sunrise, no matter what promises I make to my sister.” Her reply was calm, matter-of-fact: she’d had plenty of time to think about it. “The Law has always been a little shaky when it comes to the Selkies because a Selkie without a skin is just a human. The only way to know when one of them was killed, and whether they were wearing their skin when it happened, is to ask the night-haunts. Most reasonable people don’t consider that an option.”
My ears and cheeks grew hot. “I don’t talk to the night-haunts that often.”
“You talk to them often enough that one of them chose to give up her wings and move in with you; I’d call that pretty strong evidence that you have no sense of self-preservation.”
I wrinkled my nose but said nothing.
Faerie has wondered for millennia where Fetches come from, how they’re called, and why they’re so rare. They supposedly appear for heroes and great rulers, but I’ve been through the records at the Library of Stars, and it seems like Fetches just sort of happen, usually around people who bleed a lot—which, yes, is a group that’s going to include heroes and people who ride the assassination attempt express. Turns out, Fetches are what happens when a night-haunt ingests the blood of the living. Just a little gift from Oberon, who wanted them to stick to devouring the dead. When they feed from the living, they become perfect mirrors of those people, with their faces and their memories and a direct tie to their lives. The sort of person whose blood is likely to wind up in front of the night-haunts is also the sort of person who’s likely to die in the near future, and thus the connection between Fetches and death is reinforced, until seeing someone with your own face is almost as good as an executioner’s ax.
May has been living with me for several years now. It turns out that while I may be pretty good at dying, I’m equally lousy at staying dead.
“People will die tonight because of what we’ve come here to do,” said the Luidaeg implacably. “More people will die tomorrow, when the sun is in the sky and there aren’t any witnesses around. I wish I could say I had a plan in place to stop it, but honestly, I don’t think there is one. I think this is the sort of thing that has to play out in its own way, in its own time, because I waited too long for the bargain to come due.”
“Why—” I began, and stopped when she fixed me with a cold eye.
“A hope chest couldn’t do what I need you to do, and your mother wouldn’t do what I need you to do, and she made sure your sister wouldn’t do it either, because she didn’t like the idea of destiny,” she said. “She thought if she made the future unknowable, she could keep it from happening. She didn’t understand.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I know, and this isn’t when I’m going to tell you, so I guess we’re both going to be unhappy for a while yet.”
I opened my mouth to argue. A door slammed, and I turned instead, watching Marcia emerge into the courtyard. She grinned when she saw me, walking over with only a quick nod for the Luidaeg.
“So how much are we going to pretend my liege isn’t sleeping in your squire’s room, and how much are we going to ask them to stay focused?” she asked.
“Okay, first, I don’t need to know that, and second, they’re adults. They can do whatever they like, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the reason that we’re here.” I glanced at the Luidaeg. “It’s not going to interfere, is it?”
“Sex complicates things, but no, it’s not going to interfere,” she said dryly. “The only people who need to be here are you, me, and the Selkies. Everyone else is a politically necessary extra, or an annoying additional complication.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And where are you filing Tybalt?”
“I think you know the answer to that.” She shook her head. “Amy’s on the loose, and Dad only knows what she thinks she’s doing when she messes with you. I know she was trying to protect you once, but these days it feels like she’s trying to punish you for refusing to be protected. I wouldn’t leave my lover behind where she could get to him if I were you. But that doesn’t make him