that. My mother . . . she took what vengeance she could. Do not ask me what it was. I can’t tell you yet.”

“Yeah, well.” My chowder was half gone, and my bones no longer felt like they were made of Jell-O. I pushed the bowl away. “Evening is at Shadowed Hills. She has my friends. She has my liege. The wards are closed—no one can get in or out. How do I get them back? How do I . . .” I hesitated, the words seeming too large for my mouth. Evening had been my friend for years, or at least I’d believed that she was. “How do I kill her?”

“Honestly, Toby, I don’t think you can.” The Luidaeg stood, gathering our bowls and carrying them quickly to the sink. “But I’ll come with you. I may not be able to fight her directly; I can help you at least a little. And we need to move now. The longer she has Sylvester in her thrall, the more likely it becomes that he’ll never throw off her power. The man you know will be gone, replaced by a shell of loyalty and cold.”

The idea sickened me. “She’s had more than enough time already,” I said. “I can drive us to the park, but I have no idea how we’re going to get through the wards.”

The Luidaeg’s eyes narrowed in chilly amusement. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s more than one way to cross an ocean, and more than one way to crack my sister’s wards. She thinks she’s the smartest of us. She’s not. She’s simply the least scrupulous.”

I looked at her for a moment before shaking my head and saying, “You know, just once, I’d like my life to be all about spending Sunday afternoon in my pajamas, instead of all about racing around the Bay Area trying to stop one of the Firstborn from committing a hostile takeover.”

Tybalt put a hand on my shoulder. “To be fair, this is the first time this particular issue has reared its head.”

“Somehow, not helping,” I said.

The Luidaeg rinsed our bowls and turned, wiping her hands on a dishtowel that she summarily dropped on the counter. She picked up a rose stem that had been lying next to the dish drainer—all that remained of one of Simon’s melted winter roses—and grabbed an apple from May’s bowl of fruit. “Let’s go. I’ll help you get us there. And don’t bother with disguises; no one’s going to see either of you.”

It was better not to ask when the Luidaeg said things like that. I just nodded and followed her out the back door, Tybalt sticking close behind me.

The car waited in the driveway. The Luidaeg walked over to it and put the rose stem down on the middle of the hood, setting her pilfered apple on top of it. “Stand back,” she suggested mildly. “Sometimes this doesn’t work out exactly as I planned it.”