Page 34 of The Unkindest Tide

That startled another laugh out of me. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Well, then, we definitely want to catch up with her. The last thing I need today is for one of the Firstborn to see me naked.”

“Indeed.” Tybalt offered his arm, and I took it, letting him guide me down the rickety wooden walkway. I knew the path as well as he did—we’d each walked it exactly once before, in each other’s company—but it made him feel better to take the lead sometimes, and I was willing to let him, for my peace of mind as well as for his. If Tybalt was relaxed, I wasn’t worrying about him. If I wasn’t worrying about him, we could both get more done.

Like worrying about Gillian. When this was over, and she was safe and home and Roane, part of Faerie forevermore, the Luidaeg and I were going to have words about how casually she’d endangered my daughter. I refused to consider any future in which Gillian wasn’t going to wind up safely in her own bed, with Janet trying her best to keep her away from me. Our family was already fractured. This wasn’t the way it would break.

Trailing this far behind the Luidaeg was an interesting experience. It hadn’t been obvious before just how much her presence had shut down the normal activity of the stalls around us. Now that Tybalt and I were on our own, people were appearing from all directions, swarming up and down ladders to get to specific shops, leaning out of windows, bartering for wares. A woman who looked like a more delicate version of a Merrow, all the way down to the long, furling flukes of her silver-scaled tail, rode a wicker basket between levels, clinging to the ropes and laughing to the Tylwyth Teg sailor who worked the pulley. Children scampered past, playing some complicated, old-fashioned game with a hoop and a weighted net.

These people were living entirely outside of the mortal world, in the closest thing I’d ever seen to a full reflection of Faerie. Maybe the deeper realms had been like this, dotted with maritime homesteads and private communities that set their own rules and kept their own tempos. Or maybe this was the social equivalent of a changeling, something created from the necessary meshing of two worlds.

The Luidaeg was waiting for us at the end of the marketplace. Her eyes flicked coolly from Tybalt’s face to mine before she raised a brow and asked, “Trouble in paradise?”

“Is this paradise?” I asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s as close as you’re going to get any time soon,” she said. “Where were you?”

“Can we not do this now?”

She tilted her head, studying me with more care. “You’re unhappy with me,” she said finally.

“I know you can’t read minds, thank Titania, and I know you can’t lie,” I said.

“Again, that’s on Titania,” she said dryly.

I ignored her comment. “What would happen if I wasn’t upset? Maybe my face just looks like this.”

“Which is why I couldn’t say that sort of thing about anyone I didn’t know well,” said the Luidaeg. “You, however, I know very well. I’ve had years of you darkening my doorstep whether I want you to or not. I can tell when you’re unhappy.”

“You put my daughter at risk,” I said.

The Luidaeg nodded solemnly. “That’s true. I did.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because she was going to be put at risk no matter what. What we’re doing here is risky. The destruction of one descendant race to make way for another is something that’s only happened once before, all the way back to the dawn of Faerie. It doesn’t matter that we’re only putting right something that should never have gone wrong. This is going to change the balance of the power in the Undersea. It’s going to change everything. Gillian was going to be at risk, because every Selkie is at risk until this is finished.”

“You could have told them she was off-limits,” I said stubbornly.

The Luidaeg sighed. “I could have, yes,” she agreed. “I could have told them she was your beloved baby girl and wearing the skin of my own daughter, and ordered them to leave her alone. And maybe she would have thanked me and maybe she would have spit at me, but she’d have been safe, for now. Only ‘now’ is a moving target. Tomorrow is coming, and another tomorrow after that, and another after that, until we’re standing a century away, and none of the other Roane will even speak to her out of fear that they’ll hurt her feelings and the sea witch will sweep in to steal their livers.”

I blinked. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“They think of me as a monster, remember? As far as they’re concerned, I’ll do virtually anything. Maybe I’m wrong—I’m not lying when I speculate about what the future might be, as long as I base it off what I know to be true. But honestly, I don’t think I am. These people are going to be her peers for a long, long time, and she’s going to be on even footing with them, because none of them know how to be Roane yet. I needed to not start her off in a position of social isolation.”

“That’s . . .” I paused, shaking my head. “That’s way more carefully thought-out than I expected.”

The Luidaeg shrugged. “I’ve had a long time to learn how to read people.”

The entry to our courtyard was visible up ahead, and I sped up, anticipating the comfort of being back among people I already knew and trusted. Tybalt and the Luidaeg matched my pace. I barely noticed. Quentin was probably going to be pissed that we’d gone off without him. It was for the best—having him there wouldn’t have made things go any more smoothly—but I could still appreciate his reasons for annoyance. Best to get this over with. Maybe he’d been able to spend a little quality time with Dean, and would go easy on me. Maybe—

We came around the edge of the courtyard and stopped, staring at the scene that was unfolding inside. The people we’d left behind were grouped at the center of the space. They had been joined by two newcomers. One, a tall man with burnished bronze hair covered in a thin patina of verdigris, was standing, holding hands with Poppy and staring at her, mouth slightly ajar, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. The other, a tawny-skinned woman with straight black hair, was aiming a punch directly at Dean’s throat.

Dean dodged the blow with surprising speed, laughing, and swung back, aiming his own fist for the side of the woman’s face. She grabbed his arm and twisted, performing a complicated pivot with her lower body that somehow resulted in Dean being flung over her shoulder. He slammed into the deck, landing on his back. He laughed harder. So did she, turning to offer a hand up.

I smiled. It was difficult not to. Both of the newcomers were dressed in the vaguely ahistorical, vaguely maritime style that dominated the Duchy of Ships; whether or not they’d ever been here before, they fit right in. They were clearly at ease in a way they’d never been when they’d come to visit us on the land. This was their home. This was where they belonged.

Quentin looked over and saw us, waving somewhat laconically. So he was annoyed, but willing to swallow it for the sake of his boyfriend’s parents. Good to know. “The delegation from Saltmist has arrived,” he called. “In case you missed it while you were running off and leaving me behind.”

Okay, maybe not so much with the swallowing it. “I see that,” I said. “Is Dianda actually trying to kill her eldest son, or is this how Merrow say hello?”