Page 64 of The Unkindest Tide

“I’m well aware, and believe me, I wish I felt as comfortable numbing the edges of the world as you do.” Mathias took another swig of cider before swinging his attention around to me. “Ah, the sea witch’s errand girl is here for a visit, with her entourage. Come to issue more veiled threats against anyone who touches your child? Believe me, we got the message. She’s as safe as houses, at least until the deadline gets closer and people grow more desperate. Come back in a few hours if you feel the need to frighten someone.”

“I’m not here about Gillian,” I said, and it was only half a lie. “I’m here because I need to talk to you about Isla Chase.”

“Why not go talk to Isla herself? We’re not friends, no matter what you may have heard about our history. We simply do a better job of tolerating each other than many of our peers.”

He sounded honestly confused. I couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t been involved with the plot that killed her, but . . . I didn’t think so. He had no reason to be that good of an actor.

“Isla’s dead,” I said.

There was a gasp behind me. I turned. René was staring at me, eyes wide, one hand clutching the front of his shirt, like he thought he could keep his heart from leaping straight out of his chest.

“You were friends?” I asked.

“She’s my sister,” he said. He moved quickly then, crossing the room to reach, not me, but the couch where Mathias sat. The other man opened his arms and René fell into them. He wasn’t sobbing; he was shaking, his entire body rocking with the force of his grief.

Mathias looked at me over René’s shoulder. His eyes were cold. “You had best not be playing some sort of joke on us, or I swear, by Maeve’s grace, I don’t care if the sea witch sent you, I’ll have your bones for bangles.”

“And since I’m a changeling, you wouldn’t be violating the Law,” I said. “I know.”

“I would still gut him like the fish his seal-shape so resembles,” said Tybalt. “I would also prefer you not go around reminding people that your government, such as it is, cares so little for your life.”

“You’re cute when you’re murderous,” I said.

“That explains why you think he’s cute all the time,” muttered Quentin.

Mathias barked a laugh that sounded halfway to becoming hysterical. “The Crown Prince of the Westlands is in my living room. He’s in my living room, having opinions about a changeling knight’s love life. Maybe none of this is happening. Maybe we’re still on our way here from Halifax, and when I wake up, we’ll be able to try all this nonsense again, in a slightly less horrifying fashion.”

“Sorry, but this is real,” I said. “And we’d prefer it if you didn’t spread that whole ‘secretly the Crown Prince’ thing around. Quentin’s with me on a blind fosterage. No one’s supposed to know who he is.”

“But you don’t deny it,” said Mathias.

“No, because I said I wasn’t here to lie to you, and this isn’t the time to start.” René was still clinging to him, shaking. I watched the back of his head for a moment. The Selkie clans were all interrelated; they had to be. How else could their human kinfolk marry and raise families of their own? No one who’d grown up purely in the mortal world would be able to understand them, and even with a geas to stop their tongues and keep them from spilling Faerie’s secrets, there would be gaps. Places where the lies were too apparent.

More and more, what we’d come here to do felt wrong. The Luidaeg’s punishment might have been right and just when it began, but that was generations ago, before any of these people were alive, before the Selkies were a thriving, functional part of Faerie. I couldn’t tell her “no.” I couldn’t stop her. But was I going to be able to live with myself once I’d done what she demanded?

I didn’t know.

“I’m sorry to be the one who tells you this. I’m more sorry that it’s happened. But . . .” I stopped, caught myself, and began again. “When the Root and Branch were young, when the Rose still grew unplucked upon the tree; when all our lands were new and green and we danced without care, then, we were immortal. Then, we lived forever.”

René finally made a sound, sorrow and disbelief and shocked horror bound together in a small, tight gasp. He turned, still clinging to Mathias, to face me.

I continued. It was the only thing left for me to do. “We left those lands for the world where time dwells, dancing, that we might see the passage of the sun and the growing of the world. Here we may die, and here we can fall, and here Isla Chase of Belle Fleuve, leader of the Chase clan of Selkies, has stopped her dancing.”

René nodded, closing his eyes and sagging into the couch. Mathias stroked his arm, even as he glared daggers at me. I’d rarely seen a man that openly embracing his hatred while not actively trying to murder me. It was a nice change, even if I didn’t like the circumstances.

“Why are you telling us this?” he demanded. “The sea witch granted us permission to steal from one another, and to be rendered human against your will is the next best thing to being murdered. My clan’s children are hiding in their rooms, crying, because what happens to them if someone comes to hurt their mommies or daddies? One death shouldn’t be enough to summon a hero. Not unless you’re intending to slay our Firstborn.”

“She’s a friend of mine, so no,” I said. I had spent a lot of time cultivating a good relationship with the Luidaeg. Even if some of that time had been accidental, I didn’t want to waste it. There was also the little matter of my having brought her back from the dead once, after her sister Eira had broken into her apartment and attacked her. That sort of thing makes it difficult to commit to slaughter. “I’m here because whoever stole Isla’s skin murdered her. She didn’t fall. She didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered.”

René made a small snuffling sound and pressed his face into Mathias’ shoulder. Mathias, thank Oberon, sat up a little straighter, some of the malice leaving his face, to be replaced by amazement.

“Meaning you’re throwing this upon the judgment of the clans,” he said.

“Yes. The Luidaeg gave you permission to steal from each other. She didn’t supersede or dismiss clan law, and clan law, according to Elizabeth, forbids the unnecessary killing of your human kin. Isla died human.”

“You mean the Lady intended her to live and suffer all the days of her life, knowing what she’d lost,” said Mathias witheringly. “Whoever killed her may have been trying to do her mercy.”

“We’re fae. We don’t do mercy.” I kept my gaze steady, not allowing myself to waver. “I’m a hero of the realm, Mathias Lefebvre. Will you allow me to fulfill my duty, and find the one who killed your . . .” I faltered. “I don’t know the term for ‘you’re both leaders of Selkie clans,’ but that’s what I want to do. Liz has already said I can. There are only four of you left. If two of you give me permission, then I can do whatever needs to be done and not worry about someone saying I’m not allowed to be here.”