Page 10 of Once Broken Faith

The Luidaeg sighed. “Much as I hate my sister—and trust me, no one hates my sister like I do—she’s still Firstborn. Elf-shot was her gift to our father, to curry favor with him when she was out of his good graces. I applaud unmaking it. I think this is a good thing. But that doesn’t mean I can sit by while the work of one of the First is unmade, and not at least come for the sake of witnessing the process. I won’t speak on her behalf. I won’t try to suppress this cure. I’m still going to come, and watch, and see.”

The Luidaeg was the eldest among the Firstborn. Almost everyone I’d ever met was afraid of her, and with good reason: she was terrifying when she wanted to be. Having her at the conclave would make a lot of people very uncomfortable. That alone would make the proceedings more entertaining, at least for me. But if the Luidaeg was planning to show up . . .

“Should we be worried about other Firstborn deciding they need to come sit in the audience?”

She was quiet for a moment before she said, “Acacia might. She’s been getting out more, and I know that some of Blind Michael’s Riders have been elf-shot and locked away by people who didn’t see any other means of protecting their children. She could come just to see if she’ll be able to free the last of her husband’s victims. Your mother isn’t likely to show up, if that’s what you’re worried about. Amandine never considered herself Firstborn, and she doesn’t care enough about the work of her elder siblings.”

“I don’t know if I’m worried about seeing Mom so much as I just really, really don’t want to.”

“If she does decide to come, that’ll give me the opportunity to drag her away by the ear and ask what the fuck she thinks she’s doing. It’ll be okay, Toby. This isn’t an army marching on the Mists. This isn’t a case you have to solve. It’s just a bunch of nobles coming to puff their chests out at each other and try to look important. Do what I do. Bring popcorn.”

I smiled. Maybe it was weird to be reassured by the words of a woman who could remember the rise and fall of almost every mortal civilization, but my life has never been particularly normal. “Okay,” I said. “See you there.”

“Yup,” she said, and hung up.

I lowered my phone, looking at it thoughtfully for a moment before I stood. The kids probably didn’t want my company, but May might, and there were Rice Krispie treats. It was time to focus on the ordinary, for as long as the world allowed.

FOUR

BY SEVEN IN THE MORNING all the kids except for Quentin and Raj had been collected by their guardians. They slunk home with sugar-glazed expressions and doggie bags of leftovers. Etienne was going to learn a lot about nacho cheese over the course of the next day or so. I sort of wished I could be there for that. Quentin and Raj, meanwhile, had retreated to Quentin’s room for an actual slumber party, meaning they were actually going to sleep. Raj’s tendency to sleep in feline form meant they could both fit in a single bed, which was nice. One trip to the Mattress Outlet with the family had been enough to hold me for a decade—or until the mattresses needed replacing, whichever came first.

Please let it be the decade.

I turned out the last of the lights and drew the last of the curtains before retreating to my room. The house was blissfully quiet. The air smelled like fresh-baked cookies, a combination of burnt sugar and chocolate that would linger for hours yet. Jazz had gone to bed shortly after one o’clock in the morning, pleading the fact that she was diurnal. May had gone to join her at dawn.

Now it was my turn. I shut my bedroom door and started toward the bed, unbuttoning my jeans as I walked. It was rare for me to be the only person awake in the house. I reveled in the feeling.

The smell of pennyroyal and musk cut through the scent of cookies, telling me that I wasn’t alone after all. That was all the warning I got before Tybalt’s hands grasped my waist, turning me to face him. I saw him smile, and then he was pulling me close and kissing me so fiercely that it was like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. It had only been hours, but I wasn’t complaining. I slid my hands up his chest and linked them behind his neck, not hesitating as I kissed him back. A purr reverberated through his body, vibrating my skin and reinforcing the feeling that this, just this, was proof that I was finally home.

If someone had told me right after I stumbled out of the pond that I’d eventually fall in love again, I might have believed them. After all, the heart is a hardy organ: it heals, it moves on. If that same someone had added “with the asshole King of Cats,” I would have laughed until I threw up, and then probably started punching people. Tybalt wasn’t my friend back then, much less a potential lover. He was a bastard and a bully who took too much joy in tormenting me for me to even consider the possibility that one day I’d start keeping company with him.

It’s funny what time can do. Bit by bit, I’d come to realize that Tybalt’s barbs were less about cruelty and more about keeping me at arm’s length, where I couldn’t hurt him—something I’d never imagined I could do until I was doing it. We’d traded a few kisses almost accidentally, and then, with no real fanfare or warning, we’d been in love. Me, the changeling street rat, and him, the handsome Cait Sidhe monarch. Maybe it shouldn’t have worked, but it did, and it had become one of the rocks I put my trust in. The sun rose; the tide turned; Tybalt loved me.

He slid his hands down to cup my ass, pulling my feet off the floor. I responded by kicking my feet up and wrapping my legs around his waist, making it easier for him to carry me to the bed. There was an aggravated yowl as one of the cats protested. I didn’t look to see which one it was. I was distracted by Tybalt’s hand in my hair and Tybalt’s lips on my throat, and then I didn’t pay attention to anything but him for a little while. Who could blame me?

One major advantage to living in the Victorian, rather than my old two-bedroom apartment: much thicker walls, and much less chance of someone wandering in to see what all the fuss was about.

Afterward, naked and sweaty and pleasantly loose in that way that followed strenuous exercise, I stretched and rested my head against Tybalt’s chest, closing my eyes. He was purring again. I couldn’t think of a more comforting sound.

“I take it you missed me, little fish,” he said, playing his fingers through my tangled hair.

“Excuse me?” I rolled over, opening my eyes and squinting at him. “Who jumped who here? I ask not because I’m complaining, but because I think it’s important we keep the sequence of events as clear as possible.”

He chuckled. “Ah, but you see, had you not missed me, you wouldn’t have responded so ardently to what could have been merely a simple hello. I kiss you quite often. Most of the time, you’re capable of kissing me back without dislodging your undergarments in the process.”

“You waited until I was taking my pants off!”

“An accident of timing.” He waved a hand, dismissing my protest. “There’s no need to be ashamed. Were I fortunate enough to be engaged to me, I would take every opportunity to get me to bed.”

“You are such a cat sometimes.” I yawned, snuggling down and closing my eyes again. “Did you have a good night at Court?”

“I did. Nothing of much interest happened, which is always the ideal; better a night where my people are free to make their own entertainment than a night where I must race from place to place, extinguishing fires and praying we’ll live to see the morning. Alazne is finally able to hold her human form for more than an hour at a time. Opal and Gabriel are very proud, and hope you’ll be able to come and visit soon.”

“I’d like that.”

“And you? Was your night a welter of teenage vexations and not enough quiet? I saw the kitchen when I first got home. The fridge appears to have been attacked by wild beasts.”

I couldn’t suppress the thrill that went through me when Tybalt referred to reaching the house as getting home. Eyes still closed, I said, “Oh, the kids were great. They showed Dean The Little Mermaid. I’m expecting Dianda to call it a declaration of war and slaughter us all in our sleep. Arden came by, dragged me back to Muir Woods, and used me to get Walther to go ahead and wake Madden up before the High King got here. Only just before—he’s in the Mists now, he’s holding a conclave next week to discuss how they’re going to distribute the elf-shot cure, and—oh yeah, right—I’m expected to attend. Are you going to be there? I know it’s going to involve the neighboring Kings and Queens, but I’m not sure what involvement the Cait Sidhe would have with something like this.”