Rosemary and Rue
Page 25
He raised his head, a smile lighting his features as he met my eyes. With a small pang, I realized that he was genuinely glad to see me. “Toby!” he said. “You finally decided to come home. I was starting to worry. I didn’t think you’d stay away this long.” He paused, and smirked before adding, “Nice dress.”
“I was a little busy being enchanted and abandoned . . . and please, for Oberon’s sake, don’t mention the dress.” I dropped myself into the chair in front of his desk. It groaned under my weight. Keeping my eyes on his face, I asked the most neutral question I could. “How are you?”
Devin sobered, frowning. “Better than you, from what I hear. Toby, what happened? Why didn’t you come back? I would have let you come back. You’re always welcome here.”
“You know why I couldn’t,” I said, glancing down. “Do we really have to go over this again?”
“Maybe if we do, we’ll finally get past it.”
I took a deep breath, words catching in my throat. Twice. I saw Devin twice after I left Home for Sylvester’s Court. The first time was cold and bitter, but it was a natural end; he knew better than to challenge Sylvester’s claim on me. The second was the day I came looking for Julie and found him in the front room, waiting for me. He grabbed my arm and asked if the rumors were true—if I was really pregnant with my human lover’s child. And I told him I was.
That was the beginning of the biggest fight we ever had. I’m sure the kids still talk about it in the hushed tones usually reserved for natural disasters. We screamed, we ranted, we threw things at one another’s heads, and in the end, he let me go, but not without extracting one last promise in payment for the favors he’d done for me: I wouldn’t marry Cliff until Gillian was thirteen years old. She was only a quarter-blood, and if she hadn’t been forced to make the Changeling’s Choice by then, she probably wouldn’t have to. Until then, for her sake, he wanted me to be ready to walk away. I laughed in his face and told him I’d send him a wedding invitation. I’m sure he wasn’t surprised when it never came.
Finally, head still bowed, I whispered, “I didn’t even get to see her thirteenth birthday.”
“But that’s not why you’re here today.”
“No.” He was backing off, showing mercy. For once, I decided to take it. “It’s not.”
Raising my head, I looked around the room. All the same furniture was there, although the old brown couch had a larger dip in the middle now, and the same stains were on the wallpaper; even the dent by the door was still there, marking the spot where Julie tried to shove Mitch through the wall for making a crack about her latest boyfriend. I cleared my throat. “The place hasn’t changed.”
“I didn’t want it to.”
I looked at him, arching one eyebrow. “I thought change was your hobby.”
“Not here. Never here.” He shrugged, and for a moment I could see how old he really was. All the years were in his eyes. “Why didn’t you come before now? We were thrilled when we found out that you weren’t dead. We could have helped. I could have helped. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why? So you could remind me how stupid I was to leave? How you always knew the purebloods would just use me? I’m sorry, but I’ve never been real fond of paying for my abuse. Most people are willing to hurt me for nothing.” I was lashing out. I knew it, and I didn’t care. Evening was dead, the life I’d worked so hard to build was gone, and Home . . . Home was still where I stopped, and all the old ghosts were waiting. It wasn’t fair.
His expression didn’t change. That just made it worse. “We missed you.”
“I missed me, too.” I sighed, trying to keep my temper under control. I’m not usually that touchy, but Devin always brought out the worst in me. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hard night.”
“We heard about the Winterrose. I’m sorry, Toby.” There was genuine sorrow in his voice. I frowned. Devin always hated Evening. Hearing him say he was sorry for her death was almost unbelievable.
“What was she to you?” I asked. Real tactful there, Toby.
He stared at me. When he spoke again, the warmth was gone, replaced by a bitter chill. “She kept this place alive after you disappeared. You know the purebloods would love to shut us down. All they need is an excuse—any excuse—and you seemed like a great start.
“You’re the one that went out and played the brave knight, Toby; you’re the one that started here and went on to something more. You made the Queen leave us alone, because she couldn’t rise against your home fiefdom without insulting your liege. That offended the hell out of her, and once you weren’t standing between her and us anymore, she stopped backing down.”
That was news to me. “She was going to move against you?”
“She almost did, until the Winterrose stopped her, in your name. Evening never approved of us, but she protected us anyway, and she did it for you. Did Sylvester try that hard to keep your memory alive?” He paused, expression challenging. I looked away. There were no words that could say what I needed to say to him; I wasn’t even willing to try.
There was a long pause, and when he continued, he sounded almost impossibly tired. When did the world get so old? “At first she was doing it for you, but I like to think that maybe, toward the end, she was doing it for herself. That she finally understood why we were here.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No,” he said, “you didn’t want to know. You pigeonholed her the way you’ve pigeonholed everybody else, and you ignored her when she tried to step out of the role you’d given her. You’ve done that for as long as I’ve known you, Toby, and I think I’ve known you longer than just about anyone else in this world.”
“I didn’t think—”
“That’s not much of a surprise.” He stopped and took a deep breath before flashing me a smile that managed to show all of his teeth at once. “But enough about you—let’s talk about me. Did you come here to sleep with me?”
I forced a smile, back on familiar ground. I could ignore the way his words stung until the job was over. “Sorry, Devin. Not this time.”
“Afraid that you can’t walk away from me twice?”
“I was a little busy being enchanted and abandoned . . . and please, for Oberon’s sake, don’t mention the dress.” I dropped myself into the chair in front of his desk. It groaned under my weight. Keeping my eyes on his face, I asked the most neutral question I could. “How are you?”
Devin sobered, frowning. “Better than you, from what I hear. Toby, what happened? Why didn’t you come back? I would have let you come back. You’re always welcome here.”
“You know why I couldn’t,” I said, glancing down. “Do we really have to go over this again?”
“Maybe if we do, we’ll finally get past it.”
I took a deep breath, words catching in my throat. Twice. I saw Devin twice after I left Home for Sylvester’s Court. The first time was cold and bitter, but it was a natural end; he knew better than to challenge Sylvester’s claim on me. The second was the day I came looking for Julie and found him in the front room, waiting for me. He grabbed my arm and asked if the rumors were true—if I was really pregnant with my human lover’s child. And I told him I was.
That was the beginning of the biggest fight we ever had. I’m sure the kids still talk about it in the hushed tones usually reserved for natural disasters. We screamed, we ranted, we threw things at one another’s heads, and in the end, he let me go, but not without extracting one last promise in payment for the favors he’d done for me: I wouldn’t marry Cliff until Gillian was thirteen years old. She was only a quarter-blood, and if she hadn’t been forced to make the Changeling’s Choice by then, she probably wouldn’t have to. Until then, for her sake, he wanted me to be ready to walk away. I laughed in his face and told him I’d send him a wedding invitation. I’m sure he wasn’t surprised when it never came.
Finally, head still bowed, I whispered, “I didn’t even get to see her thirteenth birthday.”
“But that’s not why you’re here today.”
“No.” He was backing off, showing mercy. For once, I decided to take it. “It’s not.”
Raising my head, I looked around the room. All the same furniture was there, although the old brown couch had a larger dip in the middle now, and the same stains were on the wallpaper; even the dent by the door was still there, marking the spot where Julie tried to shove Mitch through the wall for making a crack about her latest boyfriend. I cleared my throat. “The place hasn’t changed.”
“I didn’t want it to.”
I looked at him, arching one eyebrow. “I thought change was your hobby.”
“Not here. Never here.” He shrugged, and for a moment I could see how old he really was. All the years were in his eyes. “Why didn’t you come before now? We were thrilled when we found out that you weren’t dead. We could have helped. I could have helped. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Why? So you could remind me how stupid I was to leave? How you always knew the purebloods would just use me? I’m sorry, but I’ve never been real fond of paying for my abuse. Most people are willing to hurt me for nothing.” I was lashing out. I knew it, and I didn’t care. Evening was dead, the life I’d worked so hard to build was gone, and Home . . . Home was still where I stopped, and all the old ghosts were waiting. It wasn’t fair.
His expression didn’t change. That just made it worse. “We missed you.”
“I missed me, too.” I sighed, trying to keep my temper under control. I’m not usually that touchy, but Devin always brought out the worst in me. “I’m sorry. It’s been a hard night.”
“We heard about the Winterrose. I’m sorry, Toby.” There was genuine sorrow in his voice. I frowned. Devin always hated Evening. Hearing him say he was sorry for her death was almost unbelievable.
“What was she to you?” I asked. Real tactful there, Toby.
He stared at me. When he spoke again, the warmth was gone, replaced by a bitter chill. “She kept this place alive after you disappeared. You know the purebloods would love to shut us down. All they need is an excuse—any excuse—and you seemed like a great start.
“You’re the one that went out and played the brave knight, Toby; you’re the one that started here and went on to something more. You made the Queen leave us alone, because she couldn’t rise against your home fiefdom without insulting your liege. That offended the hell out of her, and once you weren’t standing between her and us anymore, she stopped backing down.”
That was news to me. “She was going to move against you?”
“She almost did, until the Winterrose stopped her, in your name. Evening never approved of us, but she protected us anyway, and she did it for you. Did Sylvester try that hard to keep your memory alive?” He paused, expression challenging. I looked away. There were no words that could say what I needed to say to him; I wasn’t even willing to try.
There was a long pause, and when he continued, he sounded almost impossibly tired. When did the world get so old? “At first she was doing it for you, but I like to think that maybe, toward the end, she was doing it for herself. That she finally understood why we were here.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No,” he said, “you didn’t want to know. You pigeonholed her the way you’ve pigeonholed everybody else, and you ignored her when she tried to step out of the role you’d given her. You’ve done that for as long as I’ve known you, Toby, and I think I’ve known you longer than just about anyone else in this world.”
“I didn’t think—”
“That’s not much of a surprise.” He stopped and took a deep breath before flashing me a smile that managed to show all of his teeth at once. “But enough about you—let’s talk about me. Did you come here to sleep with me?”
I forced a smile, back on familiar ground. I could ignore the way his words stung until the job was over. “Sorry, Devin. Not this time.”
“Afraid that you can’t walk away from me twice?”
