gray-blue as morning fog. They widened slightly when she saw Oleander standing there, before narrowing in outrage.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You are not welcome. I grant you no hospitalities, nor the warmth of my hearth.”
“Why, Amy, aren’t you the high-nosed bitch these days,” Oleander replied, her own voice thick with loathing. “He sent me. Someone thought he should know you’d come home again, and now he’s wondering after your welfare.”
Amandine pursed her lips, studying Oleander. Finally, dismissively, she asked, “Is this what you’re reduced to? Playing messenger-girl for the Daoine Sidhe? I thought you held yourself better than this.”
“At least I didn’t whore myself to the mortal world for a replacement,” Oleander spat. “Has he even seen her, Amy? Your little imitation? I can take her for a visit, if you still think you’re too good for social calls. Or are you afraid she’ll realize what she is? Are you afraid—”
I winced even before Amandine started to move. Oleander didn’t know her as well as I did, and didn’t recognize the sudden tension in her posture for what it was before it was too late. Amandine lunged, wrapping one hand around Oleander’s throat and the other around her wrist before the other woman had a chance to react.
I shouldn’t have been able to hear what came next. We were too far away, and she was speaking too softly. But this was a dream, and I was going to hear what Karen wanted me to hear.
“If you come near my daughter, if you touch her, if you look at her, I will know, and I will make you pay.” Amandine’s voice was tightly controlled. She would have sounded almost reasonable, if not for the fury in her expression . . . and the fear in Oleander’s. Oak and ash, one of the scariest women in Faerie was looking at my mother like she was the monster in the closet. “Do you understand me, Oleander? I will make you pay in ways you can barely comprehend. I will make it hurt, and the pain won’t stop just because I do. Do you understand?”
“Bitch,” hissed Oleander.
Amandine narrowed her eyes. The smell of her magic—blood and roses—suddenly filled the formerly scentless garden, and Oleander screamed, writhing in her grasp. Amandine didn’t move, but she must have been doing something, because Oleander kept screaming, a high, keening sound that wasn’t meant to come from any human-shaped throat.
The smell of blood and roses faded. Oleander slumped in Amandine’s hands. My mother looked down at her dispassionately, not letting go.
“How much of who you are is what you are?” Amandine asked. Her voice was still soft. That was possibly the worst part. “How much do you think it would change? Would you like to find out?”
“No,” whispered Oleander.
“I’m afraid I can’t hear you. What was that you said?”
Oleander licked her lips. “I said I wouldn’t go near your daughter. I’ll leave. I’ll say you don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Ah, good.” Amandine released her, looking satisfied. Oleander dropped to her knees, gasping, as Amandine stepped back to her original position. “That was what I hoped you said. Your visit has been most enlightening, Oleander. I trust it won’t be repeated.”
Oleander staggered to her feet, glaring daggers at my mother as she stumbled backward, out of reach. “It won’t. I won’t come here again.”
“Not even if he sends you?”
“There are some things I won’t risk for anyone.” Oleander took another step back, keeping her eyes on Amandine the whole time. “Keep your little half-breed bitch. The two of you can rot for all I care.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” said Amandine. Turning her back on Oleander, she walked into the tower and closed the door.
Oleander stayed where she was for a moment, glaring daggers at my mother’s wake. Then she turned, storming back down the path and out the gate, into the fields beyond the tower grounds.
I turned to Karen. “Why did you show me that?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’m still not very good at this. I just sort of do what the dreams tell me I have to. But I didn’t show it to you.”
“What?” I frowned. “Of course you did. I just saw it.”
“No.” She looked past me, into the bower of white-on-white flowers where the dream began. “I didn’t show you. I just reminded you that you knew it.”
It took me a moment to realize what she was saying. Slowly, I turned, and saw myself—my much smaller, much younger self, still