Page 72 of The Innocent Sleep

My little fish is very dear, and quite clever, but she has never been good at understanding the emotions of others—myself especially. She thought I hated her for years, long past the point where animosity had faded into affection. She was already upset. I didn’t want to make matters worse.

I walked until I reached the far side of the room and stopped there, leaning against the wall, shadow falling halfway over my face. It was tempting to allow myself to tumble into it, slipping away and leaving them to their discussion. I was tired of talking. I wanted us to act.

October seemed to feel the same. She argued with August, shying away from the other woman when she reached out, until August finally grabbed October in a tight embrace, shouting, “They’re not taking my sister away from me!” so loudly that I heard every word.

Ginevra raised her hands, clearly trying to placate August. The argument continued, August not letting go of October, and I stayed where I was, away from this drama whose only relation to me was its replacement of the family I knew and loved.

Simon said something. August looked at him, silently pleading, before slowly, reluctantly, letting go of October and stepping away. Ginevra stepped forward, and appeared to be speaking to them. I wished I could hear what she was saying, even as I understood, perfectly, that I needed to keep my distance. I didn’t have the self-control to be any closer.

Their voices were a pleasant, distant blend of sounds, until two words in October’s voice broke through the rest: “. . . Cait Sidhe?”

There are many things I could ignore. That wasn’t among them.

Ginevra looked momentarily surprised, then answered, her own voice softer and less gripping to my ear.

Then, with utter, brutal clarity, October said, “I don’t. I mean, I’ve never met a Cait Sidhe before. But I saw something, recently, that made me think you might be one.”

Fury welled up in my gut. Titania had erased not just my marriage, but my entire species, in an effort to leave October without the allies she needed. I couldn’t be angry at October for what had been done to her, nor at anyone else in this room, even August—her self-interested upset was almost comforting, in a way, as it meant that October had never been alone, despite what Titania had tried to do. Let her break people down to their essentials, they would still find ways to come together and to comfort one another. That was a consolation.

Not enough of one. The fury was still building up inside me, making it difficult to catch my breath. I spun around and punched the wall which, true, had never done anything to me, but also wouldn’t complain at the assault. The pain was centering. It made it easier for me to get myself back under control, pulling my anger and dismay down into my gut and turning once more to observe the group.

I didn’t want to overhear anything else they might have to say. I tried to focus on looking rather than listening, observing the way they stood, the way they interacted with each other. Simon was hovering uneasily behind his daughters, allowing them to approach the problem in their own way, but not removing his protection. August, on the other hand, was staying aggressively close to October, ready to fight anyone who got too close.

Grianne was just observing. Garm, interestingly enough, looked ready to join in with August on the fighting. He’d never been particularly close to October in our world, yet it appeared he would be happy to protect her here. Interesting.

There was so much about this world I didn’t, and couldn’t, know, so many things buried in a history I didn’t have the time to learn. I punched the wall again, this time out of frustration with myself as much as anything else. From across the room, Ginevra shot me a quelling glance. She clearly wanted me to calm myself.

I was doing my best. I really didn’t see what more she could ask. I was staying away so that she could talk to the woman I loved without the risk of my clear distress interfering; I was punching the wall, not shredding the tapestries or turning into a cat and hiding under the nearest piece of furniture. Really, by any reasonable standard, I was behaving myself fantastically well.

Ginevra said something to October, who went pale and stared at her blankly for a moment before shaking it off and draping herself in a veil of resignation. So she knew. At long last, she knew the world wasn’t real.

What was she going to do from here?

TWENTY

THE CONVERSATION CONTINUED AFTER that, August defensive, October resigned, Ginevra trying to thread the impossible needle of telling the truth without antagonizing the people who desperately wanted her to be lying. It was a masterwork of diplomacy, even when viewed purely through pantomime, and I couldn’t help but be impressed. She was going to be an incredible Queen someday, when she took a throne of her own and held it. She was going to be among the best of us.

She had been a gift from my lady to the Court of Cats, because none of us would ever have thought to go hunting a hope chest to allow Ginevra this opportunity to thrive. Really, all of Faerie was better when we came together, when we didn’t split ourselves with artificial boundaries and pretend that we weren’t meant to be connected.

October extended her hand toward Ginevra, and I thought, for a moment, that she was reaching for her, ready to take hold and connect.

Then Ginevra unsheathed her claws.

October yelped, the sound high and pained and electric, going straight to the base of my spine and burning there. The smell of blood came immediately after, covering the distance between us in a matter of seconds, bright and red and underscored with the ever-present trace of grass. I snarled, breaking into an immediate run. The distance between us was nothing. Even without the shadows, it was nothing.

I wasn’t sure what I was intending to do. I wasn’t intending anything. This was pure animal instinct, all my fear and frustration boiling up at the threat to my mate’s safety.

Fear carried me across the room to Ginevra. Fear raised my hand, and slammed it into her cheek, knocking her back. She yelped, then hissed at me, eyes narrowing in clear challenge. I grabbed her throat with one hand and her hair with the other, jerking her head back and preventing her from getting away. Blood welled up from the scratches on her cheek as she reached up with both hands, trying to pry my hand from her throat.

No. I was still King. I was still King, and she had drawn my wife’s blood intentionally and without asking my consent before she did it. The challenge to my authority couldn’t stand. It couldn’t be allowed, no matter how good her reasons may have been. It couldn’t.

Garm and Grianne were staring at me. I suppose being able to identify one of the Cait Sidhe, and spending time with us in our guise as civilized members of Faerie, didn’t prepare them for the reality of us. Simon and August looked horrified. August, especially, looked as if she couldn’t decide between throwing herself at me in her sister’s defense or running away as fast as her legs could carry her.

Either response would have been valid, really.

“Stop it!” shouted October, sounding so perfectly like herself that I turned to stare at her, my hold on Ginevra’s throat briefly loosening. She was glaring at me, incandescent in her outrage, furiously angry and more beautiful than she had been since our wedding day.

For a moment, she looked like my little fish, and I wanted to go to her and take her in my arms and never let her go. Then the moment passed, and she was a stranger with a familiar face, glaring at me like she wished to do me harm. I felt my own face harden, years of practiced self-protection sliding back into play.