make his death any less horrifying.
"They probably would have let him go, but she needed a fox for her hunt. Since he stole the cakes, she said he was the perfect fox. Oh, Kaye it was awful. They had these dogs and horses, and they just rode him down. Roiben was the one that got him."
"What is it with you fools and saying his name?" Spike growled.
Kaye shook her head. Roiben had killed Gristle for fun? Because he stole some food? And she'd helped the bastard. It made her skin crawl to think of the easy way she'd spoken with Roiben, the ways she had thought of him. She wondered what exactly could be done with a name, what sort of revenge she could really have.
The Thistlewitch held out the little egg. "Come, Kaye, blow out the insides of the egg and then break it open. There is a secret for you."
Kaye took the little blue egg. It was so light that she was afraid it would break from the slight pressure of her hand.
She knelt over the Thistlewitch's bowl and blew lightly into the pinhole of the egg. A viscous stream of albumen and yolk slithered from the other side, dropping into the bowl.
"Now break it."
Kaye pressed her thumb against the egg and the whole side of it collapsed, held together by a thin membrane.
Spike and Lutie looked surprised, but the Thistlewitch just nodded.
"I did it wrong," Kaye said, and brushed the eggshells into the stream. Unlike the little boats, this egg was a shower of confetti on the water.
"Let me just speak another secret then, child, since this one eludes you. If you think on it, I'm sure that you'll admit there's something passing strange about you. A strangeness, not just of manner, but of something else. The scent of it, the spoor of it, warns Ironsiders off, makes them wary and draws them in all the same."
Kaye shook her head, not sure where this was going.
"Tell her a different secret," Spike warned. "This one will only make things harder."
"You are one of us," the Thistlewitch said to Kaye, black eyes glittering like jewels.
"What?" She'd heard what was said, she understood, she was just stalling for time for her brain to start working again. She could not seem to get a breath of air into her lungs. There were grades to impossible, levels, at least, of unreality. And each time Kaye thought she was at the lowest level, the ground seemed to open up beneath her.
"Mortal girls are stupid and slow," Lutie said. "You don't have to pretend anymore."
She was shaking her head, but even as she did it, she knew it was true. It felt true, unbalancing and rebalancing her world so neatly that she wondered how she didn't think of it before now. After all, why would only she be visited by faeries? Why would only she have magic she couldn't control?
"Why didn't you tell me?" Kaye demanded.
"Too chancy," Spike said.
"So why are you telling me now?"
"Because it is you who will be chosen for the Tithe." The Thistlewitch crossed her lanky arms serenely. "And because it is your right to know."
Spike snorted.
"What? But you said I'm not…" She stopped herself. Not one single intelligent comment had come out of her mouth all night, and she doubted that was likely to change.
"They figure you're human," Spike said. "And that's a good thing."
"Some crazy faeries want to kill me and you think it's a good thing? Hey, I thought we were
friends."
Spike didn't even have the grace to smile at the weak joke. He was entirely wrapped up in his planning. "There is a knight from the Seelie Court. He can pull the glamour off you. It will look like the Unseelie Queen wanted to sacrifice one of our own—the sort of jest many would well believe of her." Spike took a breath. "We need your help."
Kaye bit her upper lip, running her teeth over it in deep concentration. "I'm really confused right now—you guys know that, right?"
"If you help us, we'll be freeeeee," Lutie said. "Seven years of free!"
"So what's the difference between the Seelie Court and the Unseelie Court?"
"There are many, many courts, Seelie and Unseelie alike. But it is nearly always true that the Unseelie Courts are worse and that the gentry of either court enjoy their rule over the commoners and still more over the solitary fey. We, without ties to any courts, are at the mercy of whoever rules the lands to which