Page 55 of The Innocent Sleep

“My hair?” I looked back to Simon, summoning every ounce of haughty disdain I could find. I had quite a bit. “My hair is reason to pull me in here and interrogate me in front of your daughter and the man who has shown me nothing but charity and kindness? Your Grace, I sincerely hope you will not take this as reason to have me expelled from your home. I am still trying to find—”

“The longer I’ve spent with you, the more time I’ve had to puzzle my way through the fascinating mystery of your lineage,” said Simon. “I was very young when the purges were conducted, but my father recognized a gift for blood magic in me, and I was already keeping company with Amandine, who was going to need someone by her side who could help her sniff out things that should have been uprooted, in case they survived in changelings and in servant’s halls. You’re Cait Sidhe, the both of you.”

August stiffened, standing up as straight as she could as she turned to stare at me with bewilderment and awe.

Sylvester merely sank deeper into his chair.

“That makes everything make sense,” said Simon. “The loyalty of a Candela, once given, is absolute, but they don’t share. Ask them a direct question, get an honest answer. Leave the question unasked, and they’ll never volunteer anything they don’t have to. Shadows and secrets, that’s their game. And once upon a time, they shared the Shadow Roads with the Cait Sidhe. They have loyalty to your kind. Sir Grianne was clearly called upon to observe that bond.”

“I didn’t know about it until she told me,” I said. “Which was only this past evening. I had no idea I was calling on some ancient obligation.”

“So you admit what you are?” demanded Simon.

“I am a child of Faerie, chosen by Oberon to stand aside and observe, that the Courts may not collapse in on themselves from the weight of all the ritual and tradition they collect, like a child filling their pockets with pretty stones until they burst. Malvic was claimed a son of Oberon, as well beloved as any other, and Erda a daughter of Titania.” It seemed wise not to invoke Jibvel in this moment, when things were already tense.

“The Cait Sidhe were exterminated years ago,” said August, sounding horrified.

“Murdered, more like,” muttered Sylvester, looking at his hands, and I had a sudden horrible flash of understanding as to what the nature of heroism had become under Titania’s control. Heroes existed to right wrongs, overthrow wicked monarchs, and slay monsters. With Titania declaring everything to be correct as it was, and every crown rightly given, all that they had left were the monsters.

And the monsters had become anyone she said they were.

I knew, looking at Sylvester, that the man in front of me hadn’t actually broken the Law, hadn’t really put any Cait Sidhe to the sword. And yet he believed with all his heart that he had. No wonder he spent his nights sitting alone in a dark room and failed at every courtship he’d supposedly attempted; no wonder he drank too much and did the barest minimum to keep his duchy running while he allowed his household to manage itself.

He was carrying more guilt than I could understand, and Titania had put it all upon his shoulders for no good reason I could see. Simon got to have a charmed life with the family he’d once wanted above all others, even if he couldn’t remember the family who truly loved and adored him, and Sylvester got . . . this.

“Can we agree on ‘slain’?” asked Simon. “I’d rather not argue semantics all night. Not with my youngest daughter in someone else’s charge.”

My head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“I proposed ‘slain’ as a viable compromise.”

“No. The other part.”

“Duchess Zhou of Dreamer’s Glass requested a member of my family attend on her to assist with a small matter,” said Sylvester. “As neither Simon nor I was available, October volunteered.”

“And you let her?”

“It’s almost Moving Day. Custom says she can move freely until the stroke of midnight on Samhain.”

“Why do you care so much?” asked August.

I glanced to her. “Come again?”

“You’ve never met my sister. You’ve never met either of us. So why do you care where October does or doesn’t go?” She frowned, deeply, not taking her eyes off me. I had the sudden feeling that I knew who the most dangerous Torquill in the room was, and it wasn’t either of the ones I would have expected. “She offered, and she went. She wanted to see more than just the tower. She’s a grownup. She’s allowed.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or to convince yourself?” I asked.

August scoffed.

I switched my attention back to Simon. “Your younger daughter is a changeling. This is well known throughout the fiefdom. Forgive me for being surprised that you’d let her leave so easily.”

“Young things desire freedom. It’s in their nature,” he said. “If October wants to have a flash of adventure before she returns to the everyday pattern of her life, that’s her concern, not anyone else’s.”

“I still can’t believe you’d let her go,” I said.

“I still can’t believe you’re this calm about being found out,” said Simon. “How many of your kind escaped? Have you been spying on proper fae this whole time, preparing some sort of revenge? Did Maeve put you up to this?”

“Don’t be tiresome,” I said. “And we’re calm because we can leave any time we like. You’ve learned nothing. You’ve found a fairy tale to chase, and may it keep you well occupied until your child comes home.” And may your child come home, I added, silently. If something happened to October . . .