Page 87 of Be the Serpent

“That’s splitting hairs and you know it.”

He looked at me, unblinkingly calm. “I learned from the best.”

I paused. He was right, and this wasn’t the time, and it wasn’t like Quentin refusing to listen to me when he thought I was making the wrong call was anything new. I’d never gone out of my way to inculcate unthinking obedience in him; I honestly wouldn’t know where to start.

“All right,” I said. “But the next time we’re going up against one of the Three, I need you to go the fuck home the second you think that might be what I want you to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think this is ever going to happen again?”

“One, Titania’s still out there.” I held up a finger, paused, and added a second. “Two, this has happened to us twice now, which is twice more than I ever expected. There’s one Queen missing. At our current rate, we should run into her before the end of the year.”

“I don’t like that,” said Quentin, paling. “Isn’t two enough?”

“I would have said one was enough,” I said.

“And I would have said none was more than sufficient,” said Tybalt, sliding his arm around my waist. “Could we please, please, have a season without some life-altering revelation throwing everything into disarray?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “No promises.”

He sighed. “There never are.”

He still looked distressed, but given how long he’d spent treating me like I was made of glass after the last time he’d been supernaturally compelled to attack me, I was willing to take a little distress. And that was another thing that shouldn’t really have happened twice. There are plenty of people in Faerie who can reach into someone’s mind and twist it around to suit their own ends. We have whole descendant lines who specialize in exactly that: Sirens can turn anyone into their one true love with a song, while Gean-Cannah prey on a similar, if somewhat baser, set of instincts. I couldn’t blame him for being used against me. But wow, could he blame himself. He was remarkably good at that sort of thing.

I dropped back to the flats of my feet and reached up to touch his cheek, just above the spot I’d kissed. “Let me go talk to Arden,” I said. “Can I ask you to stay here with the Browns, or would that be too much right now?”

“As I’m afraid of harming you gravely if I force you to remain in my presence, it would be barely enough,” he said. “The Lady of Flowers shouldn’t have been able to sink her hooks into me, not when I descend from Malvic’s line. Yet she couldn’t touch Simon, who is most distinctly hers. How was that possible?”

“I don’t know.” There was a lot that didn’t make sense where the Three were concerned. I sighed and looked at him levelly. “If Oberon’s out there, maybe he’ll be in the mood to answer a few questions.”

“That would be a change,” said Quentin.

“Eavesdropping is rude,” I said.

“You’re having this conversation out in the open, at a normal volume,” he said. “If this is eavesdropping, I think we’ve changed the definition.”

I turned to scowl at him, then glanced back as I realized Tybalt was laughing.

Not loudly. Not a lot. But laughing. I blinked at him. He shook his head, still laughing.

“There was a time when the appearance of any one of the Three would have been a monumental occasion, marked with awe and reverence and silent contemplation,” he said. “Now, not an hour’s time has passed, and you’re already pecking at each other like a pair of ducks battling over the last passel of peas.”

“If that’s an old-timey saying, I’m really glad we have better ones now,” I said, and smiled before walking over to Mitch and the kids. He and the younger three were still huddled together; Cassandra was on her feet and folded into Walther’s arms, her head resting against his shoulder. She lifted it as I approached, meeting my eyes. I paused, taking a half-step back.

Her eyes, which had always been a neutral, unremarkable blue, were bleeding toward a vivid amber-gold that looked nothing like the clear honey of the Torquills, or even like the vivid topaz sported by some members of the Court of Cats. Walther looked at me and grimaced, just a little.

“I have a theory,” he said.

“Nothing makes sense and everything is wrong?” I suggested.

“Well, yes, that, too,” he said. “But I believe Titania’s presence was enough to extend a sliver of the illusion she herself lived under to her children, keeping them from being visibly divergent from what people expected to see. She looked like Stacy Brown, and so her children looked like they belonged to Stacy Brown, at least mostly.”

“No one ever could explain the ears,” said Cassandra. “Lynx tufts, not common among the Barrow Wights or the Nixen.”

“I like your ears,” Walther said.

“Wasn’t looking for reassurance, but I’m still glad to hear that,” said Cassandra. She leaned back against him like he was a wall, grimacing. “With Mom . . . gone, and Titania not needing to hide herself, or us, any longer, there’s a good chance we’re all going to start looking a little different. Nothing radical. No one’s going to grow extra limbs or wings or anything. But we’re not going to be as similar to each other as we have been up until this point. Think of it as watching a bunch of ducklings finally molt and grow their adult plumage.”

“Right,” I said faintly. This just kept getting stranger, and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. A little awkward, I added, “Do you think you can keep an eye on your dad for a few minutes? I need to go talk to the Queen.”