“Helen, please,” I managed to wheeze.
“I’m going to go make some scrambled eggs and toast,” said Willis. “Raj, you’re going to eat what I put in front of you, without complaining. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Good boy.” He walked out of the living room, leaving me, Helen, and Cal to our own devices.
Helen’s devices seemed to consist entirely of trying to squeeze the life out of me. I raised one hand, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. She responded by making a muffled sound and burying her face against my chest. I glanced at Cal. They shrugged.
“She was pretty scared,” they said. “We’d never met before. I guess having a strange Cait Sidhe wake you up and tell you that your boyfriend’s been hit by a car is freaky and not so much fun. Maybe you should introduce her to more of your friends. Only we’re not friends, really, so maybe just introduce her to more people, period? That way if this happens again, she won’t be so scared.”
Helen pulled back enough to twist around and glare at Cal. If looks could kill, as the old song goes, her expression would have struck them dead on the spot. “Don’t you even say that,” she snapped. “Raj isn’t going to get hit by any more cars.”
“I could, though,” I said uncomfortably. She turned her face back toward me, eyes going wide and wounded. I swallowed the impulse to flinch, forcing myself to look levelly at her as I said, “The world doesn’t stop being dangerous because we tell it to. If it did, my Uncle Tybalt would fret less.”
“Something has to be safe,” said Helen stubbornly. “We can’t be afraid all the time.”
I hesitated. “Helen . . . we shouldn’t have to be safe to not be scared. We should just stop being scared.”
She looked at me like I’d slapped her. To be honest, I felt sort of like I had.
“Please, Helen,” I said, trying again. “The world is big and wild and dangerous and wonderful, and even though it’s never completely safe, it mostly doesn’t hurt us. I go outside every day, and this is the first time I’ve been hit by a car. I had to save Cal.”
“I appreciated being saved,” said Cal.
I ignored them. Helen, and that look on her face, was infinitely more important. “We can’t take the danger away. Not entirely. We can just learn how to live with it.”
“What if I don’t want to learn how to live with it?” Helen shoved herself off me, pushing me deeper into the couch and knocking the wind out of me when her hands pressed down on my bruises. “What if I don’t want the world to be dangerous? Huh? What then?”
“Helen—”
“You could have died,” she spat, and ran out of the room, her footsteps thundering up the stairs.
Slowly, I pushed myself out of the couch, groaning as my bruises complained. “I should go after her,” I said uncertainly. “That would be the correct thing to do. Wouldn’t it?”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” said Cal, putting their hands up in proactive self-defense. “I just met her and she already scares me. Maybe I’m glad I’m not your friend. All of your friends are scary. Like, super scary. I think your least scary friend is that Daoine Sidhe kid, and there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me think he’s scarier than he wants anybody to realize he is. Like he’s secretly scary. Secret scary isn’t un-scary. It’s actually sort of worse.”
Quentin would probably laugh to hear himself described that way. I still looked at Cal in dismay. “I’m your Prince. One day I’ll be your King. You don’t get to tell me you won’t get in the middle of something. If I want you in the middle, the middle’s where you’re going to be.”
“Yeah, but you’re my Prince with a sitting regent, and she said to keep an eye on you, which means not getting myself murdered by your scary changeling girlfriend. I know what my job is right now. My job is you.”
I glared at them. They shrugged, unrepentant.
“If you don’t want someone else telling me what to do, hurry up and take the throne. Until then, you aren’t the one in charge.”
I started to object, then stopped, sighed, and stood. “Stay here,” I said. “As you said, you’re staying out of this.” I turned, not for the stairs, but for the kitchen.
Willis was at the stove when I stepped into the room, his attention primarily focused on the skillet of eggs sizzling away in front of him. He had a little bowl of grated cheese that he was sprinkling over the top of the pan. The burner wasn’t lit. Hob magic has its uses.
I frowned. “That looks like cast iron,” I said. “It isn’t, right?”
“Since I don’t want to poison myself or my daughter, or even you—not really—no, it’s not cast iron,” said Willis. “It’s granite.”
I didn’t know how cookware could be made of stone, and I had the feeling that if I asked, he would tell me, so I didn’t ask. “Oh.”
“I heard Helen’s door slam. She’s pretty mad at you right now. I expected you to be upstairs trying to apologize to her.”
“I can’t.”
“And why’s that, son? Keep in mind, she’s my beloved baby girl and the only thing I have left of her mother, and you’re the boy I sometimes allow into my home. Answer carefully.”
“Because . . .” I stopped, sorting through my tangled thoughts, and finally said, “I didn’t mean to get hit by that car. It hurt and I didn’t like it and I’ll try really hard not to let it happen again. But if I had to make the choice to save Cal or not right now, I’d still save them. I’m faster than they are. I’m stronger. I can survive it, and they probably wouldn’t have.”
“You’re willing to break my daughter’s heart over ‘probably’?” Willis gave the eggs a stir.
I sighed. “If this is enough to break your daughter’s heart, I may have to break it even worse because this isn’t going to change, and I can’t hurt her on purpose.”
Willis glanced over his shoulder at me, and for the first time in our acquaintanceship, I thought I actually saw respect in his eyes. “I didn’t realize you understood that.”
“I’m a Prince of Cats. I have been since I was born. It was never . . .” I paused, looking for the right words, and finally said, “It was never optional. I could run away tomorrow, tell my Uncle Tybalt I won’t take his throne, trap him in a position he’s no longer suited to hold, and I’d still be a Prince of Cats. It’s not about being someone’s heir. It’s about having the kind of power the Court of Cats requires to survive. It doesn’t matter what I want. People will always need me to be an anchor for them. If I ran, someone would eventually challenge me for the crime of being in their territory, and I’d only have to win once to wind up King somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t here and isn’t home. I’d rather stay here and keep my word and be someplace familiar when I have to be King. But I do have to be King. I can’t say no.”
“And that means you’re going to have to put yourself in danger,” said Willis.
“It means we’re going to have to break up.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting his reaction to be. Anger, maybe, or relief that I was finally going to get away from his daughter. He just nodded, though, and turned his attention back to the eggs.
“You’re young, you know,” he said. “Honestly, if I’ve ever had an objection to the two of you being . . . involved . . . it’s that you’re young, and I remember being young. I didn’t always make the best choices. It’s hard for human kids, or kids like Helen, to understand that something they do today can impact them in five years, or ten, or twenty. For kids like you, like the one I was, it’s even harder, because we’re looking at a scale of centuries. When we screw up, it can haunt us for hundreds and hundreds of years. That’s not easy. That’s not fun. So yeah, I haven’t always totally approved of how close you two are, or how much time you spend together, but it’s not because I don’t approve of you. I just . . . I don’t
want her to do something she’s going to regret later.”
“That sounds like I’m something she’s going to regret,” I said, voice as neutral as I could make it.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I took a deep breath, forcing my fingernails to stay the way they were, rather than extending into claws. “I know Helen’s your daughter, and you don’t want her getting hurt. But she did get hurt. Blind Michael hurt her. He didn’t do it by mistake, and he didn’t do it because he loved her and thought it would be okay. He did it because he was a monster. Monsters hurt people. October killed him, and I guess if you asked him, he’d say that made her a monster, too, and maybe I’m a monster because I’m glad he’s dead. I’d kill him every day while Helen watched if I thought it would help her. Lots of things can hurt her. I don’t want to be one of them. I’m afraid I’m going to be because I’m always going to be what I am. But it’s not because we’re young. It’s because the world sucks.”
“I understand.” Willis lifted the pan off the stove and began portioning the eggs onto the waiting plates. “Let me guess: you either expected relief at the idea that you’d be getting away from my daughter, or anger, because why wouldn’t you be planning to spend the rest of your life with her? She’s smart and funny and beautiful and good. You’d be lucky to have her.”
He was right, which made my stomach curl. “I guess this is where us being young makes a difference, huh?” I couldn’t imagine marrying Helen, even if the throne weren’t going to get in the way. I liked her a lot. I probably loved her. But Willis was right when he said the choices we made today could last for centuries, and I wasn’t ready yet to decide which choices were the right ones.
“I guess so,” he agreed.
“How old were you when you met Helen’s mother?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Four hundred and nine. Still a young man, by the standards of the Hobs I was living with. When I started stepping out with a human woman, they called me a hothead and a fool, said she’d just die and break my heart. They were right about that part. They were wrong about the rest. My Tina was the smartest choice I ever made. She didn’t mean to leave me. She didn’t mean to leave us. I made my choices, and I stand by them. As long as you treat Helen with respect and can say the same thing about your own choices, I’m all right with them.”
Willis picked up two plates of scrambled eggs and held them out to me.
“Take them upstairs,” he said, almost gently. “She’s probably waiting for you to follow her. I’ll feed Cal.”
“Okay,” I said, and took the plates, and left the kitchen.
EIGHT
Climbing the stairs with bruises that felt like they ran all the way down to my bones was an experience I wasn’t planning to repeat any time soon. Once I was recovered enough to return to the Court of Cats, we’d find me a healer and make all of this go away. Yes. We’d make all of this go away, and then Quentin and I would go to a spa and sit in hot water until my body forgot what it even was to ache.
Helen’s bedroom door was closed. I looked at it and sighed.
“I have your eggs,” I called. “I don’t have any free hands, and I don’t trust myself on the Shadow Roads yet. Can you come open the door? Please?”
Silence answered me. I sighed again, louder this time.
“Come on, Helen. This isn’t fair. I just want to talk to you, okay?”
Footsteps from the other side of the door heralded her approach. Then it opened—not far. Just enough for her to scowl out at me.
“You won’t promise not to put yourself in danger, but you’ll bring me eggs.”
“Well, yeah.” I shrugged helplessly. “I’m a Prince of Cats. Danger is always going to be part of my life, even when I wish it wasn’t. You know I’d rather be watching movies on the couch with you than getting hit by cars.” Movies on the couch, or other things in her bedroom. I could try for dignity as much as I wanted. I was still a teenager.
Although, if Uncle Tybalt and October were anything to judge by, adults liked to blame everything teenagers did on their hormones while still being more than half-ruled by their own hormones. It was another case of “do as I say, not as I do,” and the fact that it was funny didn’t make it less annoying.
“Really? Because you just told me you weren’t going to stop.”
I held up the plates. “Eggs. Eggs for eating.” My stomach grumbled. “I need to eat them. Can we sit down and talk about this? Please?”
Helen looked at me sullenly for a moment before she turned and walked back over to her bed, leaving the door open for me. I sagged with relief and followed her into the room. I closed the door before I moved to sit beside her on the mattress, handing one of the plates over.
“They’re not cold yet,” I said, before driving my fork into my own plate of fluffy scramble. The eggs were excellently well-prepared—hearth magic tends to lend itself to excellent outcomes, regardless of the cook’s actual skill—and I took several quick bites before glancing at Helen and lowering my fork.
She was pale, trembling slightly as she stared down at her plate. A tear ran down the slope of her nose and fell onto the eggs, vanishing.
“You’re going to leave me,” she whispered. “I always knew . . . I always guessed you would, but it was always later. Like ‘later’ was a different country and I didn’t have to worry about what happened there. Only later isn’t far away anymore, is it? Later is right around the corner.”
“Helen . . .” I set my plate aside before taking hers out of her lap. Then I moved, slowly and achingly, to kneel in front of her. She looked at me gravely. I took her hands in mine, holding them as tightly as I dared.
I took a deep breath.
“I love you,” I said. She flinched. I didn’t let go. “You’re brave and smart and loyal and beautiful, and I guess I’d love you even if you weren’t all of those things, but it makes it easier that you are. You’re perfect. You’re better than I deserve.”
“So why can’t you choose me?” Her voice was a whisper, aching and broken.
I sighed. “Because I don’t have a choice. I was born a Prince of Cats. That’s what I am. It’s what I have to be, whether I like it or not—and I do like it, Helen. I really, really do. I’m powerful and I’m well-taught and I’m going to keep my people safe from monsters like the one who hurt us. I love you. I love my people, too. I’m not going to turn my back on them because I’d rather be with you.”
“That’s what your Uncle’s doing,” she snapped, and everything suddenly made sense.
“Helen . . .” I stopped, catching myself before I said anything I wouldn’t be able to take back. When I tried again, I kept my voice softer, kept my eyes steady on hers. “My uncle has been King of Cats in San Francisco for more than a hundred years. He’s earned a break. He’s earned a chance to heal from everything that’s been done to him. I don’t want to be King yet. I want to be a teenager. I want to kiss you and tell you you’re beautiful, and let things go wrong without feeling like I have to take care of them. But I can’t do that if it means forcing my uncle to stay and become a bad King.”
“He’s losing his throne because he loves Toby,” said Helen.
I nodded.
“You’ll leave me because you have to put your people over me.”
I hesitated before I nodded again. “If I have to. I don’t want to. Helen, I want to stay with you more than anything. But I think . . . I think you need someone to talk to. Someone who isn’t me or your father. You’re not getting better. You’re still scared all the time. That’s not good for you. It’s not healthy.”
She laughed unsteadily. “Who do you want me to talk to? I can’t exactly go down to the local urgent care and ask for a therapist with experience dealing with fae issues.”
“Why not?”
She blinked at me. “Did you hit your head against that car? You know why not.�
�
“I really mean it. Why not?” I stood, still holding her hands. “Your Queen in the Mists lived in the human world for like, a hundred years, and her Chatelaine’s a changeling, and my regent used to be a changeling. Toby knows all the halfbloods and thin-bloods and everybody. I bet someone out there knows a fae therapist. Someone you could talk to without betraying any secrets, because they already know them!”
Helen scoffed, turning her face away. “Therapy is for humans.”
“Therapy is for people who need to talk about their problems so they can get better. I mean, honestly, most of the purebloods I know would really benefit from some professional help. They get so messed up, and then they never talk about it, until one day they wander off into the nearest forest, or go evil and try to kill everyone, or decide they’d be better off as monsters. Can you imagine how much easier everything would be if people made better choices? Or at least choices that involved less knives?”
There was a long, long silence before Helen asked, in a small voice, “Do you really think there’s someone out there who helps people like us? Who’d be willing to talk to me? I’m just a changeling.”
The urge to scratch everyone who’d ever made her feel that way—including, at times, myself—rose in my breast, the way it always did when she talked about herself that way. Like she didn’t matter. “If there’s one thing I can be absolutely sure of after spending the last several years following October around, it’s that there’s no such thing as ‘just’ a changeling. Everyone’s different. Everyone’s important. You matter so much, and it . . . it scares me sometimes, thinking about the way you’re shutting yourself away in here. I won’t always be able to come make sure the world hasn’t forgotten about you.”
She looked back to me, eyes abruptly distant. “You’re going to break up with me, aren’t you? As soon as you become King, you’re going to break up with me.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t see the point in lying to her now, not when she was already upset. It would just make things worse later. “I might have to. I don’t know. Or maybe I won’t have to. Uncle Tybalt was dating October for a while before anyone started talking about abdication. She gets into a lot more trouble than you do. We could probably be a couple for a long time before you wanted to, I don’t know, go off to culinary school somewhere else, or met somebody you liked better than you like me.”
The Unkindest Tide Page 42
