young and innocent enough for Blind Michael’s lands. Would she survive another kidnapping?
Love is a powerful thing; it makes us all equals by making us briefly, beautifully human. First love cuts the deepest and hurts the worst, and when you’re caught in its claws, you can’t imagine that it’s ever going to end. I was just a kid the first time I fell in love. I got over it, but it took time, and that was something Quentin and Katie didn’t have.
“I . . .” Quentin’s voice fell gracelessly into the darkness. He was shaking. There was a time when I wouldn’t have credited him with the humanity that required.
“Quentin—” I started. The Luidaeg silenced me with a look. This wasn’t my fight—it never had been.
He had to say the words alone.
He stood frozen for a moment longer, shivering. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat as he said, “I understand,” and began walking toward them.
None of us spoke as he knelt by Katie’s feet, and for a moment I saw him in all the terrible glory of his adulthood. Beautiful and terrible they are, the lords of our lands; beautiful and terrible beyond measure. But watching Quentin, I realized they also had the potential to be kind. When did that begin? More important, how do we make sure it never, ever ends?
“Katie,” he said, and reached for her hands. Maybe it was the slowness of his approach, or the resignation in his tone, but whatever it was, she didn’t pull away. “I never meant for you to get hurt. I really didn’t.” The words belonged entirely to his childhood, begging for forgiveness and unable to see past the punishment. “I thought it could be okay. I thought I could love you without hurting you. I thought we could be different. I’m sorry.”
Katie just kept staring away into the distance; wherever she was, it was a place past easy words. Quentin quieted and watched her for a moment, hungrily, like he was trying to memorize every detail. Maybe he was. Forever is a long time. You have to burn the edges of memory onto your heart, or they can fade, and sometimes the second loss is worse than the first one.
“I would’ve stayed with you,” he whispered. “When you got old, when you were sick, I would’ve stayed. I . . .”
He stopped, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t, and won’t. I loved you. That’s enough.” He looked to the Luidaeg like he was asking for permission, and she nodded. Crying bitterly all the while, Quentin leaned in and kissed Katie for the last time.
“We are done, we are done, with the coming of the sun,” the Luidaeg said, running her hands through Katie’s hair. Quentin pulled away, watching her. “Now the morning light appears, and the Faerie Courts draw near for the dancing of our Queens on the still and dew-soaked green. Human child, run fast away; fae-folk come with close of day.”
Something old and wild and cold brushed through the darkness of the apartment. I shivered as it brushed past me, remembering my own Changeling’s Choice, so long ago, when I rejected Eden for the wilds beyond.
Katie blinked, eyes going wide as the spell wrapped itself around her. “Quentin?” I wondered what she saw when she looked at him; what fiction her mind was using to cover what she knew damn well was really there. Did it matter? He’d given her up. She was no longer Faerie’s concern.
Quentin looked to the Luidaeg, and she nodded marginally, giving her consent. Turning back to Katie, he offered her his hands. “Come on. Let me take you home.”
“Home—yes, please. I’d like to go home.” She stood, letting him lead her to the hall. It was shorter now, and they reached the front door in a matter of moments.
Quentin looked back once, his face like a mask, before they stepped out into the light of day. Mortal day. The sun has no love for our kind. I knew what came next: it was a simple story. He’d walk her to the corner, hail a taxi, take her home, and leave her on her doorstep, as the fae have done with their mortal lovers since time began. For good or ill, she’d never touch the world of Faerie again. She was free. All it cost was Quentin’s heart.
I crossed and sat next to the Luidaeg, watching her. She looked back for a long time before turning away and saying, “I tried, Toby. I really