The Unkindest Tide (October Daye)

by Seanan McGuire

  I blinked. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “They think of me as a monster, remember? As far as they’re concerned, I’ll do virtually anything. Maybe I’m wrong—I’m not lying when I speculate about what the future might be, as long as I base it off what I know to be true. But honestly, I don’t think I am. These people are going to be her peers for a long, long time, and she’s going to be on even footing with them, because none of them know how to be Roane yet. I needed to not start her off in a position of social isolation.”

  “That’s . . .” I paused, shaking my head. “That’s way more carefully thought-out than I expected.”

  The Luidaeg shrugged. “I’ve had a long time to learn how to read people.”

  The entry to our courtyard was visible up ahead, and I sped up, anticipating the comfort of being back among people I already knew and trusted. Tybalt and the Luidaeg matched my pace. I barely noticed. Quentin was probably going to be pissed that we’d gone off without him. It was for the best—having him there wouldn’t have made things go any more smoothly—but I could still appreciate his reasons for annoyance. Best to get this over with. Maybe he’d been able to spend a little quality time with Dean, and would go easy on me. Maybe—

  We came around the edge of the courtyard and stopped, staring at the scene that was unfolding inside. The people we’d left behind were grouped at the center of the space. They had been joined by two newcomers. One, a tall man with burnished bronze hair covered in a thin patina of verdigris, was standing, holding hands with Poppy and staring at her, mouth slightly ajar, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. The other, a tawny-skinned woman with straight black hair, was aiming a punch directly at Dean’s throat.

  Dean dodged the blow with surprising speed, laughing, and swung back, aiming his own fist for the side of the woman’s face. She grabbed his arm and twisted, performing a complicated pivot with her lower body that somehow resulted in Dean being flung over her shoulder. He slammed into the deck, landing on his back. He laughed harder. So did she, turning to offer a hand up.

  I smiled. It was difficult not to. Both of the newcomers were dressed in the vaguely ahistorical, vaguely maritime style that dominated the Duchy of Ships; whether or not they’d ever been here before, they fit right in. They were clearly at ease in a way they’d never been when they’d come to visit us on the land. This was their home. This was where they belonged.

  Quentin looked over and saw us, waving somewhat laconically. So he was annoyed, but willing to swallow it for the sake of his boyfriend’s parents. Good to know. “The delegation from Saltmist has arrived,” he called. “In case you missed it while you were running off and leaving me behind.”

  Okay, maybe not so much with the swallowing it. “I see that,” I said. “Is Dianda actually trying to kill her eldest son, or is this how Merrow say hello?”

  “Mostly the latter,” said the Luidaeg. “I once attended a Merrow wedding that was three days of the wedding party punching each other. It might have gone on longer, but the guests felt left out and staged a siege.”

  “Who won?” I asked.

  She grinned toothily. “They were all so busy punching each other that they forgot to guard the cake. So, really, I did.”

  I shook my head. “Right.”

  Dean embraced his mother, still laughing. I took that as a sign that it was safe to approach: Dianda probably wouldn’t have let him get that close if she’d been considering the virtues of a second assault.

  Patrick didn’t seem to notice our arrival. He kept staring at Poppy, and as I got closer, I saw the tears running down his cheeks—and hers. Poppy’s tears glowed with a pale orange light, much like her body used to, back when she’d been a true pixie and not one of the Aes Sidhe. Patrick’s tears were just tears, saltwater shed and returning to the ocean, where all such things belong.

  Dianda released Dean and whirled on me, reaching out to initiate another hug. Then she froze, eyes going to a point behind me, and I swallowed a sigh. She’d seen the Luidaeg. Of course she had.

  “We’re here because the Luidaeg called a Convocation,” I said patiently. “I think it makes sense that she’d be here.”

  “Right,” said Dianda. The playful violence she’d been displaying when we arrived was gone. Her voice was faint; she looked like she was considering the virtues of passing out.

  Under any other circumstances, it might have been amusing to see the normally brash Merrow rendered silent and on the edge of shaking. Maybe. I don’t necessarily enjoy seeing my friends and allies suffer. Sure, they don’t always extend the same courtesy to me, but part of being a hero is learning how to rise above.

  “What’s with Patrick?” If I could distract her, she might stop staring past me with that mixture of longing and dismay in her eyes, like she wanted nothing more than to reach for the Luidaeg, knowing with absolute certainty that if she did, she’d pay for her impertinence.

  Dianda glanced at her husband and some of the dismay left her face, replaced by fondness. She really did love him. They’d been married for more than a hundred years, and she still looked at him like he was the greatest treasure in all of Faerie. I hoped I’d still look at Tybalt like that after we’d been together for a century.

  “The tall orange woman, whose name is ‘Poppy,’ apparently used to be a pixie,” she said. “Did you know pixies could turn into full-sized people? Because I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t either, until Poppy did it,” I said, all too aware of Tybalt and the Luidaeg at my back. Neither of them had said anything. I was surprisingly grateful for that. “She’s Aes Sidhe now. She gave up whatever it is that makes a pixie a pixie willingly, to save Simon Torquill.”

  Patrick jerked a little, his hands tightening on Poppy’s until she grimaced. He loosened his grip. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said, and smiled radiantly through her tears. “You’re here and alive and looking at me and I can talk to you, and that’s about the better part of everything. I can go back to the swarm and tell Lilac I saw you.”

  His eyes widened, and the rest of us were forgotten again. “Lilac? She’s alive?”

  “Alive and thriving and still flying sure and strong.”

  Patrick’s laugh was small and choked. He turned to Dianda. “Lilac is the pixie whose wing I repaired, back when we were first courting. The little girl, the one who’d been injured by someone looking to collect lights for a garden party.”

  “I remember.” She turned to Poppy, bowing her head in respectful acknowledgment. “It’s very nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry to have stolen Patrick away.”

  “We didn’t forgive for long and long, but I suppose forgiveness is the thief in the afternoon sometimes, stealing your anger away when you’re not paying attention,” said Poppy. “He looks healthy and seems happy, so all has been forgiven as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Did you really give up your home to save Simon?” asked Patrick.

  I grimaced and stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s a long story, and maybe this isn’t the best time for it,” I said. “I promise, though, I’ll explain everything. I should probably have explained everything a while ago.”

  “First, though, the Selkies,” said the Luidaeg, finally inserting herself into the conversation. She focused her attention on Dianda. “Are we going to have a problem?”

  “Are you going to turn me into a shadow on the surface of the sea?” asked Dianda.

  “I could,” said the Luidaeg. “Was that a request? Or are you asking me not to?”

  “I have a husband, two sons, and a Duchy to take care of, so I’d prefer to remain a Merrow, if that’s all right by you,” said Dianda. She took a breath, visibly composing herself. “It is . . . difficult, looking at you, knowing the sea did so poorly by one of its Firstborn that you left us for the land.
We don’t have many left to us.”

  “Um, Mom?” said Dean.

  “In a second, honey,” said Dianda. She kept her eyes on the Luidaeg, wary as a predator whose territory has been invaded. Which, in a way, was exactly the case. “I was raised to worship you, Lady. I was raised to offer you the best part of a kill and the sweetest fruit of the harvest, to do whatever was required to keep your wrath from the tides that rock my people. So please forgive me if I don’t know how to talk to you. You’re . . . daunting.”

  “See, this is why I left the sea,” said the Luidaeg, turning to me. “They’re nice people and all, but they can’t forget what I am. They can’t just let me be a monster.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be a monster,” I said.

  “Mom,” said Dean.

  “It’s not that I want to be a monster, it’s that being a monster means I don’t have to deal with people acting like I hung the moons,” said the Luidaeg. “Who has time for that shit? My parents wanted to be gods. I just wanted not to get slaughtered by my siblings.”

  “Mom, please,” said Dean.

  Dianda turned to him, scowling. “What is so important that it can’t wait for me to be done talking to the sea witch?”

  Dean glanced around, clearly looking for someone to support him. Quentin grimaced and held up his hands: there was no help coming from that quarter. My squire has many excellent qualities, and one of them is knowing when not to get between the temperamental mermaid and her son, even if that son is his current boyfriend. Marcia just looked baffled. The politics of Firstborn and the Undersea were not a part of her daily routine.

  “Mom . . .” Dean paused, taking a deep breath, and said, “Amphitrite is here.”

  Dianda went still.

  “What?” asked Patrick.

  “The Merrow Firstborn. Amphitrite. She’s here. On the Duchy of Ships. I think she sort of technically is the Duchy of Ships. She’s the captain. All the ships that sail here sail for her. It’s hers.”

  “That’s not possible,” said Dianda. “Duchess . . . I can’t remember her name, but a duchess holds the Duchy of Ships, in the name of Queen Palatyne. Captain Pete sails under her colors, and he’s not the Merrow Firstborn. He can’t be.”

  “Have you ever met Captain Pete?” asked the Luidaeg. Her voice was surprisingly kind.

  “Once,” said Dianda. She frowned, looking suddenly lost. “There was a storm. Not long after the big earthquake. The Duchy of Ships is anchored in a slice of sea that’s almost a skerry, so it’s in everyone’s waters and no one’s waters at the same time. They managed to dodge the worst of the aftershocks, and they couriered medical supplies and food to the coastal domains. I was still new at being Duchess, but I remember . . . I met him. I know I did. I just can’t remember his face.” She paused, frown becoming a sharp-edged smile. “I remember his nose, though. It crunched so nicely when I punched it.”

  “Yeah, so apparently that’s one of the two common reactions Merrow have upon meeting their Firstborn. Either they pass out, which Dean did, or they attack,” I said. “Sounds like you attacked.”

  Dianda shook her head. “No. I’d remember punching my own Firstborn. Or, more likely, I wouldn’t, since I’d be dead.”

  “Pete doesn’t mind when her descendants assault her, as long as they calm down after the shock passes,” said the Luidaeg. “She says it’s something in the blood, and she can’t hold it against you, when she’s the one who went and made you this way. She doesn’t leave the Duchy often. You should feel honored, even if she did feel the need to fog your memory after the fact, to keep her secrets safe. You may not even remember she’s here after you go home, although I suppose that’s up to her. She might decide you’re trustworthy.”

  I wouldn’t, said her tone.

  Dianda shook her head again, harder this time. “No. I’d remember.”

  “Sorry, Mom, but yeah,” said Dean.

  She looked at him, stricken, and said nothing. Patrick gave Poppy’s hands one final squeeze and let them go before moving to stand next to his wife.

  “Well, this is fun.” The Luidaeg clapped her hands. “Can we possibly make this any more awkward, do you think, or should we all stand around staring at each other for a while? Really, the possibilities for discomfort are endless, if we all work together.”

  “It’s nice that you can still be sarcastic,” I said. “I think if you couldn’t lie or be sarcastic, you might literally explode.”

  “Titania’s cruel, but my father wouldn’t let her go that far,” said the Luidaeg.

  Privately, I thought Oberon had allowed his wife to go more than far enough. I wasn’t going to say so. There were some family affairs that were well past my pay grade, and this was one of them.

  “Where are Nolan and Cassandra?” I asked.

  “Shopping,” said Quentin. “He wanted to see if some pie dealer he likes still had a stall here, and Cassie’s trying to keep him from getting kidnapped or thrown overboard or something stupid like that. Which means he’s looking for information about his old nursemaid, and she’s trying to stay out of the way. Her job is mostly babysitting.”

  “Then you should have plenty to talk about, since you seem to think your job is similar,” I said.

  He wrinkled his nose.

  Dianda had taken the pause as an opportunity to recover her composure. She gestured toward a nearby seat. “Do you mind?” she asked. “Keeping myself on two legs for long periods of time is wearying, and I’d like to be able to walk when I need to.”

  “Of course,” said the Luidaeg. “I’m not here to torment my sister’s children. Just my own.”

  Dianda nodded as she sank gratefully into the seat, stretching her legs out in front of her and pressing her ankles together. The scent of water lilies and amber rose around her, and scales rippled across her skin, replacing her legs with a muscular tail that ended in jewel-toned flukes, which she splayed contentedly across the ground. She was lovely. It was easy to see why Patrick was so besotted with her, even after all this time.

  “Oh, that’s better,” she said, bending forward and resting her forehead against the spot where her knees had been. After a moment, she raised her head, still bent double, and looked at me. “How did it go with the Selkies?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking the Luidaeg that?” I asked.

  “Yes, probably, but I’m still a little freaked out by having her just standing around like a regular person, so for my own peace of mind, I’m taking a moment to pretend she isn’t here,” said Dianda. She glanced to the Luidaeg. “No offense intended, Lady. This is a lot to take in.”

  “No offense taken,” said the Luidaeg, sounding almost amused. “Please, continue pretending I’m not here. I’ll make it easier by not being here. October, if any Selkies come looking, I’m sort of obligated to speak to them, but for anyone else, I’m in my room and don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Got it,” I said. I hesitated. “Isn’t this the sort of thing Poppy’s supposed to take care of? She’s your apprentice.”

  “Yeah, but she’s also a bigger flake than you are, and she’s understandably distracted. Just do as I say, all right?”

  “All right,” I said, and was rewarded with a quick smile before she stomped across the courtyard and into her apartment. She slammed the door so hard the whole frame shook, and I laughed. “Drama queen.”

  “Should you be speaking of one of the Firstborn like that?” asked Patrick.

  “Believe me, that’s kinder than most of what I have to say about the Firstborn,” I said.

  “Truth,” said Tybalt. “My lady possesses a filthy mouth and a creative mind when it comes to describing our forebears.”

  “Too much information,” muttered Quentin.

  I laughed again, turning back to Patrick and Dianda. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “What
, and miss the opportunity to see our son when he’s back at sea, like a sensible Merrow, and not hiding in his inland halls?” Dianda finally sat up. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Goldengreen is coastal,” Dean protested.

  “Coastal, but still on dry land,” said Dianda.

  I looked around. There were no other Lordens. “Where’s Peter?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen both of you without him.” One or the other, sure, but not both at once.

  “Peter is safe in Saltmist with Helmi,” said Patrick. “We wanted to bring him, but it seemed . . . inadvisable.”

  “Meaning you thought there might be a slaughter here,” I concluded.

  Dianda shrugged. “Can you blame us? This is a whole new thing. Anyway, Peter’s getting older. He’s ready to stretch his fins a little, and if anybody tries to hurt him or take him hostage, Helmi can explain why it’s a bad idea.”

  “Meaning she’ll assault them until they go away,” I said.

  “You get used to it after you live in the Undersea long enough,” said Patrick. “Things are simpler there.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.” I took a step back and Tybalt was there, putting an arm around my waist and pulling me, ever so gently, against him. If I didn’t focus on the fact that we were on a floating demesne in the middle of the ocean, the scene was almost pleasant. Everyone in this courtyard was a friend or an ally, or at minimum, someone I trusted to have my back in a fight. It was a level of security I didn’t have very often outside of my home.

  Of course it couldn’t last.

  The sound of marching feet broke our momentary peace. I pulled away from Tybalt and spun around to see what looked like a full detachment of armored guards enter our courtyard, arraying themselves to either side of the entryway. I didn’t recognize their livery, which featured a red-and-yellow chevron with a hippocampus rampant above three radiant sea stars.

  Dianda did. She was on her feet in an instant, transforming back into her bipedal form with a smooth, somehow frenetic speed as she moved to place herself in front of Dean and Patrick. That, more than the ceremonial tridents in the hands of the guards, told me something was wrong.