Page 99 of The Innocent Sleep

Most of them were unfamiliar. A few faces were notable because they were absent—I didn’t see the false Queen, or the pretend Eira. They were good enough to fill roles in her puppet-play, it seemed, but not good enough to Ride with her company. That was actually a good thing, because it meant that whoever she had enchanted into playing those roles wasn’t someone she fully trusted. We might be able to get them back when this was over.

The company moved and shifted behind her, people falling back and others taking their place, never settling or still. It was hard to tell if it was accidental or by design when a familiar figure appeared in their midst, cheeks flushing red as she turned her face away to avoid looking at us. It was too late; we had already seen her.

October stared. August made a small, dismayed sound, deep in her throat. And October spoke.

“Mom?”

August gasped when October spoke, as if my beloved’s voice had broken some invisible shell around her. “Mother!” Her voice was filled with confusion and despair. She ran forward, showing more energy than I had thought she had left in her as she flung herself toward the company. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know what she’s intending to do? We can’t be a part of this! Mother, say you understand!”

“I do, sweet girl,” said Amandine, turning to look at August, and in that moment, I knew without question that she had never been ensnared by Titania’s deception: she had been a willing participant from the beginning. “I’m helping to guarantee a world where we can both be happy, and together, always. She’s promised me you won’t remember this when it’s all over. No one’s going to remember this except for your worthless sister, and she’s not going to be able to speak of it, to anyone.”

I had already hated her for what she’d done to me, and to the people I cared about. I had already seen her as entirely beyond forgiving.

That was the moment I knew I was going to kill her.

October frowned, taking a half-step forward. “We’re here for your sacrifice, Titania. It’s over.”

Titania smiled, poisonously sweet. “Yes, you’re here to bring my sacrifice,” she said. “I appreciate it greatly, because it’s not over. It’s never over before I say it is.”

She snapped her fingers.

Vines burst from the ground, wrapping around our legs and holding us in place. Reflexively, I tried to transform and jump free, and found that I couldn’t; I was stuck in my current form. All I could do was glare. Even August, still reaching for her mother, was suddenly tied down, staring at Amandine in betrayal and confusion. Amandine sighed, reaching out to run her fingertips down August’s cheek.

“Dear child,” she said. “I would destroy Faerie to have you home again. Fortunately, I don’t have to. Thanks to the Summer Queen, I can save it, instead.”

October’s frown deepened. “Are you the sacrifice?”

Amandine looked at her with utter disdain. “Child, no,” she said. “My lady decided, in her glory and her wisdom, that whoever rode today should do so with nothing they could lose in this world. Someone it would hurt you to lose. I suggested the cat, but she refused; said it might taint the sacrifice.”

I struggled against the vines again, trying to move closer to October. They held me in place, and all I could do was begin to growl at her, my voice rising and falling as it resonated through my chest. October reached behind her, taking my hand and holding on tightly.

Amandine ignored all this. “Nor would I harm my sweetest girl,” she said, touching August’s cheek again. August tried to shy away. Amandine didn’t seem to notice. “You were such a good child before you fell in with poor company,” she said. “That won’t happen again. We’re making a perfect world. No more cats. No more cowards. No more changelings.”

October stiffened. “You can’t,” she said.

“But child.” Amandine turned and looked at her, eyes wide, expression innocently beatific as a child’s. “I already have.”

The illusion that had been itching at the edges of my vision burst, taking Titania and her company with it. Amandine was alone.

I didn’t hear the horses anymore.

Horses are never truly silent. At their size, even their breathing is audible, and a fully tacked-out horse will jingle and creak unless it’s standing unnaturally still. I looked behind me.

The riding ring was empty, horses gone.

So was Simon.

TWENTY-SIX

OCTOBER FROZE, STARING, BEFORE she said, in a voice no louder than a sigh: “Luidaeg. You said she couldn’t hurt my family. You promised me.”

“I also said that the Heart might give Titania a loophole where that binding was concerned,” said the Luidaeg, sorrowfully. “Now that you’re no longer under her spell, can you honestly say you still consider him family?”

October caught her breath. “I can. I can.”

She whirled to face Amandine, vines tearing at her skin. “You give him back! He’s my father, and you have no right to touch him!”

“I haven’t laid a finger on him, nor will I, but I have every right,” she said, voice like a dagger sliding between her own daughter’s ribs. “He was my husband. What he isn’t—and never has been—is your father. He wasn’t your father when this began, and he won’t be your father as he dies.”