Page 90 of Be the Serpent

“Okay, like ten percent of your bullshit is forgiven, and since that’s more bullshit than most people will have time to generate in their lives, you should call that a win,” I said. That was enough to protect Tybalt, and Quentin, and the Lordens, and even the assorted Torquills. My family was strange and nebulous, but it was mine, and it mattered. Even Walther would be safe, if me considering someone a member of my family was enough to protect them.

That was a nice thought. “Safe” has been hard to come by, these last few years.

“I will accept it,” said Oberon, solemnly.

“You said ‘bindings,’ plural,” I said. “What else?”

He took a breath, turning his face away from me. “She will not harm Maeve’s descendants,” he said. “Nor will she break down the doors to deeper Faerie, nor will she declare herself and claim control of all you’ve made in our absence.”

“That’s a start, but don’t think this means I’m not pissed as hell at you,” I said. “Because I am, and I’m going to be for a while, but right now, that family you mentioned needs me. Luidaeg, take your father home before I do something I’m really going to regret.”

“Got it,” she said, and moved to take Oberon’s arm. “Come on, Daddy. Let’s go. I’ll explain in excruciating detail what you did wrong on the way.”

He let her turn him around and lead him off, and I had never been more grateful to him for anything, and I had never felt more lost. I turned and walked back to Arden, Tybalt, and the Torquills. All three of them turned to look at me.

“Forgive me if it’s inappropriate to ask this, but did you just raise your voice to Oberon?” asked Simon.

I nodded.

He grinned. “If not for the substantial evidence to the contrary, and the fact that it would be a dire insult to the man who sired you, I would start to suspect that you were my daughter in fact as well as in legality. Good show.”

Sylvester, meanwhile, looked quietly horrified. I focused on him, raising an eyebrow. “Got something to say, Your Grace?”

“Only that in my experience, when a lone knight attempts to bait a dragon, it ends poorly for the knight,” he said.

“Good thing I never manage to fight alone these days, huh?” I turned to Arden. “Okay, here’s the sitch: Titania’s missing. No clue where. Oberon can’t find her, and she remembers who she is. All of that is bad.”

Arden nodded, paling. “Yes. All of that is very bad. I don’t like any of that.”

“That being said, she’s been bound not to harm me or any member of my family, or any claimed descendant of Maeve,” I said. “That doesn’t cover you or Nolan, but she doesn’t have reason to be directly angry with you, so if you just don’t attract her attention, you should be fine.”

“Or we could marry in,” she said. “How does your sister feel about arranged marriage?”

I blinked, then glanced at Simon. He shook his head, grimacing.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to fly,” I said, looking back to Arden. “Sorry.”

“It was a long shot anyway,” she said, sighing. “All right, we’ll lay low. You should probably stay clear for a little while if you can, just so as not to attract her attention.”

“Great, one more knowe I’m banned from,” I said.

“The only one,” said Sylvester. I blinked at him. “You saved my brother’s life. You truly are a hero, October, and if my wife can’t see it, well . . . I’ve made some terrible mistakes. I’ve allowed myself to fail the people who matter most to me.”

Simon stared at him. So did I. For a long moment, none of us said anything. Finally, Sylvester mustered a wan smile.

“Please give Rayseline my love,” he said. “I won’t try to convince her to come home; she belongs with you right now, where she can be happy, and have the space she needs to heal. But she deserves to know I still love her, and if she wants to see me, all she ever has to do is call.”

I swallowed hard as I nodded. Simon was still staring, speechless.

Sylvester turned to him. “I need more time,” he said, and there was something resembling an apology in his tone. He sounded genuinely sorry, if nothing else, like he had finally accepted that he might be at least somewhat in the wrong. “I know how little choice you had in some of the actions you took. I’ve just been reminded of that, in a way I didn’t care for in the least. But you still took them, and I need more time before I can even begin to consider forgiveness. I’m sorry. Our parents would have wanted me to be better. I want me to be better. But I can’t.”

Simon blinked, very slowly, then looked at me.

“Did I die?” he asked, in a polite tone. “Because it seems very much as if I must have died. This cannot possibly be happening.”

“Nope,” I said. “Raising the dead, sort of an unanticipated specialty of mine.” Not that he had actually been dead—I didn’t think. If he had, then I needed to have a serious talk with the Luidaeg about where, exactly, my capacity for healing both myself and others would top out.

Limits are good things to know, and to have, at least right up until the question is “respecting your limits” or “burying a family member.”