The Winter Long

by Seanan McGuire

  I bared my teeth. “Humor me,” I half-snarled. “Why didn’t they want to get a divorce?”

  “Because that would mean admitting there was no hope for them. It may be hard for you to believe, but there was a time when we were all so much younger than we are now. My brother loved your mother as he’s loved very few. He wasn’t willing to give up on her. And maybe I’m a sentimental old fool, but I always took it as a good sign that your mother wasn’t willing to give up on him, either.”

  There was something he wasn’t telling me. I’ve had a lot of practice at being lied to, and I know how to recognize the signs. I narrowed my eyes. “What else?”

  “What?”

  “What else aren’t you telling me?” He started to protest. I shook my head, stopping him before he could get a word out. “No. Maeve’s teeth, Sylvester, I’m mad at you for keeping secrets, and you’re still doing it. Why the hell would you do a thing like that? You know you’re on thin ice right now.”

  “My dear, I’ve been on thin ice for a very long time, especially where your family is concerned.” Sylvester ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he turned to look at the forest blocking our view of Amandine’s tower. “There is so much history between your mother and me, between all of us . . . I don’t even know where to begin. But there are also things that I promised her I would never tell you. I broke one promise to her. I won’t break a second. I’m sorry. I truly am. I love you more than I can ever make you believe, but I gave her my word.”

  I stared at him. Finally, I asked the one question I was sure he would actually answer: “What promise did you break?”

  “She came to me when she was pregnant with you. She asked me to stay away from her child, from her mortal life, until she chose to reenter Faerie on her own terms.” Sylvester turned back to me. “I won’t apologize for coming to get you before she could make you mortal, but that betrayal has been a wall between us ever since. She’s never forgiven me. I don’t think she ever will.”

  “Wait.” I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was one of the people I’d always counted on to never betray me. Unfortunately, right now, it was more important for me to be smart. Purebloods take promises seriously; it’s part of why they hate saying “thank you,” a prohibition that most changelings catch from their fae parents, like catching cooties on the playground. And the next step up from a promise is a geas, a binding enchantment compelling someone to do something—or not to do something. Like, for example, never to tell certain secrets. Ironic, and annoying. “Simon said something while he was at my house. He said he couldn’t speak the name of his employer, because his geas still held. Do you have any idea who might have hired him to kidnap Luna and Rayseline?”

  “I have asked myself that question a thousand times without finding an answer. If I had even the faintest clue, I would have tracked that person down years ago and made them pay for everything they had done to me, to my family, and to you,” said Sylvester, a new chill leeching into his words, until every one of them could have frozen me where I stood.

  Or maybe that was just the snow we were all standing around in. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to conserve warmth, and said, “Okay. So you don’t know anything that can help us find Simon, and some old promise to my mother matters more to you than I do. Good to know where I stand.”

  “October—”

  “We’re leaving.” I turned to head for the doors. Sylvester grabbed my arm. I stopped, slowly turning back to look at his hand. Voice level and calm, I said, “Let go of me.”

  “I would never allow anyone or anything to harm you. If you believe nothing else, I need you to believe that.”

  Except that he was harming me; he had been harming me every time he kept the things I needed to know secret from me. He just couldn’t see it. “I need you to let go of me.”

  And then Tybalt was there, shoving his way between us, forcing Sylvester to let me go. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. A low growl was rolling through Tybalt’s chest, making the hair on my arms stand on end. I glanced at Quentin, who was watching the whole scene with wide, frightened eyes.

  “I speak to you now as a King to a Duke, and with the utmost respect,” said Tybalt, in a tone that made it clear he could care less if Sylvester took offense. “If October is hurt because you kept a promise to her mother rather than upholding your duty to one who is your sworn vassal, believe me when I say that I will return here on my own, and I will make you sorry you ever allowed harm to come to her.”

  Sylvester smiled a little, eyes still filled with shadows. “Tybalt, if October is hurt because of what I didn’t tell her, I’ll leave the door open for you.”

  “Great. Since we’re at the threats and dick-waving part of the day, I guess this is where we go,” I said. “Sylvester, if you decide to change your mind about being an asshole, you have my number.” I turned and stormed back into the knowe before he could reply, with Quentin and Tybalt close at my heels. Everything felt wrong. My stomach was a hard, cold knot of anger and dismay. The world—my world—was changing again, and I didn’t like it.

  I didn’t like it one bit.

  The halls of Shadowed Hills were deserted, which made sense, given the time of day: any sensible purebloods would be asleep, and most changelings who live in the Summerlands learn to keep pureblood hours. We were almost to the door before I heard footsteps hurrying up from behind, and turned to see Etienne walking toward us as fast as decorum allowed. He was wearing his uniform, but it looked a little more rumpled than I was used to, like he had finally allowed himself to relax a little bit. It was a surprisingly good look on him.

  Etienne had always been the most hidebound of Sylvester’s knights. We were all expected to wear ducal livery if we were standing guard, but most of us called it a day when we reached “presentable.” Not Etienne. If he had to leave his quarters, his boots gleamed with polish, and his hair was styled until it looked shellacked. Not now. His tabard was only laced halfway down the sides, and his hair was mussed in that “straight out of bed” way endlessly imitated by fashion magazines and aspiring models. For the first time, I could understand what Bridget had seen in him. He looked like a man, and not like a Ken doll with a sword.

  “October, wait!” he called, and walked a little faster, not quite breaking into a run. Running in the halls was against the rules, after all.

  I stopped walking. Quentin and Tybalt did the same, and Quentin shook his head. “I’ve never seen Sir Etienne this unkempt.”

  “Me neither,” I said. “I wish I had a camera.”

  Etienne, who was close enough to hear us, glared. “Show some decorum,” he said. “It might serve you well in your future dealings with the nobility.”

  I wanted to protest that I didn’t intend to have any future dealings with the nobility, but as I was standing between my boyfriend the King of Cats and my squire the Crown Prince of North America, that would have been a little disingenuous. “I’ve done okay without any decorum so far,” I said. “I’ll take my chances. What’s got you out of bed in the middle of the day? Please tell me you’re not going to ask me to babysit. I’ve got a sort of full plate right now.”

  “October, I would trust you to the ends of the earth with my child’s life and safety; should she ever be endangered again, Oberon forbid, there is no one I would rather set upon her trail,” said Etienne. “But the Fire Kingdoms will freeze before I allow you to babysit.”

  I snorted. “Shows what you know. I’m good with teenagers.”

  “Yeah,” said Quentin. “She hasn’t gotten me shot in ages.”

  “Aren’t you helpful,” I said, glaring at him.

  Quentin beamed.

  Etienne looked between us, apparently bemused. “Your method of communication remains as irreverent as ever,” he said. “Chelsea woke me, but she has nothing to do with why I came to catch you. Is it true? Is Simon back in t
he Mists?”

  “He came to my house,” I said. “He tried to talk to me. When that didn’t work out for him, he attacked Jasmine and ran. I’m going to the Luidaeg’s now to ask her what we should do, but I wanted to check on Sylvester first.”

  “And because of their similarity in appearance, you felt the need to lay eyes upon him yourself, rather than using the telephone,” said Etienne grimly. It wasn’t a guess: he was the one who’d trained me, and he knew how my brain worked. “That makes sense, although it seems needlessly reckless. You shouldn’t be involved in this. Let Sylvester handle it.”

  “Fuck. That. For one thing, I’m almost as mad at Sylvester as I am at Simon right now. For another, what do you want me to do? Wait for Simon to come back to the house and condemn us all to a new life in somebody’s fish tank? Nuh-uh. I’m willing to be patient when patience is called for, but that isn’t being patient, that’s being stupid.” I shook my head. “I’m going to the Luidaeg. She doesn’t volunteer information, but at least with her, I know she’s telling me the truth when she speaks.”

  “October—”

  “I know Simon was married to my mom.” Was still married to her, although I didn’t want to say that out loud; it was too disgusting to waste time thinking about. “Is there anything else you people haven’t been telling me?”

  Etienne looked alarmed. He raised his hands, palms toward me. “Peace! I never spoke of it because they were separated, and I assumed you knew and didn’t want to discuss it. It would have been unseemly to bring it up.”

  I stared at him, my anger taking on a new white-hot form. “Oh, my sweet Maeve, you thought Sylvester took me as his knight because of Simon, didn’t you? That was why you never believed me when I said I’d earned my post. You thought I was . . . I think I’m going to be sick.”

  To his credit, Etienne looked ashamed. “I learned better.”

  “Oh, oak and ash.” I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. The situation wasn’t Etienne’s fault. He hadn’t done this to me. When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me warily, like I might bite. Forcing my tone to lighten, I said, “Look, I need to run, but once this is all taken care of, we should take the kids and do something fun. Hit Great America for the day.”

  “What is ‘Great America’?” asked Etienne, dropping his hands back to his sides.

  I smiled. “Ask Chelsea. I’m sure she’ll be happy to explain.” Great America was a local roller coaster park. There was no way Chelsea wouldn’t know all about it, and no way Etienne would be able to avoid an outing once he’d mentioned the possibility. Maybe using his teenage daughter against him was mean, but hell, people used my squire against me all the time. Turnabout was just fair play.

  “I will do that.” His expression turned worried. “But please, I have to urge you, don’t go looking for Simon on your own. Whatever he intends can’t be good, especially not for you.”

  “I won’t be alone,” I said, glancing to Tybalt, and then to Quentin. “I’ll have a King of Cats and a damn fine Daoine Sidhe illusionist with me. We’ll be all right. Also, I have no intention of fighting fair.” I didn’t say anything about my having thrown one of Simon’s spells back at him. My fingers still ached when I thought about it too hard. It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with anyone until I had discussed it with someone who might actually be able to tell me something useful.

  Etienne shook his head. “You are too cavalier about treating with the sea witch,” he said. “It makes me fear for your safety.”

  “Like the Dread Pirate Roberts so often said, she’ll most likely kill me in the morning,” I said. I grabbed a handful of shadows, weaving a human disguise around myself as I continued: “Until that happens, she’s a pretty good ally to have. Hug Chelsea for me, okay? And we’ll talk about getting together soon.”

  “I think I would like that,” said Etienne, inclining his head.

  “Good. Open roads.” With that, I turned, and beckoned for Tybalt and Quentin to follow as I exited the knowe.

  The moment of transition between Faerie and the mortal world was jarring as always. Paso Nogal Park was deserted this early in the morning, and we didn’t see anyone else as we made our way along the narrow walking path that wound down the side of the hill. Leaving Shadowed Hills was always easier than getting in. Maybe there was a deeper meaning to that, but if so, I didn’t want to think about it too hard.

  At least my headache was almost gone. I always deal better with emergencies when I’m not actively in pain.

  Tybalt put a hand on my shoulder when we reached the bottom of the hill, pulling me to a stop. “This is where I take my leave of you,” he said.

  I turned to stare at him, all the tension I thought I’d lost in the snow flooding back again. “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I heard you.” I turned again, tossing Quentin my keys. “Go get in the car. You don’t need to hear this.”

  He was a smart boy. He took off running, and he didn’t look back. I focused my attention on Tybalt.

  “Why are you leaving me?”

  “Duty.” The word was grim. “I need to notify the Court of Cats that there is danger in the city, and set them to watching for Simon. I’ll ask them to watch your house as well. He won’t take us by surprise a second time.” He smiled a crooked smile, clearly trying to get me to do the same; clearly trying to keep me from worrying.

  “All right,” I said. “Will you meet us at the Luidaeg’s?”

  “I will,” he said.

  The tension slipped away again. His logic was sound, and more, it didn’t carry any hint of him going to track down Simon without me. “Then I’ll call May and let her know where we’re headed. If she doesn’t pick up, we’ll swing by the house instead, just to make sure she and Jazz are all right.” If Simon had circled back, they could be in trouble. May couldn’t be killed, and she would recover from most physical wounds just like I would. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be incapacitated. Jazz had no innate physical defenses, and she’d been unconscious when I’d last seen her. This time, I managed to force a smile. “So if we’re not hanging with the sea witch, come save us.”

  Tybalt reached up and pressed the knuckles of his right hand lightly to my cheek. “You are very fortunate that I love you, for I doubt I could endure you otherwise,” he said.

  My smile grew. “I love you, too.”

  “Of course you do. I’m wonderful.” With that, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the shadows beneath a nearby clump of trees.

  “Okay. Now we move.” I turned back to Quentin, who was watching me with concern. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just . . . I never met Simon. He was before my time. How worried should I be?”

  I hesitated. He needed to know what we were up against—but I could explain just as well while we were moving. “Get in the car,” I said.

  He got.

  Once we were safely on the road, heading toward the freeway, I said, “Remember Oleander?”

  Quentin shuddered. “I don’t think I could forget her if I tried.”

  “That’s good. When you forget your enemies, you give them the power to come back and surprise you. Never forget her, or the things we learned from fighting her.” Mostly what I learned from fighting her was that if someone really wanted to poison me, I’d need to be in a hermetically sealed bubble to prevent it. Then again, that was when I’d been more human; my body might just shrug off the poison if something like that happened to me now.

  “So what does Oleander have to do with anything? She’s dead.”

  “When she was alive, she was Simon’s . . .” I hesitated, not sure how to finish that sentence. I’d always assumed they were lovers, but if he was married to my mother, would that really have been true? Yes, I finally decided. He’d fallen far enough that he would have been willing to cheat on his wife on top of everyt
hing else. “She was his lover, and his accomplice. She went to see my mother once, to ask if Simon had been allowed to see me. The way she looked at Amandine, and the way Amandine looked at her . . . there was so much hate there.”

  “Okay,” said Quentin, sounding puzzled.

  “Think about it. Oleander was the sort of person who killed kings for money, and she poisoned Lily just to frame me. Simon, though? Simon ran around with her on purpose, knowing what she was. Now what kind of a person do you think that makes him?” I shook my head. “I got stuck in the pond because everyone figured Simon had kidnapped Luna and Rayseline, and I was looking for proof. He caught me, and sploosh, it’s fourteen years later.”

  “Did he?”

  “Did he what?”

  “Kidnap them.”

  “Yeah. He admitted it to me in the kitchen, before Jazz broke in on us and everything went to hell. Simon actually said he was responsible for Luna and Raysel disappearing.” If I could find him, if I could restrain him somehow, I could find out exactly where they’d been kept. I was good with knives, and I didn’t much care if Simon bled. Maybe knowing where they’d been would be the key to undoing some of the trauma that haunted Rayseline’s mind. She could wake up more than just forgiven: she could wake up healed—

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did he kidnap his brother’s kid?” Quentin shook his head. “I just . . . I love my baby sister. I can’t imagine being willing to hurt her, even if we were having some sort of a fight.”

  It was still a shock when Quentin mentioned his family so casually, like it was something I’d always been allowed to know. “I didn’t realize you had a sister.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “My fosterage began when she turned seven and was old enough to understand that I wasn’t going away because I didn’t love her anymore. Her name’s Penthea.”

  “That’s pretty.” Traffic was moving fast enough that I had to keep my eyes on the road. That made the conversation easier to have; I didn’t have to look at him. “He said someone had hired him, and that he couldn’t say the name of his employer because the geas still held. So whoever it was not only paid him, they swore him to silence in the most literal way possible.”