Page 93 of The Innocent Sleep

She extended her hand, palm toward the ceiling and fingers curled loosely toward her palm, save for her index finger, which pointed at the far wall. “I know one of the things you’re worried about, and I’m worried about it too, and if we’re going to get out of here, you need to not be worried,” she said. “Prick my finger.”

I jerked away from her, eyes going wide as I fully processed her request. Then, understanding that the first thing she’d asked of me upon recovering her memory was not a kiss but an assault, I glared at her. “I will not hurt you.”

“I’m not asking you to hurt me, just to draw blood,” she said, stubbornly. “I could bite my own cheek, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I’ve had other people’s blood in my mouth and I haven’t brushed my teeth. So please, prick my finger.”

If I didn’t do as she asked, she had a dozen ways to make herself bleed. I knew it, and she knew I knew. I still didn’t understand why this was so important to her, but my claws were the safest option, and so I nodded, grudgingly, before I reached out and tapped the tip of her finger with one claw, breaking the skin. Quickly, she stuck her finger in her mouth. The wound would already be healed by that point, but I wasn’t willing to cut her any deeper.

She closed her eyes for a long, long moment, the scent of her magic rising around her and doing . . . nothing. No spells were cast or unwoven, nothing changed. Until, finally, she opened her eyes and smiled at me, warm and relieved and as loving as she had ever been.

My stomach unclenched. My heart, suddenly released from a fear that had been weighing it down for months, keeping it from ever feeling as if it were free to beat, as if I were ever free to breathe, contracted and let go in a feeling of relief so immense that it was dizzying. I swallowed hard, watching for any sign that I was misinterpreting the look on her face.

“Truly?”

Silent, she nodded.

I raised my hand, resting it beneath her chin, nudging her head ever so slightly higher. Once she was looking me squarely in the eyes, I pulled my hand away, cupping her cheek with my fingers as I ran them softly down the curve of her jaw. She shivered, pressing herself tighter against me.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” I said. “I would never have blamed you. But I would have set myself to destroying her.”

“Here I thought we were going to do that anyway,” she quipped. I smiled at the lightness in her tone, and before she could say anything about how important it was for us to get on with that, I pulled her close once more, lowered my mouth to hers, and kissed her again.

“If you two are finished trying to suck each other’s faces off like a pair of hormonal teenagers, there is the little matter of being locked in an iron-barred dungeon while Titania is preparing to Ride for the Heart,” said the Luidaeg. She didn’t sound amused.

October turned to face her, moving closer to me as she did, leaning back to rest against my chest. I put my hands on her upper arms, holding her where she was, honestly rejoicing in being allowed to touch her at all. The Luidaeg looked at the two of us with the tolerantly annoyed expression of a mother cat finding her kittens engaged in some sort of ill-timed mischief. I wanted to laugh and swing her around, asking whether she’d thought there was any other way this could have gone. If not for October’s pregnancy and the iron in the room, I would already have grabbed her, pulled her onto the shadow roads, and been gone.

“How are we getting out of here?” asked October. “The last time I had to escape from an iron-laced dungeon, I had a Tuatha de Dannan’s blood to borrow. Or, I guess, technically, the last time, a pair of Tuatha came and got me. I’m thinking of the time before that. How did they manage that, anyway?”

“I helped them,” said Simon. He sounded exhausted, like a man broken, and I hoped he would be able to recover from all of this. “We knew you’d been arrested, and had gone to Golden Shore hoping we could claim clemency on your behalf. There is no extradition between the Mists and the Golden Shore. I wanted your freedom more than I wanted my own safety. I was able to brew a draught that helped the Windermeres to overcome their normal issues with distance and break through the dungeon wards. I don’t have access to my equipment, or to the Windermeres.”

“So that’s out,” said October. She tilted her head back so she could look at me. “Tybalt?”

“Much as I would love being your savior in this matter, little fish, I couldn’t carry this many people through the shadows, even were I inclined to make the attempt. The roads degrade when unused, and most of my Court has been unable to access them for months. They are unsafe for passage.”

“Ginevra took me via the Shadow Roads,” said October.

I tried my best to control my reaction. I’m afraid I did a poor job of it. “And we’ll be discussing that, once she has been recovered from wherever she’s being held. She should have known better than to risk you so.”

October turned to the Luidaeg. “I still have the Summer Roads key,” she said, almost pleading. “Could we take one of the old roads?”

“Accessing them with this much iron nearby would be a complicated trick, and not one that I’m sure would play out the way we want it to,” she said. “There are a lot of roads under the heading of ‘old roads.’ We could wind up on the Road of Rust, that was opened for the Gremlins, and die in a place where our bodies would never be found. I have a slightly better idea.” She gestured toward the door. “Does that thing look like it contains any silver to you?”

Sensibly, October hesitated before she answered, “No. Why?”

“Because bound and limited as I am, I remain Firstborn, and I know how the Firstborn die,” said the Luidaeg. She held up her right hand, and her fingernails grew long and wickedly pointed, transforming into talons. “We die by iron and silver. We don’t die by iron alone. Go comfort your father-failure. He thinks he’s lost you all over again.”

The Luidaeg turned away from us, moving toward the cell door with a purposeful stride that dared anyone to get in her way. October looked over her shoulder at me. Loath as I was to allow her out of reach, I took my hands from her arms and nodded my assent. She stepped away from me, and as I felt the sudden aching absence of her, walked toward Simon in the corner where he huddled.

There was nothing I could do to ease that conversation, which seemed as likely to be confrontation as reunion, now that they both knew the truth about what had been done to them, and what they had done during their time under Titania’s spell. I couldn’t help them.

Maybe I could help someone else. I turned and followed the Luidaeg’s path to the cell door.

She had turned her hands to wicked-looking talons, and had already inserted her first claw into the lock when I arrived, working it back and forth as she tried to trigger the internal mechanisms. Wisps of smoke were starting to rise from the keyhole as the metal scorched her.

“I am sorry this falls to you,” I said, solemnly. “It seems you are forever drawn into the chaos we create.”

“Not like I was ever going to have a peaceful life, and your chaos has its good sides,” she said, still working at the lock. “Never forget that you and that walking degree in chaos theory you call a wife are the reason I have my descendant line back. They’re not my children, but their children will be my grandchildren, and my great-grandchildren, and that woman who calls herself my sister will never touch them again. People talk to me now. Not always with the awe and deference I deserve, but still. They talk to me when they don’t want something. I have no idea where my stepmother put Poppy. I know she has to be okay, because Aes Sidhe are descendants of Maeve, but I don’t know where she is. She’s been a good friend to me. Weird and loud, and a little annoying, but good.” She looked at me, and I could see the strain around her eyes. “You have plenty to apologize for, Child of Malvic. Everyone does. But involving me in this situation is not among those things. I know who I blame for this, and it’s not you.”

“That’s something of a relief.” I glanced across the cell to where October was kneeling next to Simon, talking to him quietly. “He seemed to think their relationship was a strong one, and she showed no reluctance to run to him.”