The Winter Long

I stared at him.

Under fae law, a pureblood who has an affair with a mortal isn’t even cheating on their spouse. Showing bad judgment, maybe, but that’s it. Which meant that marrying Dad wouldn’t have required my mother to divorce Simon, because the marriage wouldn’t have counted under fae law. It was just a dalliance taken uncomfortably far. It wasn’t real.

“This isn’t happening,” I said.

Sylvester stood. “I’m afraid it is.”

“Simon Torquill is my stepfather.”

He nodded.

“That’s just . . . that’s not okay.”

“No, it’s not. But I believe it may be why he chose to transform you, rather than killing you. My wrath means nothing to him. Your mother’s, on the other hand . . . there is nothing in this world he wants or yearns for more than Amandine’s forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for what?” I asked.

Sylvester turned his face away.

I groaned. “So great, he did something so bad you won’t tell me about it even now, and now he’s back in the Kingdom, where he can get to her.” I shook my head, pushing my shock and anger aside in the face of something much more immediately important. “Oak and ash, Sylvester, we have to warn my mother that he’s coming.” Amandine would have no idea. She wouldn’t be prepared. And Firstborn or not, if he took her by surprise . . .

Sylvester shook his head. “Your mother is the last person he would bring to harm, in this world or any other. He loves her. He has always loved her.”

“He’s your brother, and he kidnapped your wife and his own niece,” I snapped. “Why the hell would his estranged wife be off the list of people to hurt?”

“Perhaps because he and Luna have never cared for each other,” Sylvester said. “Why he would hurt Rayseline, I don’t know.” The fury sparked in his eyes again, just for an instant; long enough that I had to struggle not to look away. “I would love the opportunity to ask him. In private.”

I swallowed hard and said, “We don’t know why he’s here. We don’t know what he wants. I want to know that my mother is all right. Please.”

Sylvester sighed. “All right,” he said. “If nothing else, he may have gone to see her. If he has been and gone, perhaps she can tell me where to find him—and if she won’t agree to do that, I may be able to find a trace of his magic to follow. And then . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

For the first time in my life, I found myself in the awkward position of actually feeling bad for Simon Torquill.





FIVE


WE STEPPED BACK through the main gate. Tybalt and Quentin were standing on the other side of the hallway, next to the wall, and talking in low, intense voices. Tybalt glanced up, seeming to realize that they weren’t alone anymore. Quentin did the same a heartbeat later. Both of them went quiet, stepping apart. Quentin looked at me anxiously. After that first moment, Tybalt didn’t look at me at all. I sighed and filed that away as something I could ask about later. I had a huge file of things to ask about later, and I almost never remembered to ask any of them.

“I should get a secretary,” I muttered.

“What’s that?” asked Sylvester.

“Nothing.” I turned to the boys. “Do you want the short form or the long form? Never mind, scratch that, you’re getting the short form right now, and you’ll get the long form later, probably over alcohol, ice cream, or both. Simon Torquill was married to my mother. Is still married to my mother under fae law. That means he’s family, and that means he can enter her tower without her giving direct and immediate consent. She’s probably not in any danger, since she’s Firstborn, but she’s also confused, so he might be able to get around her defenses. I want her warned at the absolute least, and preferably moved here. Any questions?”