The Winter Long
Page 53

All three of us turned to look at him. He squared his shoulders and looked defiantly back at me, and I realized how terrifying this must have been. His uncle, who was supposed to keep all the Cait Sidhe in San Francisco safe, broken by the loss of one woman. His best friend, equally broken.
They were my boys and they loved me, and I needed to be careful with them if I ever wanted to be worthy of them.
That was an unsettling thought, no matter how true I knew it to be. I stayed where I was, not going in for another hug, as I raked my salt-matted hair back from my face with one hand. “We’re all okay now, and that’s what matters,” I said. My words rang hollow. Considering how much else we had to deal with, from Simon to Evening and whatever her plan was, us being okay was a small thing. It wasn’t going to save the world. But in that moment, it was definitely enough for me.
Tybalt was the first to break the silence. “Where were you? What happened?”
“It’s sort of a funny story, actually,” I said, even though there was nothing remotely funny about any of it. I began to explain, beginning with Dianda pulling me out of the water and stopping when I successfully negotiated my way inside the wards at Goldengreen. I knew what I wanted to say, but the words refused to come. I realized I was shaking again, uncontrollably this time, as my entire body got into the act.
“October?” Tybalt sounded alarmed. I didn’t exactly blame him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me toward one of the room’s three fireplaces. “Raj, get her a blanket and some dry clothing.”
“Yes, Uncle,” said Raj. The smell of pepper and burning paper rose again, and he was in cat form before he finished going around the corner. I guess that was a faster way to move around the court.
Tybalt was continuing to pull me along with him. I gave up any pretense of resistance and let him tug me along, my teeth chattering. The analytical part of my mind identified the issue as shock, both physical and emotional, coupled with hypothermia and blood loss. My body recovers quickly from physical damage, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy on me, especially when I’m not sleeping or eating properly.
He got me settled on the end of the bench nearest to the fire, sitting down beside me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he tried to loan me the body heat that I so desperately needed. Raj came back in human form with a thick wool blanket, which Tybalt took and draped around me. I unclenched my hands enough to grasp the blanket and pull it tighter, trying to ride out the shock, which felt more psychological than physical. It had been a long day, filled with surprises that I hadn’t been looking for and wasn’t really equipped to handle.
“October?” Tybalt’s hand touched my shoulder, pressing down to be felt through the heavy wool. “Is there anything else we can do?”
“The person who raised the wards on Goldengreen—the reason we fell into the sea—it was Evening.” I kept my eyes on the fire as I spoke. That made it easier, somehow. The fire didn’t have any opinions on the matter; it wouldn’t judge me or think that I was seeing ghosts.
Tybalt went still. After a long pause, he asked cautiously, “Evening?”
“Evening Winterrose, the former Countess of Goldengreen. That’s how she was able to control the wards—she’s the one who designed most of them.” I shivered again, turning to face Tybalt. Quentin and Raj were behind him, both looking faintly bemused. “She was the first person I saw when I got out of the pond—the first fae person, I mean. She was the one who helped me get my PI license back. I stopped running away from Faerie because I had to solve her murder.”
To my profound relief, Tybalt didn’t immediately tell me I had to be mistaken. Instead, he blinked, a slow frown spreading across his face as he considered what I had said. Finally, he asked, “Could it have been a doppelganger, or someone else pretending the right to her face?”
“I tasted her magic; that’s how I knew who she was. Even without the confirmation, I don’t think a doppelganger could have convinced Goldengreen to close the wards like that,” I said. “Dean was inside at the time, and the knowe has accepted him as Count. I couldn’t have snatched the wards away from his control, but she was able to. So either she’s incredibly powerful, or she’s attuned to the knowe on a level that none of us can match.”
“But you said you talked the knowe into letting you in,” said Quentin.
I glanced his way. “That’s also part of why I don’t have any trouble believing it was really Evening. I don’t think Goldengreen ever liked her very much. Remember how upset the pixies and bogeys were when we came to reopen the knowe? They were afraid, because they’d been treated badly.” Evening had used pixies to power her lights. I would never forget their small, shriveled bodies, preserved behind the glass that had imprisoned them until they died. It was inhumane. And Evening, the real Evening, had done that.
I took a deep breath. “So, yeah. It was her. Evening Winterrose is alive.” Saying the words out loud made them feel more real. My shock began to splinter, replaced by a slow, growing anger. “She nearly killed me with the binding she used to make me solve her murder, and she was never dead. That b—”
“What did you say?” Tybalt’s voice was like a whip crack, tight with sudden tension.
I turned to look at him, frowning. “I said she nearly . . . oh.” The blood drained from my cheeks as I finally put together the implications of my own words. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to see it. The binding, the message in the flowers Simon brought to the house, all of it. “She bound me. She used the old forms, and she bound me so tight that I nearly died getting rid of the ropes she used.”
“Simon is bound, as is the Luidaeg, by someone who knew all three of you, and who is still among the living,” said Tybalt. “Does the once-Countess Winterrose fit this description?”
“She’s still a Countess, she’s just landless now,” I said automatically, before nodding. “But yes. She and Simon were both frequent attendees at the false Queen’s Court. That crazy bitch was one of the only people who could tolerate them. And the Luidaeg . . .” I hesitated, trying to remember exactly what the Luidaeg had said when I told her about Evening’s murder. The sea witch couldn’t lie. That didn’t mean she couldn’t talk her way around the truth, when she had to. “She talked about Evening like she knew her. I think they’ve met.”