The Winter Long
Page 80
“I don’t think you understand what you’ve done.” The Luidaeg pulled out a chair and sat down at the other side of the table, looking at me gravely. “It’s been a long time since anyone in Faerie raised the dead. It isn’t something we do often, or that should ever be done lightly.”
“Technically this was my second time,” I said. “Alex Olsen was dead too.”
“That was your little Gean-Cannah?” she asked. I nodded. “That was different. He was a living man sharing a body with a dead woman. I was a dead woman sharing my body with no one. Bringing me back was a larger step than you could have known, or you might not have done it. Please, don’t get me wrong,” she held up her hand, palm turned toward me, “I’m grateful. I’d rather be alive than dead, and I have a great deal left to do. But you’ve tampered with the order of things. Keep that in mind, and don’t let this become a habit.”
I scowled at her. “How about you don’t let dying become a habit, and I won’t need to bring you back again?”
“Fair enough,” said the Luidaeg. “About my sister. She’s harder to kill than anyone you’ve ever dealt with. It’s part of her nature. She seems to die, and then she comes back stronger, like a weed.”
“Well, right now, that weed is taking root at Shadowed Hills, and I need to know how willingly her descendants will follow her orders, and how much control she has over people who aren’t descended from her,” I said grimly. “Sylvester didn’t bat an eye when she showed up and said that she wasn’t dead and needed him to let her in. Dean Lorden was more resistant. He’s also only half Daoine Sidhe. But a lot of the other people at Shadowed Hills who aren’t Daoine Sidhe seemed perfectly willing to let her tell them what to do.”
“My sister can control almost anyone if she puts her mind to it. As for Sylvester’s people, she’s playing on their fealty,” said the Luidaeg. “They’re sworn to Sylvester, Sylvester is of her line; all she has to do to control them is control him. Didn’t you ever wonder why the Daoine Sidhe aspire to power the way they do? No other line holds so many thrones, or wants to wear so many crowns. The Daoine Sidhe would rule the world if they could, and all for the sake of that beautiful spider at the center of their web.”
I frowned. “She told them to seek power?”
“Yes. Said ‘if you love me, rule the world,’ and then she walked away, leaving her descendants hungry for her love the way she had hungered for the love of her mother. I doubt many of them would remember her face—most of her children died young, in the questing for kingdoms to rule, and their children didn’t live much longer. Your Sylvester’s father was her grandson. She was already gone by the time he was born.” The Luidaeg’s expression hardened. “Some people should never have been parents.”
“So she can control Sylvester because he’s her descendant, and she can control the people who are sworn to him through their fealty,” I said slowly. “Can she control me?”
“If you allowed her to, yes, but it would have to be your choice,” said the Luidaeg. “You’re too aware of her now. She’d have to work harder to have you, and if there’s one thing she can’t abide, it’s hard work.” She paused, appearing to finally realize that our little duo should have been at least a trio. Fear crept into her voice as she asked, “Toby, where’s Quentin?”
“I left him in the Court of Cats,” I said. “Even Evening is going to have trouble getting to him there. You would have seen him if you’d stuck around after you woke up.”
“My Court was sealed to my kind by Oberon himself, and none among the Daoine Sidhe holds fealty over any of the Cait Sidhe. He will be safe,” said Tybalt.
“He’ll be safe until she finds a Cait Sidhe of Erda’s line. Don’t discount the part Titania played in the making of your kind. My sister has the most control over her own descendants, but anyone she shares blood with is vulnerable, to a degree,” said the Luidaeg. Tybalt looked uncomfortable. She turned her attention to me. “You know my sister wants your squire.”
“I do,” I said grimly. Quentin was the Crown Prince of an entire continent. There was no way someone as interested in power as Evening apparently was could ignore the potential of a game piece like my squire. “But let’s get back to figuring out her limits. What about Dean? Or Etienne? Shouldn’t she have been able to control them?”
“Again, that would be harder for her,” said the Luidaeg. “Etienne is descended purely from Oberon, which makes him more resistant to my sister’s charms. If he felt he had something more important to defend, he’d be able to avoid her snares, at least for a time. As for Dean, he’s only half Daoine Sidhe, and his fealty is sworn to the Mists, which means Queen Windermere. She’s Tuatha de Dannan, like Etienne, so my sister has no openings there. Before that, he would have been sworn to his mother.”
“Who’s Merrow,” I said thoughtfully. “Got it. Blood makes him hers, but fealty doesn’t, and we’re back to hard work again. She’d have to want him enough to take him.”
“Exactly,” said the Luidaeg. “It’s much better if she can push her hard work off on someone else. She probably didn’t feel like she needed to make the effort for a half-breed son of a Merrow and a man who willingly gave up the chance at ever holding a position of his own. She’s always been . . . focused . . . when she truly wanted something.”
I looked at the Luidaeg, and then at the warm, homey kitchen around us, with the pot of chowder still bubbling on the stove. I’d never seen her look so domestic. It had to have come from somewhere. I hesitated, the question burning on my lips. She met my eyes and nodded marginally, giving me permission to ask what I needed to know.
“You told me once that one of your sisters betrayed you,” I said slowly. “That she was the one who put the knives into the hands of the people who would become the Selkies.”
“Yes, I said that,” said the Luidaeg.
“Was it Evening?”
Silence followed my question. That wash of black danced across the Luidaeg’s eyes again, crossing them so quickly that it was almost like she was blinking an eyelid made of nothing but darkness. Then, finally, she nodded.
“Technically this was my second time,” I said. “Alex Olsen was dead too.”
“That was your little Gean-Cannah?” she asked. I nodded. “That was different. He was a living man sharing a body with a dead woman. I was a dead woman sharing my body with no one. Bringing me back was a larger step than you could have known, or you might not have done it. Please, don’t get me wrong,” she held up her hand, palm turned toward me, “I’m grateful. I’d rather be alive than dead, and I have a great deal left to do. But you’ve tampered with the order of things. Keep that in mind, and don’t let this become a habit.”
I scowled at her. “How about you don’t let dying become a habit, and I won’t need to bring you back again?”
“Fair enough,” said the Luidaeg. “About my sister. She’s harder to kill than anyone you’ve ever dealt with. It’s part of her nature. She seems to die, and then she comes back stronger, like a weed.”
“Well, right now, that weed is taking root at Shadowed Hills, and I need to know how willingly her descendants will follow her orders, and how much control she has over people who aren’t descended from her,” I said grimly. “Sylvester didn’t bat an eye when she showed up and said that she wasn’t dead and needed him to let her in. Dean Lorden was more resistant. He’s also only half Daoine Sidhe. But a lot of the other people at Shadowed Hills who aren’t Daoine Sidhe seemed perfectly willing to let her tell them what to do.”
“My sister can control almost anyone if she puts her mind to it. As for Sylvester’s people, she’s playing on their fealty,” said the Luidaeg. “They’re sworn to Sylvester, Sylvester is of her line; all she has to do to control them is control him. Didn’t you ever wonder why the Daoine Sidhe aspire to power the way they do? No other line holds so many thrones, or wants to wear so many crowns. The Daoine Sidhe would rule the world if they could, and all for the sake of that beautiful spider at the center of their web.”
I frowned. “She told them to seek power?”
“Yes. Said ‘if you love me, rule the world,’ and then she walked away, leaving her descendants hungry for her love the way she had hungered for the love of her mother. I doubt many of them would remember her face—most of her children died young, in the questing for kingdoms to rule, and their children didn’t live much longer. Your Sylvester’s father was her grandson. She was already gone by the time he was born.” The Luidaeg’s expression hardened. “Some people should never have been parents.”
“So she can control Sylvester because he’s her descendant, and she can control the people who are sworn to him through their fealty,” I said slowly. “Can she control me?”
“If you allowed her to, yes, but it would have to be your choice,” said the Luidaeg. “You’re too aware of her now. She’d have to work harder to have you, and if there’s one thing she can’t abide, it’s hard work.” She paused, appearing to finally realize that our little duo should have been at least a trio. Fear crept into her voice as she asked, “Toby, where’s Quentin?”
“I left him in the Court of Cats,” I said. “Even Evening is going to have trouble getting to him there. You would have seen him if you’d stuck around after you woke up.”
“My Court was sealed to my kind by Oberon himself, and none among the Daoine Sidhe holds fealty over any of the Cait Sidhe. He will be safe,” said Tybalt.
“He’ll be safe until she finds a Cait Sidhe of Erda’s line. Don’t discount the part Titania played in the making of your kind. My sister has the most control over her own descendants, but anyone she shares blood with is vulnerable, to a degree,” said the Luidaeg. Tybalt looked uncomfortable. She turned her attention to me. “You know my sister wants your squire.”
“I do,” I said grimly. Quentin was the Crown Prince of an entire continent. There was no way someone as interested in power as Evening apparently was could ignore the potential of a game piece like my squire. “But let’s get back to figuring out her limits. What about Dean? Or Etienne? Shouldn’t she have been able to control them?”
“Again, that would be harder for her,” said the Luidaeg. “Etienne is descended purely from Oberon, which makes him more resistant to my sister’s charms. If he felt he had something more important to defend, he’d be able to avoid her snares, at least for a time. As for Dean, he’s only half Daoine Sidhe, and his fealty is sworn to the Mists, which means Queen Windermere. She’s Tuatha de Dannan, like Etienne, so my sister has no openings there. Before that, he would have been sworn to his mother.”
“Who’s Merrow,” I said thoughtfully. “Got it. Blood makes him hers, but fealty doesn’t, and we’re back to hard work again. She’d have to want him enough to take him.”
“Exactly,” said the Luidaeg. “It’s much better if she can push her hard work off on someone else. She probably didn’t feel like she needed to make the effort for a half-breed son of a Merrow and a man who willingly gave up the chance at ever holding a position of his own. She’s always been . . . focused . . . when she truly wanted something.”
I looked at the Luidaeg, and then at the warm, homey kitchen around us, with the pot of chowder still bubbling on the stove. I’d never seen her look so domestic. It had to have come from somewhere. I hesitated, the question burning on my lips. She met my eyes and nodded marginally, giving me permission to ask what I needed to know.
“You told me once that one of your sisters betrayed you,” I said slowly. “That she was the one who put the knives into the hands of the people who would become the Selkies.”
“Yes, I said that,” said the Luidaeg.
“Was it Evening?”
Silence followed my question. That wash of black danced across the Luidaeg’s eyes again, crossing them so quickly that it was almost like she was blinking an eyelid made of nothing but darkness. Then, finally, she nodded.
