Page 72 of Sleep No More

Blind Michael’s hall was as dismal and dire as his bonfire ring when viewed from the outside, a crumbling stone edifice that seemed held together by creeping vines and cobwebs. The torches lit themselves as Acacia led us through the gate and into the great hall, which was filled with shadows that twisted and flickered when I looked at them. The motion made my head spin, so I stopped looking and leaned on Ginevra as Acacia led us farther onward, into a smaller dining hall.

Twinned fireplaces took up most of one wall, flames already burning high inside, and a long table had been set up, loaded with all the pieces of a proper feast. Roasts, trays of buttered greens, baskets of rolls, and platters of delicate sides warred for space. I turned to blink at Acacia.

She shrugged. “The hall knows what’s needed,” she said. “You should eat.”

My stomach rolled, as if suddenly reminded that all the blood I’d shed had to come from somewhere, and I collapsed into the nearest open chair, beginning to fill a plate even as Dean and Raysel fell on the meal like wild beasts, not bothering with plates or cutlery.

The Luidaeg gave us all an indulgent look, walking over to lay Anthony gently down in front of the fire. She took a moment to straighten his limbs and brush his hair away from his eyes, letting her fingertips linger against his skin.

“Will he be all right?” asked Acacia.

“I don’t know,” said the Luidaeg. “Everyone else just has the wrong set of memories for their actual self. He had a whole new self, and I don’t know how deep or detailed that was. I want to think he’s just in shock, and I know that because of the binding, she won’t have done anything she knew would hurt him—but I don’t have any experience with a personality revision of this scope. Did he seem like himself, these past few months?”

“A little standoffish, a little kinder than usual—it was almost like he was remembering what it had been like in the days when we courted, before Luna ran away,” said Acacia. “Now, I can attribute that in part to the fact that neither of us remembered Luna running away, but at the time, it was just my husband. I was still sure I had done something to upset him, somehow.”

“Why?”

“Because he wouldn’t touch me. Not once in the last four months, not even a kiss. At the time, it hurt my feelings. I thought he was falling out of love. Now, of course, I can only be relieved.” Acacia sighed. “I wish I could say I don’t believe my own mother would do this to me, but then, she cast me from her care when I fell in love with a son of Maeve, and would not have me back even when that love turned sour and broken between us.”

“Excuse me.” Raysel pushed between Grianne and Ginevra to face Acacia, half a loaf of bread in one hand. “You’re . . . you’re Acacia, aren’t you? The Mother of the Trees? Blind Michael’s wife?”

“Yes,” said Acacia, with bewildered politeness.

“You’re the Firstborn of the Dryads, and of the Blodynbryd.”

“Yes.” The bewilderment was deepening toward puzzlement.

“I . . . My name is Rayseline? Rayseline Torquill? Your youngest daughter, Luna . . . she’s my mother?” Raysel swallowed, hard. “My parents aren’t divorced, even though I chose Daoine Sidhe when Toby offered to rebalance my blood to something that wasn’t trying to destroy itself. I think you’re my grandmother?”

“I am, child,” said Acacia, sudden softness chasing away her confusion. “I’ve seen you at the fire’s edge, these past few months, but I’m afraid that in my bewitchment, I took little notice. How did you come to be here?”

“The spell, same as everyone else,” she said.

“You two get acquainted,” said the Luidaeg. “I’m going to go and check on Toby.”

“Yes. The little hero.” Acacia frowned, stealing a glance over at me. “If I’m not much mistaken, she goes as green as grass.”

“I think you’re right about that, but she doesn’t know, so we’re not going to make it a thing,” said the Luidaeg. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move on.” She turned, then, and walked over to join me and Dean at the table, taking a seat next to Grianne.

“This is nice,” she said. “Sort of like a picnic in the human conception of Hell. Maybe next we can braid each other’s hair or, I don’t know, get the hell out of here, figure out who my wicked stepmother is planning to murder, break her nasty-ass spell, and fix the world.”

“Am I going to have to do it one person at a time?” I asked. “Because I’m exhausted and my head is killing me after four. I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

“Wow, a Toby who acknowledges her limitations, Titania really did pull out all the stops on this one,” said the Luidaeg. She picked up a roll, buttering it with small, fierce strokes of a knife. “But you’re right, you can’t keep doing this. Your sister might be able to help, if we can sell her on the idea. She’s a stubborn one, so I don’t know if we can count on it, but it would be worth trying.”

“August’s not going to help you,” I said.

She looked at me, one eyebrow raised. “No? And why not?”

“Because she believes the people who keep telling us that our lives are a lie,” I said.

“Continue.”

“August’s pretty smart, for someone who’s never been encouraged to be smart. She pays attention. She doesn’t rush in. And when a bunch of people show up with the same ridiculous story and evidence to support it, she listens. Which is why she’s not going to help you.”

“Explain,” said the Luidaeg.

“You’re telling me our world has only existed for four months. That everything before that is a lie Titania told for her own benefit.” I paused, long enough for the Luidaeg to nod. “Yeah, well, we believed the lie. Completely. And the last four months? Those weren’t a lie. Those were our life. August is my best friend. I love her. I was born to be her companion. She loves me. And unmaking this spell means taking me away from her.” I shrugged. “She doesn’t particularly want that to happen. To be quite honest, I don’t want it to happen either.”