Page 45 of Be the Serpent

She was still in her human teenager guise. The electric tape around her left pigtail had come halfway unraveled, hanging down in a thick black curl that made her look vulnerable and so very, very young. Knowing she was older than everyone else in this knowe put together, with the exception of her father and possibly Titania, if she was still here, didn’t change that. Her eyes had changed, however. They were the clear glass green she normally wore only when she was going among the Roane.

Those eyes were fixed on Mitch, studying him as intimately as a doctor would study a patient, mapping every inch of him and not approving of anything they saw.

Tybalt was beside her, his expression grim, his hands folded behind his back. He met my eyes and nodded, very briefly, but didn’t move. He knew where he was supposed to be, and for once, it wasn’t by my side.

“I . . . I would never,” stammered Mitch.

“You would, though, if you thought you could get away with it,” said the Luidaeg. “I’ve claimed her publicly, in front of kings and queens, but you’d still take her, because she’s your child and you love her. You know how to love her. That’s more than my parents ever managed. Love isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes it’s the worst kind of poison. Karen belongs to Karen. Absolutely. She’s also old enough to know what she wants, and what she wants is to understand what she can do, and how it can improve her life rather than making it harder. My children were Seers, every one of them. I don’t See constantly or clearly the way my brother Isengrin did. I still See with unclouded-enough eyes to be of service to your children, and they’re going to need me. Karen was just smart enough to get in on the ground floor before I had to start charging.”

She looked to Andrew and Anthony, expression grim. “If you want to study under me, you’ll be more than welcome, but you’ll pay for your tutelage as your sister has never been expected to. I won’t apologize for that. You’re no kin of mine, sons of Titania, and there’s no one to claim you but our Lady of the Flowers, which she’ll no more do than she will change her ways.”

I blinked. But the questions I had didn’t really belong in this moment. This was a moment for Mitch, the Luidaeg, and the children. The rest of us were onlookers, nothing more.

“Now, you’ve said nothing to actually offend me, and done nothing to actually incur my wrath,” said the Luidaeg. “I think we can both agree to forget you looking at me like I eat the flesh of children, if you’ll agree not to take them away from me.”

“I . . . I won’t take them,” said Mitch.

“I’ll hold you to that.” The Luidaeg turned on her heel and stalked over to Jin. “Ellyllon,” she greeted, briskly. “Ffion would not thank me if I treated with you poorly.”

“Is she alive?” asked Jin, almost analytically. It took me a moment to find the hint of longing under her tone and realize that I was hearing the latest iteration of a question I’d heard a surprising number of times before. It was the way everyone seemed to inquire about their Firstborn when the Luidaeg mentioned them by name. Everyone but the Daoine Sidhe—on the occasions when the Luidaeg had interacted directly with one of them, they either seemed to already know Evening was still around, or wanted to preserve the illusion of not knowing for a little while longer. Anything to keep them from facing the reality of the woman who created them.

To my surprise, for once, the Luidaeg nodded. “When last I heard, yes, she was,” she said. “She’s shed her skin so many times that I wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd, but she always said she didn’t mind that, said it would make it easier for her when the time came for us to fade into the background and let our children have the world. There’s every chance you’ve seen her more recently than I have. There’s also every chance she’s died since the last time I looked. Your magic is bound, little Ellyllon. May I release it?”

“Please,” said Jin, looking deeply relieved by the idea. “I’m not close enough to molt to feel no pain at all, and the pain I do feel is more than I would have chosen for myself. I’ve never been one of those who elects to shed a skin as brutally as possible.”

“Then I suppose you honor Ffion by having a new experience,” said the Luidaeg.

Jin laughed again. I could hear how much weaker she’d grown just since I got to the room. It was probably a good thing that she’d been hurt the most severely, given the way Ellyllon recover; that might even have been the reason why, if she’d jumped in front of a blow that could have been fatal for any of the other people in this room.

The Luidaeg reached out and ran her thumb along Jin’s forehead. The skin opened in a bloodless line behind her hand, like she was unzipping the Ellyllon’s face. Stepping back, the Luidaeg lowered her arm. “Try now,” she said.

Jin took a deep breath, wings buzzing. Then she relaxed, relief flooding her face. “I can touch it,” she said. “I can feel my skin softening. I should be . . . oh. I should be inside the wardrobe.”

Gathering her dignity around herself, as much as a woman who was still holding her guts in with one hand could, she pushed away from the wardrobe, turned, opened it, and stepped inside, closing the door again behind her.

The Luidaeg watched, expression almost fond. Glancing to me, she said, “They don’t like it when people watch them change. I can’t blame them, really. It’s pretty gross. Like cutting open a cocoon before the caterpillar is done being made of goo. I don’t recommend opening that wardrobe before she’s ready to come out.”

Wet ripping sounds were coming from inside, disturbingly meaty. I shuddered and looked to Mitch and Nolan.

“What about them?” I asked.

“What about them?” she echoed, tone only lightly mocking. “I unbound the Ellyllon because she’s the only medic in this place right now, and I need the children looked to. I can unbind the alchemist because technically I still owe him a debt of honor for unmaking my sister’s pretty poison. He can draw on that for decades before we have to negotiate a new price. The little prince and the castoff, though? There’s no way to justify treating them for free.”

“Will our magic come untangled in its own time?” asked Nolan, solemnly.

“Wish I could say yes—really, really wish I could say yes—but no, it won’t,” said the Luidaeg. “This is an old trick, used to punish the members of my generation when we were disobedient or needed to be brought back under control. For someone of your strength, it will settle in your bones and blood, eating and eating until there’s nothing left to swallow, and then you’ll have no more magic than a mortal. Immortality is a magical function. Flesh isn’t meant to last forever.”

“So this is a death sentence.”

“If not reversed, yes.” The Luidaeg looked at him levelly. “You know I can’t lie. What will you pay me to save your life, little prince? Make a fine offer and I’ll consider it.”

“I can’t leave my sister,” he said.

“But you’ll leave her if you die.”

“True enough, I suppose. Would my service suffice?”

The Luidaeg tilted her head. “No. Only your word.”