answers I needed was on the other side of that door. I just wasn’t sure they were answers I could live with.
The door opened before I was done arguing with myself. The Luidaeg’s familiar, sun-weathered face poked out. “Well?” she demanded. “Are you coming in or not?”
“I’m coming,” I said. She moved out of the way, motioning me impatiently forward, and I stepped inside.
The Luidaeg isn’t one of the world’s great housekeepers. She seems to enjoy living in squalor, allowing mold to grow on her walls and trash to build up on her floor. Still, there’s usually at least a pretense of organization to the place—decaying pillows on the couch, soda cans and dishes in the kitchen. Not this time. Most fae celebrate Beltane with spring cleaning. The Luidaeg appeared to have celebrated with spring destruction.
“What—”
She cut me off with a gesture. “Don’t.” I looked at her blankly. She shook her head. “This isn’t a social visit; we both know that. That means you don’t get an unlimited supply of questions, so let’s not fuck around. Got me?” I nodded mutely. “Good. Now drop the masks. I need to see how far she took it.”
Taking a deep breath, I did as she requested.
If the Luidaeg was surprised by the way I looked, she did an admirable job of not showing it. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but that was all. That tiny gesture could have meant almost anything. “How’s your magic been?”
“Good. Things seem to be coming a little easier.”
“That’s about what I figured. Congrats, kiddo, you’re finally back to where you started. Why’d it take you so long to come and see me? I expected you the minute I heard what happened.”
“How did you—” I stopped myself. Knowing how the Luidaeg heard about my blood being rebalanced didn’t matter as much as some of my other questions. Curiosity and necessity don’t always match. “I crashed as soon as things calmed down. I slept for six days.” You’d think my body would be used to my doing horrible things to it, but when the adrenaline faded, I faded with it.
“Yeah, well, you put yourself through a hell of a lot. That takes care of six days. What about the other four?”
“I had to find a safe way to get here. The Queen’s still a little annoyed.”
The Luidaeg snorted. “Right. So you got here by … ?”
“Waiting for Acacia to show up and then asking her to open a Rose Road.” That wasn’t my first choice. My first choice was the Shadow Roads, preferably with Tybalt as my escort; we needed to talk. Unfortunately, the Cat’s Court was still in chaos, and now that I wasn’t in danger of dying, I wasn’t a priority. Tybalt and I needed to have that talk. We were just going to have it later than I liked.
The rose goblins went for Acacia as soon as Luna was recovered enough to open a gate for them, and Acacia did more for her daughter in a few hours than anyone else had managed in days. The Firstborn are handy that way. I just wish we’d been able to reach her sooner.
“Good call.” The Luidaeg tipped her chin down, studying me. “Three questions, and then you have to go. Don’t waste a question asking why it works that way. It just does.”
“Faerie and her traditions, fucking up my life since time immemorial.” I sighed. “All right, Luidaeg. I know I’m not Daoine Sidhe. What does that make me?”
“It makes you my sister’s daughter.”
I gaped at her. “I … you … what?”
She ignored my second question, continuing, “My father named your race before he left; he called you the Dóchas Sidhe. You’re blood-workers. You must have figured that part out. Beyond that? What you’re for, why Faerie needed you? I can’t say.”
“Can’t say, or don’t know?”
“Ah.” The Luidaeg glanced away, but I saw her smile. “I bet you asked that without counting questions, didn’t you? Congrats. Your impulsiveness isn’t wasted for a change. I can’t say. I’m not allowed, just like I’m not allowed to answer more than three questions today. Don’t ask who made the rules. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“I hate riddles,” I said, still staggered by her statement. Amandine was Firstborn. I wasn’t just “not Daoine Sidhe,” I was the daughter of one of the Firstborn.
That explained a lot, actually.
“Sorry,” said the Luidaeg, unapologetically.
I took a deep breath, and asked the one thing I really needed to know: “Luidaeg, why did my mother lie to me?”
“Fuck, Toby, you just can’t ask the easy ones, can you?” The question had the bitter lilt of the rhetorical; she didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t give one. Sighing, the Luidaeg said, “She lied because she was trying to save you.”
“From what?” I asked, before I could stop myself.
Offering a small, warning shake of her head, she continued, “There are things in Faerie that don’t like your mother much, and they don’t like you either, because you’re the last one left to play heir for her. Sorry. She tried to spare you. First by changing your blood to make you mortal before anyone knew you existed, and then by lying about your heritage. You’d always be weak if you considered yourself Daoine Sidhe. Your race doesn’t have any of Titania’s blood, and she’s the mother of illusions. But if you knew yourself, if you knew what you could do …”
“So she lied to me?” This time, I was the one asking the rhetorical question.
“She thought she was doing the right thing,” said the Luidaeg, tone off-handed enough to make it plain that she wasn’t answering me; just making an observation. “Amandine was never the most stable of my siblings, and that’s saying a lot. Faerie wasn’t kind to her. She thought getting you out was the best thing she could do for you.”
“I … ” I paused. I would have agreed wholeheartedly with Amandine’s decision to turn me human not that long ago. Maybe not after Evening died—I gave back the hope chest, I’d like to think I would’ve been together enough to tell my mother “no”—but before that? Before the pond? I would have told Sylvester thanks but no thanks for a place in his service, told Devin I had a way out, and gone off to live happily ever after in the mortal world.
If I’d done that … Rayseline would still have lost her mind. Evening would still have died. Blind Michael’s Ride would still have taken the children. And I wouldn’t have been there to do anything about any of it.
The Luidaeg sighed at my expression. “She did the best she could. It was fucked-up and wrong for you, but it was still the best she could do. Don’t get me wrong,” she raised a hand, palm turned toward me, “I’m not a fan of Amandine’s. She and I have some old issues. But mothers are allowed to make mistakes.”
If I’d been human, I wouldn’t have left my own daughter behind. Mothers make mistakes. “Luidaeg—”
She shook her head. “No. You’ve had three questions, and as much wiggle room as I can give you. Now’s the time where you get the fuck out of here. Besides, you still look like hammered shit. Go get some sleep. You’re staying at Shadowed Hills?”
“I am.” I dug a hand into my pocket, coming up with a fistful of red-black rose petals that glowed with their own interior light. “Acacia gave me a ticket back for when we were finished here.”
“How sweet of her. I have a detour for you to make before you go back.”
I eyed her warily as I tucked the petals back in my pocket. “Define ‘detour.’ ”
“Detour. A word meaning ‘I’m Firstborn, and I could kick your ass without thinking about it, so how about you just go along with me and nobody gets hurt.’” A corner of the Luidaeg’s mouth tipped upward in the semblance of a smile. “If all my nieces and nephews were as stubborn as you, Faerie would have a much larger under-population problem, because I would never have let them live to breed.”
“You say the sweetest things,” I said blandly. “All right. Where am I going?”
“Through here.” She turned and opened the door to her kitchen closet, displaying rotting mops and ancient canned goods. I raised an eyebrow. She glanced into the closet, said, “Whoops,” and closed the door, pausing a moment before opening it again.
The closet was gone. The doorway opened on the familiar greens of Lily’s knowe. I could see figures in the distance, clustered around one of the pavilions that seemed to crop up there like mushrooms after the rain. I looked at the Luidaeg. She nodded.
“Right,” I said, and offered a wan smile. “So I’ll see you later.”
“After you’ve dealt with the Queen, you come and see me again. Just make sure it’s not for at least a week.
