Page 55 of Sleep No More

“October, I forbid it,” said Father, voice wavering.

I turned to blink at him, feeling something brave and hot and a little bit horrible swell inside my chest as I prepared to do something I’d never done before, not once: as I prepared to defy my father. “Why?” I asked. “Why are you not willing to let me help these people, when you know they can’t unbind me unless August is both capable of it and agrees to do so, when they want my help so much that they’re not going to hurt me, when they need my help? Why won’t you let me be useful when I actually can be? Why would you tell me no?”

“Your mother will not approve,” he said.

“My mother isn’t here. My mother isn’t going to approve of anything that’s happened since she’s been away, and since when she gets home she’ll find out that I’ve become a fugitive from the Mists, I think she’s going to be so busy being furious at me for making her look bad that she won’t have time to get pissed off about me running around helping some Cait Sidhe find their friend.” I scowled at him. “I didn’t ask for all of this to happen. If you want to blame someone, blame Uncle Sylvester for asking me to go to Dreamer’s Glass in the first place.”

“Or blame me, for asking October to come to Shadowed Hills so we could pick through the party leftovers,” said August.

“But don’t punish these people by refusing to let me help them, if they really think I’m the only one who can do it.” It was a strange feeling, being needed for something when August was right there. I thought it might be pride. I looked back to Ginevra. “You said Tybalt wouldn’t be coming with us if I did this. That implies we’d be going somewhere. Where would we be going?”

“The key unlocks a series of very old roads that can sometimes verge on the edge of deeper Faerie,” said Ginevra. “Using it requires opening a door. We expect you’ll be able to access the Thorn Road that way, since you’ve done it before. It’s one of the kinder of the old paths. Not very pretty, and you have to be wary of the briars, but if you can get there, it considers the toll already paid.”

“I’ve never heard of this,” said Father.

“You wouldn’t have,” said Ginevra. “It was opened for the use of the children of Maeve, when they needed to flee from their brighter brethren. Part of the history of my Faerie,” she added, seeing the baffled looks on our faces. “I’m sure Titania has rewritten events in this world to show her in a better light. But where I come from, the children of Maeve needed to hide sometimes, and the Thorn Road was one of the ways they did it.”

“And you think I’ve been there before?” I asked.

“The October I know has absolutely been there before,” she said. “I don’t think even Titania can change the memories of an object, since they’re more about sympathy and resonance than actual recall.” She looked at the key, seeming suddenly concerned. “If she has, maybe this was all for nothing.”

“Maybe I can try to do that spell-seeing thing you were talking about, and check?” offered August.

I blinked at her. She shrugged.

“We don’t know if I can do the same thing you can. Maybe this is a way to find out.”

“If you want to try,” I said.

“I do.” August reached for the abandoned steak knife at Tybalt’s place, shooting Father a quelling look. He didn’t say anything or move to stop her.

With a quick, easy grace that clearly came from years of practice, August sliced the tip of her finger and brought it to her mouth. I tensed. If her blood, like mine, showed her memories of this other world, I had no idea what she was going to see.

But her training had been so much more extensive than my own, in that she’d received actual lessons in controlling her blood magic, and she must have shunted the memories away before they could begin, focusing on the key.

“Close your eyes,” I suggested. “Just close your eyes and try to see the key anyway.”

August closed her eyes. Her eyebrows furrowed, coming together as she tried to focus. Finally, she sighed and opened her eyes again, hand already healed as she lowered it to the table. “I didn’t see anything,” she said. “Maybe you’re right, and this isn’t something I can do.”

“Maybe it just takes more practice? But I can still try to open this door,” I said to Ginevra. “I said I’d try your key, and I will. But only if Tybalt doesn’t come with us. I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

“I’ll go too,” said August.

“No,” said Father, more wearily this time. “I’m sorry, but no. I refuse to go home and tell your mother I’ve misplaced both of our daughters, should something go wrong in this . . . this ridiculous undertaking. I wish I could prevent your sister from joining in the foolishness, but she’s correct when she says she didn’t set any of this in motion, and she’s of age.”

“She lives in your household,” said August. “Her being of age shouldn’t matter.”

I wanted to ask her whose side she was on there, but Father looked like he was on the verge of tears; interrupting wasn’t going to help.

“She no longer lives in the tower,” he said.

August paled. “What? You’re throwing her out because she isn’t doing what you want?”

“He’s not,” I said, as I stood with my salmon still half-eaten, delicious as it was. “August, we’ve already been over this. I can’t go back to the Mists. They’ll execute me. If I’m an exile, I don’t live in the tower anymore. I live wherever the King and Queen on the Golden Shore decide I do.”

She visibly wilted, sinking into her chair with a soft sigh. “Oh,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“October, please be safe,” said Father, turning back to me. “Garm and Grianne can accompany you. My brother owes me that much, for setting all this in motion.”