Page 16 of A Divided Duty

“Honestly, no,” he said, with a small grimace. “Helmi would prefer Pat and I not get underfoot when she’s trying to feed the girls. We just get them excited, thinking we’re going to take them to their mother, and they can’t go to their mother every time they see us. It doesn’t work. Dianda has business to conduct, patrols to lead, and court to hold. She spends as much time with them as she can, but sometimes we have to leave matters to their nursemaid.”

“This is normal for the noble houses,” said Tybalt, voice low—he was speaking purely for my benefit. “If the mother has duties to perform, it is expected that a nursemaid or childminder will care for the babies until she’s able to return.”

“I did actually know that, sweetheart,” I said. “Nannies still exist in the mortal world.” May filled something of that role in our household, although it wasn’t nearly as organized as it would have been for the nobility. I rose from my chair, yielding it to Simon, who sat and promptly reached for his brother’s hands.

“I’m going to go ahead and give the two of you some privacy,” I said. “Simon, you should be able to get home the same way you got here, when you’re done with your visit. Sylvester, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I didn’t mean to—”

“You caused no trouble at all today, my dearest,” he said. “If anything, you forced me to see and acknowledge the trouble that was already going on, and I should have seen a long time ago. I don’t want to lose my daughter over this. I refuse to lose my daughter over this.”

“Good,” I said. I paused to smile at Simon. “We should catch up before you go back to Shadowed Hills.”

“I would like that,” he said, and returned his attention to Sylvester as, side by side, Tybalt and I left the room.

It was no real surprise to find Etienne waiting for us in the hall outside the study, Chelsea by his side. He turned to give us an earnest look.

“Is all well with our liege?” he asked.

“No. But you know that. All hasn’t been well with our liege for quite some time.” I glanced back at the closed door. “I’m hopeful that maybe this can be the beginning of things getting better around here.”

“That would be … amazing,” said Etienne, wearily. “I love my liege and I love the duchy to which I am sworn, but things have been difficult for a very long time now.”

“Yeah,” agreed Chelsea.

I shot her a wry smile. “You say that like you were there.”

“I know everyone I talk to tells me my dad is the sort of guy who’d rather dance naked in a grocery store than break the rules, and he went out and had an affair with exactly the sort of mortal you’re not supposed to have affairs with, then didn’t stick around to find out whether or not she’d gotten pregnant in the process,” said Chelsea. “I exist because he was under too much stress to do things the right way. I’m pretty down with existing, don’t get me wrong, but … that doesn’t say ‘healthy workplace environment’ to me.”

“I should tell you not to speak ill of my liege, but I can’t,” said Etienne. “I’m exhausted trying to keep things on an even keel here. I was exhausted even before Titania broke our fragile peace in two. Luna is … She is not well. She doesn’t know how to exist here without the sheltering veil of her Kitsune skin, and we have no means of getting her another, not without a dying Kitsune willing to sacrifice their claim on going to the night-haunts.”

“Keiko hasn’t been seen in centuries,” said Tybalt. He was talking about Keiko Inari, the Nine-Tailed One, Kitsune Firstborn. “She may or may not be among the living. The best argument against it is that she never came here to punish Luna for what she’d done. Hirsent would never have tolerated such an insult to one of her own, and the Following Fire was far less invested in her children than Keiko.”

“Hirsent was the Firstborn of the Reynard, yes?” asked Chelsea, haltingly. Poor kid was probably getting the same “Firstborn and their descendant lines” flashcards from Etienne that I got from Amandine, and with a lot less time to get the answers right.

“Yes,” said Tybalt. “She was last seen in the early 1800s, in a kingdom called Armorica. She was a very angry woman, was Hirsent. She didn’t forgive her parents for leaving her, or the world for moving on without the Firstborn. I honestly don’t know whether her disappearance was due to death or imprisonment or just deciding to take a little nap somewhere that she wouldn’t be disturbed. Even after all this time, the ways of the Firstborn are inscrutable.”

“I don’t know. I think the ones I’ve met have been pretty scrutable,” said Chelsea.

Etienne looked pained. “It hurts me that you can refer to the Firstborn you’ve met without reverence or fear.”

“And that’s why they all disappeared,” I said. “We were getting too comfortable around them. It’s easy to stop being afraid of a monster you see every day. The Luidaeg complains a lot about how none of us have any respect for her.”

“The Luidaeg is the godmother to your younger daughter,” said Etienne.

“Like you would have said no if she’d made you the same offer? Miranda is never going to have to fear the sea.”

“No, she won’t,” said Tybalt.

Etienne looked past us to the study door. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I took a deep breath. “Raysel isn’t ready to come back to Shadowed Hills,” I said. “She still has a lot of recovering to do, and she’s still trying to figure herself out. She doesn’t want to be around people who keep putting expectations on her that keep changing. She feels like she can never live up to them if she’s here. So she wants to stay with us, at least for the four months she still owes, and maybe even longer. She needs the space to keep getting better.”

“The Duchess is determined that her daughter will return,” said Etienne. “She hasn’t forgiven you for taking Rayseline away, and she hasn’t forgiven Rayseline for leaving. I don’t know that she ever will.”

“And that’s exactly why Raysel can’t come back here,” I said, firmly. “She needs space and patience and time, not to be punished because she made the decision that was best for her. She’s blossoming, Etienne. She’s smart and funny and wants so badly to be a good person. She wants to be the sort of person that other people turn to when they’re in pain. She can’t do that here. She can’t finish healing in Shadowed Hills.”

“I didn’t say I agreed with my duchess,” said Etienne, somewhat stiffly. “I understand that you and Chelsea both speak well of Rayseline, but I saw her at her very worst. I saw her when they dragged her through the doors half-feral, senses skewed by shock and confusion. She didn’t remember ever having seen the sun, or a fire, or tasting food that was fresh and untainted by decay. What was done to her … it was cruelty beyond all measure, and I don’t fault her for having been unmade by it. I don’t condone her crimes, either. I’ve been trying to restore this Duchy to functionality. Rayseline won’t make that any easier. She’ll only make it worse.”

“So you’re happy having her stay away?”