Page 23 of A Divided Duty

“I would never,” said the Luidaeg. “They were Selkies. Selkies were always a means to an end, and Margie and Connor both performed their part in the bargain faithfully to the end.”

“I—You know, Luidaeg, I hate it when you talk about the Selkies like they were somehow disposable. Or like they’re gone. There are still Selkies out there.”

“For now,” she said, dismissively. “They existed because I needed to keep the door open for the Roane long enough for someone like you to come into being. You did what I needed you to do, you brought back my descendant line, and that was what mattered. If she’d destroyed a skin, I would be a lot angrier, and she’d look a lot more like an anglerfish.”

Raysel somehow managed to pale even further, until she looked like she was on the verge of passing out.

I dug a fresh tank top out of the drawer. “Stop terrifying Rayseline,” I said. “It’s not nice.”

“I’m not nice,” said the Luidaeg, but turned her attention to Miranda, leaning closer to my daughter’s peaceful face and cooing, “I’m the sea witch, yes I am, and I’m not supposed to be nice, am I, little stormling? No, I am not. I’m what lurks in the dark, I’m what comes with the tide, and I am not nice.” She leaned back again, flashing me a toothy smile. “I’ll stop terrifying Rayseline when she stops being so much fun to terrify.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling the tank top on and tugging it into place. “Naturally,” I said. “You just here to see Miranda?”

“As far as I know right now, yes,” said the Luidaeg. “A woman’s allowed to see her goddaughter, especially when that goddaughter’s mother refuses to bring her for a visit. Plus May said she was baking a cake.”

“You know I appreciate you not pushing the issue on coming over, don’t you?”

The Luidaeg nodded. “I do.”

She wasn’t the only one who lived in her shabby little apartment that might or might not technically exist. Her father lived there with her. Oberon, King of All Faerie and my maternal grandfather. He’d been missing for centuries before I semi-accidentally brought him home and broke the spell that had been keeping him hidden from his children. He’s been living with the Luidaeg ever since … and he’s been entirely useless. He didn’t help us stop Titania, he hasn’t revealed himself to help reel in some of the purebloods who’ve gotten a little too smug in the time since his disappearance, he didn’t even intervene when his ex-lover tried to steal my baby. And sure, maybe he’s been in hiding because he wants us to figure out how to take care of our own problems, but we’ve had centuries to do that, and it hasn’t happened yet. I don’t think there’s a big-enough excuse for what he’s been doing.

And none of that would matter if the Luidaeg decided to order me to bring my baby to her. She’s not my liege: there are no oaths between us. What there are, instead, are debts. So many debts, going in both directions. I’m honestly not sure anymore who owes who, and if she told me I had to do it, I’d probably obey, just to prevent accidentally offending someone who could quite literally turn my bones into termites.

She turned her attention back to Miranda, making a soft cooing noise. It was a pretty scene, and a far cry from the woman who’d once told me with a straight face how much she hated children. The Luidaeg can’t lie, and at the time, she’d been telling the truth; her own descendants had been exterminated, and she’d hated all the children of the world for being alive when the Roane were not. But now the Roane were back, and she had a family again, of a sort.

I walked back over to Raysel, sliding my arm around her shoulders. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go get some of that cake May was making.”

She nodded silently, allowing me to lead her out of the room and down the stairs to the warm, strawberry-scented kitchen, while above us, the oldest person I had ever known sat with my baby in her arms, and everyone was safe, because who would dare to challenge the sea witch on what she clearly considered home ground?

Everyone was safe, and whole, and home. And in that moment, I foolishly allowed myself to believe this state of things would last.

More fool me.

SIX

MAY HAD ELECTED TO stay home with Miranda while the rest of us went to court, something I would have interpreted as a favor if she hadn’t been so unreasonably gleeful about being the one who didn’t have to deal with the pomp and circumstance of a formal court occasion. She’d even stood in the doorway and moved Miranda’s arm up and down to make her wave goodbye to us as we made for the car, thus proving that she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Remind me to hit her with a water balloon when we get home,” I grumbled, sliding into the driver’s seat and fastening my seatbelt across my waist.

“Only if I get to throw one as well,” said Tybalt, mirroring me in the passenger seat.

“Of course,” I said magnanimously, and looked to the rearview mirror, watching as Quentin and Raysel fastened their seatbelts. Chelsea and Dean were going to join us in Muir Woods, the one traveling via portal, the other arriving with the Undersea delegation. Technically Dean is sworn to Arden, since his demesne is on the land and not in the water. And he does accept orders from her when necessary. But right now, as we were arguing the validity of Dianda’s claim of offense, it seemed like a good idea to have the reminder, however small, of just how much support Saltmist had in the Mists.

We had asked Raj about attending, but he wasn’t able to get away from his duties in the Court of Cats. Instead, he sent his best, and promised to have a representative attending Arden’s court to monitor it for him. No one had needed to say anything about the fact that Tybalt could no longer be considered an objective observer. He wasn’t, and hadn’t been for a long time.

“Everybody buckled?” I asked. I had watched them do it, but I’ve had enough terrifying car-chase experiences to choose safety over sorrow every time.

A chorus of assent came from all corners of the car. I turned on the engine, pulling out of the driveway.

Our house is in San Francisco proper, right next to Dolores Park. Muir Woods is about an hour away by car on a good night. An hour in a car with an anxious Cait Sidhe, a woman on the verge of a panic attack, and my somewhat-sullen squire is not and has never been my idea of a good time. Still, I drove gamely on, not allowing myself the easy luxury of stopping for fast food or trying to find a shortcut.

“I could have carried you through the shadows, you know,” muttered Tybalt, seeing the way my hands were clenching on the wheel.

“You could have, but I didn’t want to make Quentin and Raysel take the bus,” I said.

“Hey,” protested Quentin. “I have a car. I could have driven us. Or we could have called Danny.”

“You’re not used to driving outside the city, and last time we had Danny drive us somewhere, we got abducted and Miranda nearly got abducted,” I said. “He’s still beating himself up about that. We’re not bothering Danny.”