the city. Seeing his stare, she dismissed the illusion, baring her skin for all the world to see. “Do I look any different?”
Will had dealt with the fae in general—and Tailtiu in particular—enough that he wasn’t overly startled, though his cheeks did flush a bit. He spent a few seconds looking at her skin, which appeared as flawless as before, then he looked away. “Put the illusion back before someone sees you.” He expected her to argue or tease, but the illusory dress reappeared quickly.
“Mother told me my debt to her now belongs to you,” she said without preamble.
He shrugged. “I have no idea how large your debt to her was. I more or less threatened her to get her to agree to the exchange, but as usual, I suspect she somehow profited more from the deal than I did.”
“Seven thousand thirty-four unbound favors and several times that in more mundane favors,” answered Tailtiu immediately. “Given the way you negotiate, it’s probably more than you can reasonably use even in a life that spans centuries.”
Will gaped.
His aunt walked over and slowly knelt before him, her every movement somehow expressing a genuine sincerity he had never seen in her before. There was no mockery in her eyes when she gazed up at him. “The number doesn’t matter, though. I will gladly render any service you need for so long as you live. You’ve given me something I can never repay.”
He frowned, his mind trying to understand her meaning, or at least her motivation. He wasn’t even entirely sure the previous sentences were something that any fae could say. It ran counter to the entirety of their being. Yet he also knew the fae couldn’t lie. So, either it’s true, in which case she cannot be fae, or it’s a lie, which makes more sense—but then it’s something she cannot say. The incipient paradox made his head hurt. Will looked away. “Get up. You’re embarrassing me.”
The old Tailtiu would have taunted him, licked her lips, drawn out the moment, or found some other way to torment him, but the woman in front of him did none of that. She stood and looked down. “I’m sorry. It’s the only way I felt I could express my gratitude. I meant no offense.”
A jolt of adrenaline ran down his spine. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. Eyes narrowing, he took a quick step back and chanted her name three times. No matter what trick or magic the imposter was using, he would know the truth when he felt the connection of Tailtiu’s true name with the real Tailtiu, wherever she might be. The familiar tingle of connection snapped into being, and his eyes widened, staring into hers.
It was really her. “How can this be?” he asked, confused. “You’ve changed, but you can’t change.”
“Mother said much the same thing. She thinks I’ve been infected with something from your realm.”
He frowned. “Infected with what? You can’t get diseases.”
She shook her head. “Not a disease, something worse than that—a soul.”
Arrogan had once told him the fae had no souls, and over time he’d come to understand the old man’s meaning. Now he was utterly confused.
“Everything is different now,” she continued. “Everything feels different. I don’t know how to explain it. When I remember things from before—that night—they don’t feel real. I wasn’t real.”
“So, that’s a good thing, right?” he asked.
Tailtiu shrugged. “Mother didn’t think so. She called it an unending tragedy of immeasurable suffering, but I think that perhaps she was being melodramatic. Her answer to the problem was less pleasant, though.”
“What was her answer?”
His aunt blanched, expressing fear in a way he’d never seen from her before. “Pain. She told me that enough pain might be able to eliminate my fledgling soul before it could become too firmly established.”
Knowing the fae, knowing Aislinn, Will shuddered. Arrogan’s widow knew more about pain and torture than any mortal could comprehend. There was no telling what methods she might have tried. “You’re her daughter—that’s unthinkable.”
“It’s the standard solution for humans who become fae, to acclimatize them to their immortality and rid them of their useless emotions. My case is the reverse, but Mother felt it had a chance of success, whether it took years or centuries.”
“And that seems reasonable to you?”
“It would have before, but now it terrifies me, though that’s probably just a symptom of my sickness.” She paused, then tentatively, she asked, “What will you do with me?”
That was a good question. He certainly didn’t intend to