Maybe she was ready to be a mother after all. Who was I to blame her for needing a few years to think it over? It wasn’t like she was running out of time, being immortal and all.
“Come on in,” I said, stepping to the side.
She stayed where she was. I blinked. She lifted one eyebrow, and I realized what she was waiting for. I fought to suppress a groan. Leave it to my mother to be the one person in Faerie who expected me to stand on protocol.
“By the root and the branch, you are welcome here; by the rose and the thorn, no harm will be offered to you while you stand beneath my roof,” I said. “Our weapons are bound, our hands are spread, and our hospitality is open to you. By oak and ash and rowan, I swear.”
This time, the twitch blossomed into a proper smile. “Your form is poor and you forgot to require the same promises of peace from me before swearing, but at least you haven’t forgotten everything I ever taught you,” said Amandine, and she stepped inside.
The air in the hallway seemed to chill and change with her arrival, like the house didn’t know what to do with her. That made two of us. I made a quick review of the available rooms. The living room was a mess, as always, and the TV was still on; the dining room was mostly okay, except for the part where Jazz was doing one of her big decoupage projects on the table, and Amandine had never shown much appreciation for construction paper. That left . . .
“Follow me, Mother,” I said. “The kitchen’s this way. I can make us something to drink, and you can tell me why you’re here.”
“Your manners are lacking,” she said. “Hopefully, your selection of teas is not.”
She fell into step behind me, leaving May frozen by the door. I was starting to worry that she’d thrown some sort of whammy on my Fetch when May shivered like she was shaking off some deep enchantment and turned to follow us. Tybalt was next to her. He had hidden my knives somewhere, probably inside his jeans or the burgundy Oregon Shakespeare Festival sweatshirt he was wearing.
A pang of irritation lanced through me. A modern, casual Tybalt is something I don’t get to see very often. Mom’s arrival suddenly felt like a robbery. I quashed the feeling as quickly as I could. I hadn’t spent any real time with my mother in years. The fact that she was getting in the way of my morning make outs really shouldn’t matter.
Jazz was in the kitchen when we stepped inside, standing at the stove, stirring a pot of hot chocolate. She turned toward the sound of the door opening, a smile on her face. It froze when she saw my mother, turning puzzled. I realized that she had no idea who Amandine was.
“Mother, I’d like you to meet Jasmine Patel, my housemate,” I said.
“My girlfriend,” said May. Her voice was shaky, but there was steel at its core.
As a Fetch, as my Fetch, she remembered Amandine as her mother, even though Amandine had no reason to remember her. That had to feel like rejection, however blameless my mother was in the situation. For once. If we were looking for things to actually blame Amandine for, I was sure we could find plenty. Starting with “why have so many of the Firstborn I know called you ‘the Liar’ like it was your title?” and going on from there.
“A Raven-maid? How quaint.” Amandine looked around the kitchen, a small frown on her lips. “Really, October, when you rejected your mortality, I didn’t expect you to turn around and embrace it quite so enthusiastically. This place is positively shameful.”
“We like it,” I said, tamping down my annoyance again. Amandine was Firstborn. Amandine was a pureblood, centuries old, who didn’t have as much contact with the mortal world as most of the purebloods I interacted with. Of course, her standards were going to be different. Losing my temper wasn’t going to do any of us any good.
Maybe if I told myself that enough times, it would somehow magically stop me from getting angry. I didn’t think so, though.
“Would you like some hot chocolate?” asked Jazz hesitantly. “I made it myself. It’s quite good.”
“Is the cream from the Crodh Sith?” asked Amandine.
“No, Mom, we don’t travel all the way down to Golden Shore to get our milk,” I said. “It’s ordinary milk, from ordinary cows, bought at the ordinary store.”
“Actually, it’s from Whole Foods,” said Jazz.
Amandine sniffed. “Remind me, October: why, when Sylvester came to you, did you not choose a mortal life? Since that’s so clearly what you’re trying to create for yourself here. You could have saved us both ever so much trouble.”
“You were the one who tried to choose mortality for me, Mom,” I said, before I could think better of it.
Silence fell, broken only by the soft bubbling of Jazz’s cocoa. Then Amandine smiled.
“Yes, exactly,” she said. “When I had the chance, I tried to choose mortality for you. If Sylvester had arrived to find a human child, he wouldn’t have offered you the Changeling’s Choice, because there would have been nothing to choose. He would have walked away. I could have been with you every day of your life, the best and most loving of mothers, until I laid you to bed in a blanket of earth, with a pillow of stones for your head. I tried. You tied my hands. To have you going back on your choice now, it’s . . . well, it’s shameful, October. You should at least have the courage of your convictions.”
I stared at her for a moment, stunned into silence. Tybalt moved to stand behind me, not looming, not threatening my mother, but lending what support he could through his sheer presence.
Finally, I took a deep breath and asked, “Why are you here, Mother? I’m assuming it isn’t to criticize my interior decorating.”
“I’ve been informed that you’re continuing to play at being a detective.” Amandine sniffed. “It seems an odd thing to spend your time doing, as we both know you have no native talents in the area, but if you will persist, then it seems you are equipped to do me a boon.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I wish to hire you.”
This time, the moment of silence lasted a lot longer. Then, almost despite myself, I started to laugh. Once I started, I discovered that I couldn’t stop. I bent forward, one hand pressed against my stomach, trying to make the laughter end. It refused.
Tybalt put a hand on my back, steadying me. May looked alarmed. And Amandine . . .
Amandine looked resigned, like she had expected nothing better from me, her changeling daughter. That killed my mirth right quick. I stopped laughing and straightened, taking some small comfort in the weight of Tybalt’s hand against my spine. I wasn’t a child anymore. Amandine might be my mother, and one of the Firstborn, but so what? I’d stood up to Firstborn before. I’d killed one of them. I didn’t want to kill my mother, but it helped to know that she wasn’t invincible.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It sounded like you insulted my profession and then said you wanted to hire me.”
“Yes, because that’s exactly what I did.”
“Mom . . .” I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Okay, what do you want to hire me to do? Did you lose something?”