Page 92 of The Brightest Fell

I am Oberon’s granddaughter, I thought. He made you before he made me. Now do as I say.

The heat intensified. I think I screamed. I couldn’t be sure. Every cell in my body was carbonizing. My blood was a river of lava twisting through my veins, scorching everything it came in contact with. I didn’t feel the hope chest leave my hand, but I heard it hit the floor a split-second before I landed next to it, falling hard to my knees and catching myself with my hands to keep my face from hitting the floor.

It didn’t hurt. My palms had just slammed into the kitchen’s stone floor, and while the impact was jarring, there was none of the pain I would have expected from landing on a slashed-open palm. I opened my eyes. The hope chest was lying on its side. My right hand was covered in blood and my left hand was covered in gauze, but when I lifted my right hand off the floor and turned it over, my palm was unmarred.

I sat up slowly, breathing hard, and unwound the gauze from my left hand. There were no scratches or punctures on my palm and fingers. I flexed my hand. Still no pain. Barely daring to hope, I reached up and felt the slope of my ear. It tapered to a point, not as sharp as Sylvester’s or my mother’s, but so much sharper than it had been. It felt like it was mine again.

I looked up. Sylvester’s sharp intake of breath confirmed my transformation. Grabbing the hope chest—which was only warm now, not burning; I wasn’t asking it for anything, and the humanity I still possessed was mine to keep—I rose, as easily as if I had never been hurt.

“Where’s Tybalt?” I asked.

Arden held out her hands. I surrendered the hope chest to her without protest, but my eyes stayed on Sylvester, waiting for him to answer me.

“He and Jin are in the garden,” he said. “I can take you there. Your Majesty.” He turned to Arden, offering her a shallow bow. “You have my eternal gratitude for what you have done today. This is a service to my house and to my heart, and it will not be soon forgotten.”

“Sir Daye is a hero in the Mists,” said Arden. “I did less than my throne still owes her.” She looked to me. “Go. Save him. I know you can.”

I couldn’t thank her, and so all I did was nod and turn to Sylvester, waiting.

I didn’t have to wait for long. He sheathed his sword and started walking, leaving me to follow. I glanced to the table where May, Jazz, and Quentin were seated. May shook her head. She wasn’t moving. I couldn’t blame her.

“Quentin, stay here,” I called. “If anything happens, find me.”

“Sure, boss,” he said. There was an almost painful relief in his face—not because I was leaving him behind, but because it was starting to seem like this might be almost over. We might actually survive this.

Sylvester’s stride was always long, but now he was hurrying, racing from the kitchen to the hall, forcing me to hustle to keep up with him. We were in our second parlor, crossing the knowe with remarkable speed, when I realized what he was doing. He was trying to keep me from asking questions.

I grabbed his arm. He stumbled, apparently not expecting that, and turned to gape at me.

“What?” I demanded.

He hesitated before saying, “I don’t think this is the time. Tybalt—”

“Would want me to know what you don’t want me to know.”

Sylvester closed his eyes. “It’s not what I don’t want you to know, October,” he said softly. “It’s what I’m afraid to ask.”

“What?”

“My brother.” He opened his eyes again. “Where is my brother?”

Oh, oak and ash. I had been so focused on Jazz and Tybalt that I hadn’t stopped to think of things from Sylvester’s perspective. I had left Shadowed Hills with Simon. I had returned without him. “He’s lost,” I said.

There was a pause before Sylvester asked, “He’s dead?”

“No. He’s lost.” Quickly, I explained what had happened: how the Luidaeg had taken August’s way home for the sake of a candle, how Simon had forced the Luidaeg to transfer August’s debts to him, as her father. How, once his way home was lost, Simon had regressed to the man he’d been under Evening’s control, calculating and cold, willing to do whatever was required to escape.

When I finished, Sylvester looked at me and said, in a soft tone, “This is what I feared. He’s awake now, and free to do whatever he desires. What will keep him from waking his mistress? Before, Amandine’s disapproval was a weapon we could use against him, keeping him from committing even greater transgressions than those he already has. Now, he’s lost.”

“I know,” I said. “I tried to stop him. He was trying to be a hero. He was trying to save his daughter.”

“If only he had been a hero when he decided to endanger mine.” Sylvester started walking again. “When this is done, when your people are restored, it might be best if you stayed away for a time.”

“Sylvester—”

“Etienne can come to you for Quentin’s lessons. I’ve managed to keep Luna from knowing that Simon was awake. It helps that she would rather avoid your company, when she has the option. But she’s going to find out soon enough, and she’s going to be angry. Do you understand how angry she’s going to be? I love you. I can’t choose you over my wife. Not when she has every right to be furious.”

“I understand,” I said, and I did, I truly did. We all had to choose which family came first. Sylvester was my liege lord and my mentor and my sometime father figure, but Luna was his wife and the mother of his child, and if she had reason not to want me around, I would stay away.