The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,156
new fashion trend? Should I be modifying my own default forms?”
Ginevra reached up with both hands, grimacing as her fingers found the furry slopes of her ears. “Oh, dammit,” she said. “I thought I got it right this time. Raj, can you . . . ?” She let go of her ears and gestured helplessly.
Sometimes the fact that she was in San Francisco to supervise me felt like some vast practical joke on the part of the universe. But unless I wanted to challenge my uncle for his throne immediately, which I didn’t, I needed a regent. Ginevra was unquestionably powerful. It radiated off her, crackling in the air like electricity before a thunderstorm. She’d learn to mask it eventually, concealing her potential behind polite illusions, but until then, she was like a signal flare on a dark night. No one was going to challenge her. Not when she could vaporize them for trying.
Sadly, this didn’t make her good at the delicate things, and that’s where I’ve always excelled. I stepped forward, offering her my hands. She took them gratefully, the points of her claws pressing against my palms.
“Close your eyes,” I instructed, waiting for her to obey before I did the same. I breathed out, and when I breathed in again, I reached for her magic, tangling it with my own.
I couldn’t have done it without her consent. She was too strong for that: if she’d decided to fight me, we could have battled each other to a standstill, all without moving or letting go. My magic brushed hers, and hers surged forward, until they were a braided chain suspended between us, her power and mine in perfect balance.
It was foolish of her to trust me this much. It would have been even more foolish of me to abuse that trust. I slid my awareness forward, finding the space where she kept her image of herself. It was still malleable. She’d known how to be a changeling for her entire life, unable to control how much of the cat and how much of the woman she wore. I could see the shadow of her former self in the open spaces around the image she was crafting now: she’d been one of the unfortunate changelings born with a fully proportional tail, as well as the fluffy ears that currently graced her head. No adornments befitting a Queen, those.
But then, why not? Why do we feel the need to style ourselves after the Daoine Sidhe, who will never see us as their equals, no matter how carefully we imitate them? We should be free to choose our own destinies, and the forms we wear as we approach them.
“Relax,” I said, and pulled on her magic, guiding it away from who she’d been and into the space opened by who she was trying to become. My magic flared hot in my hands. I let go and stepped back, opening my eyes.
Her ears were shaped more like mine now, pointed and proud, but not animal. Her teeth were smaller. Her eyes were no less luminous, and her coloring was no less outside the human norm. She would have been an ornament in any Court of the world, pretty and perfect, suited to any royal table. A pang of melancholy regret mingled with my regard. She looked lovelier to me now because she looked less like a Cait Sidhe.
How much of our potential is spent on the endless, aching need to hide?
“Better,” I said. “Queen Windermere would be delighted to receive you.”
Ginevra reached up to feel the tip of her left ear, smiling when she found it smooth and furless and immobile. “Oh, that’s good,” she agreed. “Your uncle taught you well.”
“My uncle has been preparing me to be King since I was old enough to understand what the position would entail,” I said.
“I can’t say the same about my dad.” Ginevra’s mouth twisted in a wry curl. “He always said he felt like I would have been a Princess if I weren’t a changeling, but I was a changeling, so it didn’t matter because the Shadow Roads would never anchor themselves through me. And then, Toby, you know,” she waved a hand, encompassing the whole of her fae self, “and suddenly I had a lifetime of lessons to catch up on in like, five minutes. I wouldn’t change it, not for the world, but wow am I going to mess things up.”
“Yes, well, you’re messing them up while technically standing regent over me,