The Winter Long

“What else aren’t you telling me?” He started to protest. I shook my head, stopping him before he could get a word out. “No. Maeve’s teeth, Sylvester, I’m mad at you for keeping secrets, and you’re still doing it. Why the hell would you do a thing like that? You know you’re on thin ice right now.”


“My dear, I’ve been on thin ice for a very long time, especially where your family is concerned.” Sylvester ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he turned to look at the forest blocking our view of Amandine’s tower. “There is so much history between your mother and me, between all of us . . . I don’t even know where to begin. But there are also things that I promised her I would never tell you. I broke one promise to her. I won’t break a second. I’m sorry. I truly am. I love you more than I can ever make you believe, but I gave her my word.”

I stared at him. Finally, I asked the one question I was sure he would actually answer: “What promise did you break?”

“She came to me when she was pregnant with you. She asked me to stay away from her child, from her mortal life, until she chose to reenter Faerie on her own terms.” Sylvester turned back to me. “I won’t apologize for coming to get you before she could make you mortal, but that betrayal has been a wall between us ever since. She’s never forgiven me. I don’t think she ever will.”

“Wait.” I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was one of the people I’d always counted on to never betray me. Unfortunately, right now, it was more important for me to be smart. Purebloods take promises seriously; it’s part of why they hate saying “thank you,” a prohibition that most changelings catch from their fae parents, like catching cooties on the playground. And the next step up from a promise is a geas, a binding enchantment compelling someone to do something—or not to do something. Like, for example, never to tell certain secrets. Ironic, and annoying. “Simon said something while he was at my house. He said he couldn’t speak the name of his employer, because his geas still held. Do you have any idea who might have hired him to kidnap Luna and Rayseline?”

“I have asked myself that question a thousand times without finding an answer. If I had even the faintest clue, I would have tracked that person down years ago and made them pay for everything they had done to me, to my family, and to you,” said Sylvester, a new chill leeching into his words, until every one of them could have frozen me where I stood.

Or maybe that was just the snow we were all standing around in. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to conserve warmth, and said, “Okay. So you don’t know anything that can help us find Simon, and some old promise to my mother matters more to you than I do. Good to know where I stand.”

“October—”

“We’re leaving.” I turned to head for the doors. Sylvester grabbed my arm. I stopped, slowly turning back to look at his hand. Voice level and calm, I said, “Let go of me.”

“I would never allow anyone or anything to harm you. If you believe nothing else, I need you to believe that.”

Except that he was harming me; he had been harming me every time he kept the things I needed to know secret from me. He just couldn’t see it. “I need you to let go of me.”

And then Tybalt was there, shoving his way between us, forcing Sylvester to let me go. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. A low growl was rolling through Tybalt’s chest, making the hair on my arms stand on end. I glanced at Quentin, who was watching the whole scene with wide, frightened eyes.

“I speak to you now as a King to a Duke, and with the utmost respect,” said Tybalt, in a tone that made it clear he could care less if Sylvester took offense. “If October is hurt because you kept a promise to her mother rather than upholding your duty to one who is your sworn vassal, believe me when I say that I will return here on my own, and I will make you sorry you ever allowed harm to come to her.”