Page 57 of The Innocent Sleep

I struggled to keep my breath level, trying to keep panic from overwhelming me. This was all going wrong. This was all going so wrong, and—

The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my miserable contemplation of the situation, and I sat up straight, opening my eyes. There was no way to see who was approaching, but still, I clambered to my feet, straightening my clothing, and turned to the cell door, waiting to see what would happen next. After another minute or so, the door opened, and Garm was pushed roughly inside by a large Bridge Troll whom I had seen among the guard.

“Brought you a friend, cat,” rumbled the troll, voice muffled by the wall, before the door slammed shut. I heard the door to Ginevra’s cell open a beat later, and the exchange repeated itself.

“Grianne?” I asked.

Garm nodded.

“My apologies to you both. It wasn’t my intention that you should be captured, or implicated in any sort of scheme against the duchy.”

“You weren’t scheming against the duchy, though, and you’d know that, Tavis, if you listened.” He raised his voice on the back half of his statement, not quite shouting, but definitely projecting for the benefit of an unseen audience. This done, he sagged, looking suddenly very small and very frightened. “What happened?”

“The Duke’s brother recognized me as Cait Sidhe, and decided we must have been conspiring in some way,” I said. “My being overly concerned for October, who has been sent out of the duchy on an errand for Duchess Zhou, didn’t help.”

“Of course it didn’t. Baron Torquill doesn’t like it when people take an interest in his children, especially her. He’s protective of August, but she’s a Firstborn’s daughter who will always have her mother’s protection. Everyone knows October was born out of obligation. Amandine doesn’t care about her the way she cares about August. So Simon has to care for both of them.”

“I said nothing improper. I crossed no lines.”

“You didn’t have to.” Garm looked at me with near-desperation. “For Baron Torquill, just saying her name while hiding something, however small and inconsequential, would be seen as sufficient proof that you were plotting something improper. He’s not the most trusting of men.”

“Clearly not.”

“Did you not know him well enough in your reality to know that?”

“I know him quite well. We were children together, he and I and Sylvester and September and Amandine. He escorted my wife to the altar at our wedding, and he’s both ruined and transformed my life on various occasions. He’s been a good man and a bad man, but he’s never been inclined to trust quickly, or trust the word of any other above those he loves. I didn’t mean to speak so vehemently. I was just . . . surprised.”

“Well, now we get to be surprised together.” Garm crossed the cell to drop onto the low bunk attached to the wall, making himself as comfortable as he reasonably could. Then he waved his hand, and the illusion of a well-appointed lounge swept across the room, coating surfaces in layers of plush fabric and softening the walls. I looked at him curiously. He shrugged.

“We’re captives either way. May as well be captives in comfort. Unless your resistance to illusions means this isn’t helpful?”

“I know the padding is an illusion, and if I try, I can see through it, but since seeing through it serves nothing but to make me more uncomfortable, why should I bother?” I sat on one of the cushions he had provided. “I can enjoy the comforts of a lie without believing it to be a truth.”

“Self-serving.”

“Cat,” I said, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did. After a moment to consider, I suited form to fact, shifting into feline shape and stretching.

Garm watched, clearly amazed. “You’ve never done that in front of me before,” he said.

What a strange new world, where a simple shapeshifter could be a wonder in Faerie, when we had always been among the most common things of all! I turned a circle on the cushion, pushing at it with my paws, then curled up, tail over my nose, and closed my eyes.

Sleeping when things are stressful is a very feline response, and I freely admit that. But I would no longer be a cat if I lost the knack for it, and as long as I was confined here without access to the Shadow Roads, I couldn’t do much else to help. I might as well keep myself in condition to run if I received the opportunity.

I don’t know how long I dozed before the door opened again, faster this time—so fast that it swung all the way inward and slammed against the wall. I raised my head, blinking blearily, as Garm jerked upright from where he’d been dozing on the bunk.

There in the doorway, looking like he was on the brink of losing his composure entirely, was Simon Torquill. His face was pinched and pale, his lips tight, and he was trembling. August was close behind him, her body half-blocked from view by his, and looked as if she’d been crying. I sprang to my feet, transforming as I did.

“Where’s October?” I demanded. “What’s happened?”

“Why do you care so much?” Simon countered, coming fully into the cell. August followed him, and was inside when he closed the door, leaning back against it so that his weight would keep it from swinging open. It was clear that neither of them understood how afraid of me they should be, or how dangerous an uncontrolled Cait Sidhe could quickly become.

I forced myself to calm, pulling back the more bestial aspects of my appearance. When I spoke again, my teeth were blunter, less obviously designed to rend and tear.

“I know this will make no sense to you at all, but your daughter is very dear to me, and I’m worried for her safety.”

“But why?” asked Simon.

Was there any way out of this situation—or out of this cell—without explaining the truth? If there was, I couldn’t see it. So I stood up a little straighter, looked Simon dead in the eye, and said, “Because none of this is real.”