Page 75 of The Innocent Sleep

“But you’ll waste it with twenty words where two would do,” she said. Her mood was uncharacteristically negative, and I blinked at her, trying to figure out where this was coming from.

“I apologize,” I said. “I talk when I’m anxious.”

“Why are you here, Tybalt?” asked January. “I know you’ve got to be worried about October—I would be, if I were you—and can’t imagine you’d rather be here than wherever she is right now.”

“Golden Shore,” I said.

“That explains why you’re in a hurry to get back there. What did you need?”

“Arden told us that you had been released from the enchantment which grips most of our world,” I said. “That you remembered things as I do.”

“Yes,” said January. “October was able to break the threads around me. That makes what, three times she’s saved me? I swear, if she counted debts the way the sea witch does, I’d never be out of hers.”

“Thankfully, my lady has rather more leeway when it comes to matters of mercy,” I said. I took a deep breath, then. “August is . . . concerned . . . that if she assists October in her own release, October will forget everything she knows of the enchanted world, and fall entirely back into our own.”

“And those two have always been thick as thieves, unhappy as that makes Amy, so I’m guessing she’s afraid of losing her sister,” said January.

I nodded.

“I remember it all.” January stood straighter, eyes locked on mine. “I remember staying in Briarholme as Silences turned more and hostile to outsiders, and wishing I could go anywhere else. I remember growing up there, alone, isolated from any sort of court or community that might have comforted me. I remember the night my father went out and didn’t come back, and the notice that told me he’d stopped his dancing. I remember years in empty halls, and wondering how long I could stand it before I shattered under the weight of all that silence. And I remember my uncle Simon and his daughters, who came to visit sometimes, when his liege allowed him the grace to travel. He said family was important, and so he came to me, and he offered me what comfort he could in the spaces where the silence wasn’t. But it’s all a little distant, like a book I lost myself in for a while, except for the last four months or so.”

“Those are the ones that were actually lived,” I said.

January nodded. “I was figuring something like that. It’s like building an MMO. You know lots of stuff had to happen for the world to exist, but you only flesh out the parts the players will actually encounter. Titania gave us a believable scaffold, and then we spent four months climbing it.”

“Forgive me if this is rude,” blurted Li Qin. “But who are you?”

I blinked. “I beg your forgiveness, Duchess Zhou. I’m so used to you knowing me that I never considered the need for introductions. I am Tybalt, King of Dreaming Cats, husband to October, and about as frustrated by this whole situation as you appear to be.”

“Remembering an entirely different version of reality than your spouse does turn out to be somewhat unnerving,” she said. “Although in your case, at least you remember that you have a spouse. I’m still trying to adjust to the fact that I am apparently happily married to and co-parenting an adopted child with a complete stranger.”

“We’ll find a way to fix this, Li,” said January.

“I hope so, because if we don’t, I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.”

It was odd, seeing them so tense with each other, so far from the domestic harmony they normally displayed. Their lack of shared experience had to be feeding into that, and it made my heart ache from the familiarity of it all, the desperate little glances January kept giving to her wife, as if she couldn’t understand the gulf between them, the tension in Li Qin, who clearly wanted this to be real, but couldn’t quite accept it yet. And even as strained as they were, it was nothing compared to the gulf between myself and October. Hopefully, we’d be able to bridge it soon. Hopefully, I could handle things with as much grace as January was managing to display.

I bowed to the both of them, deep and sincere. “You have my gratitude, and my hope that knowing the memory of this world is not lost will enable me to convince August to agree to let us awaken her sister and help end this for all of us.”

“I hope so too,” said January. “This can’t go on.”

“No,” I agreed. “It can’t.” And with that, I stepped into shadow, running back toward the dubious comforts of the Golden Shore. I didn’t aim for the throne room, where the rest of my party was assembled. It hadn’t been long enough for them to come to any sort of resolution, and I wasn’t sure I could take another round of frustration and denial. Instead, I aimed for the promenade where we had first arrived, intending to both put myself someplace visible and catch my breath for a moment.

I’ve never been a fan of running to and fro, dealing with large groups of people. I much prefer the company of the people I consider my own, where I don’t have to worry as much about subtle lines of etiquette and offense. It seemed I wasn’t alone in that, as when I stepped out of the shadows onto the promenade, I surprised the Windermeres. They were standing near the rail, Arden resting against Nolan’s side, his arm protectively around her shoulders.

I had observed them together before, but only ever in a world where she was called upon to be a queen and he was a man out of time, isolated from the people around him by decades spent in an enchanted sleep. They were normally reserved, even with each other, friendly but very aware of their positions and their personal dignity. Here, now, they were both relaxed, leaning on each other for the support they so clearly needed.

Not for the first time, I thought they might be some of the only people to have been well served by this twisted mirror of my Faerie. They could be happy here, if they didn’t know any differently. Arden had never been defined by her title, nor Nolan by his position in her Court. It almost hurt, to know that we would be taking this away from them.

Not enough to stay my hand or shift my course, but still, I was aware that not everyone’s situation was as straightforward as my own. Nolan lifted his head and turned to squint in my direction.

“You can come out,” he said. “I know you’re there.”

I stepped into the open, leaving the shadows behind, and offered him a shallow bow. He looked at me mildly, neither pleased nor displeased by my arrival.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked.

“I just went to Dreamer’s Glass to ask January whether she retained her memories of this world in addition to her restored memories of the true one,” I said. “It seemed important, if I were going to reassure August that we didn’t seek to take her sister away from her.”