The Winter Long

“Come along,” said Tybalt, turning to head in the other direction. He kept his hand on my arm, using it to steer me. “We have much ground to cover.”


I was startled enough that I allowed him to pull me for several steps before I stopped, becoming a dead weight against his hand. He turned his head to look at me, expression mild.

“Are you going to begin the shouting while we’re still inside? I ask only because I advised your liege that we’d be in the garden, and I know how you hate disappointing him.”

“Sylvester has been lying to me for my entire life,” I said. “To say I’m not happy with him would be an understatement, but I don’t need you at each other’s throats—”

“October.” Tybalt didn’t take his hand off my arm. “There is no love lost between Sylvester Torquill and myself; there may never be any love there to lose. But I have no objection to his presence, if he will protect us from his brother. Forgive me if I would do whatever needs doing to keep you safe. If you cannot forgive, please understand that I’m never going to change my ways in this regard. Perhaps not in any regard touching on your safety.”

I blinked at him, glancing reflexively to Quentin.

He shook his head. “I’m not getting involved with this one. He’s your boyfriend. Also, I think he’s pretty much right, but I’m not sure I’m allowed to say so, what with the whole squire and loyalty thing in the way.”

“Why did I let you people outnumber me?” I demanded. I turned, starting to walk in the direction Tybalt had been trying to push me. I kept my chin high, trying to show that I was choosing to walk this way.

“Because somewhere in that lovely skull of yours is a glimmer of self-preservation, fighting against all odds to remain intact and keep the rest of you breathing,” said Tybalt, hurrying to keep up. He still didn’t take his hand off my arm. Matching his steps to mine, he continued, “This does raise an interesting question of protocol, however. I had regarded Sylvester as the closest thing you have to a father figure. However, if Simon has a legal claim to the role, I may have to approach him as your eldest male relative.”

I opened my mouth to swear at him, and paused, walking in silence for several steps before I asked, “Is this your way of distracting me from the fact that we’re going to wait on the lawn when my mother may be in danger?”

“Yes,” said Tybalt calmly. “Is it working?”

“If you mean ‘is it making me want to kill you with a brick,’ then yes. It’s working.” I sighed. I might be furious, but it was good to know there were some things I could always count on where Tybalt was concerned. It was even better to know that Sylvester was going to be with us, serving the dual purposes of providing backup and keeping himself in my sight. Upset as I was with him, I didn’t want to think about him here, at Shadowed Hills, where I wouldn’t be able to do anything to help him.

“I know you’re worried, but Amandine is Firstborn,” said Quentin. “I’m pretty sure she can take care of herself.”

“Amandine’s not so good at paying attention to her surroundings right now, and she married Simon,” I said. “Maybe she can take care of herself, but is she going to realize she needs to? Because I’m afraid she’s just going to open the door and invite him back into her life.”

“I doubt even your mother would be so foolish,” said Tybalt, and opened the door to the back garden. For a moment, we all just stared.

“. . . whoa,” I said.