Page 75 of The Unkindest Tide

Tybalt pulled away, far enough to rest his forehead against my own and look into my eyes. His pupils were narrowed to slits, despite the dimness of the room around us, making him look alien and terrified at the same time—both accurate descriptions, in their own way.

“When I pulled the knife from your back, it carried a piece of your spine with it,” he said. “Bone never meant to see the light, brought into the open. You stopped moving, stopped breathing. I thought . . .” He shuddered, like a horse that had been ridden too hard before being stabled by a careless owner. “I thought you were leaving me. Please, October, I beg. Don’t leave me so soon. I know you cling to your mortality out of love for your father and concern for yourself, and I know it means you may leave me, one day, whether you will it or no, but please. Not so soon as this.”

“I’m not planning to leave you,” I said. “I’m not ever planning to leave you. I’m not going to say I’m sorry for jumping in front of that knife, because if it did that to me . . .” I let my voice trail off.

Every kind of fae has their own strengths and weaknesses. Cait Sidhe, like Tybalt, are shapeshifters and fierce fighters and graceful illusionists, able to hide themselves from prying mortal eyes without struggle. But they don’t heal the way I do. They don’t bounce back from what should be mortal injuries. They heal faster than humans, sure, but that’s not enough. Past a certain point, that’s nowhere near enough.

Tybalt let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a laugh as he pushed the hair back from my face with blood-tacky fingers. “I cannot fault you for wanting me to stay and order you to stay in the same breath. But please, October, please. My heart can’t take much more of this.”

“I know.” I put my hand over his, holding it there for a moment before looking around. “This is the Court of Cats.”

“A sliver thereof, yes,” he said. “There are sufficient Cait Sidhe in this place that they’ve called it into being. I’ve not seen any sign of a King or Queen to anchor the place to the Shadow Roads; odds are none of the resident cats have ever been here, nor ever shall be.”

That explained the dusty emptiness of the room around us, and the way it seemed to blur around the edges, like it was barely holding itself to this level of reality. I pulled away, turning to peer into the corners, then looked back to him.

“Would this happen to the San Francisco Court if you didn’t have Raj to take over?”

Tybalt nodded. “Given enough time, yes. The Shadow Roads are stable there from long use, and as long as my subjects stayed within the Court, it would not collapse upon them. But if they ever left it standing empty, it would seal itself, reducing in size, until it vanished entirely.”

Like the knowe in Muir Woods. It had been sealed after Gilad’s death, and reopened fully only when Arden asked it nicely. I could have counted its rooms on the fingers of both hands in those first days. Now, I had no idea how big the place was, and it seemed to get larger all the time, expanding according to some private blueprint designed by its original owners and shaped by Arden’s specific needs.

The king is the land. In Faerie, everything else may be negotiable, but it remains unchangeable and essential that the king is the land.

I took a deep breath. “Torin attacked us just as I was about to tell you my suspicions about the Selkies. Did you notice?”

Tybalt raised an eyebrow. “I realize you’ve just lost a great deal of blood and a portion of your spine, but do you honestly think I might have overlooked your being attacked? There are things I can’t miss, no matter how much it might help my peace of mind to do so.”

“I know you noticed the attack.” I pushed his shoulder, trying to seem playful. All I actually succeeded in doing was make him look concerned, as my shove barely stirred him, while sending another wave of exhaustion washing through me. I grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“Never apologize for showing weakness to me.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my fingers lightly. “It is a true honor, that you feel me safe enough to do so.”

“Safe. Right.” I took a deep breath. “I think Torin had been following us for a while. We know the Undersea has their own alchemists; someone could easily have bottled the Cephali camouflage for him, if he wanted to listen in on us with his own ears.”

“It seems risky,” said Tybalt. “As we saw, the one who follows is the one who risks being hurt.”

“Yes, but Torin’s an Undersea noble, not a land noble,” I said. “They take a lot more risks on a regular basis. They have to, culturally speaking, if they want to hold onto their fiefdoms. I don’t think he could ask anyone to risk getting hurt on his behalf, not if he wanted them to respect him enough to keep following where he led. Especially not with Dianda still insisting on her innocence.”

“She might not be.”

“I’m sorry—have you met Dianda? He might have been able to blackmail her into lying and claiming she’d committed treason if he had the boys, but Dean and Peter are safe with Patrick, and there’s no way she’d take his word for it if he said he was going to hurt them. He’d have to show her proof. He doesn’t have proof. She’s got to be resisting whatever he wants her to do, and that’s slowing him down.”

“Why do you think he has a time limit on prosecuting treason?” Tybalt asked.

“Pete left as soon as he got here, because she doesn’t like to involve herself in Merrow affairs,” I said. “Okay, fine. That works. But what if Torin’s not actually here to involve himself in Merrow affairs?”

Tybalt frowned. “Now you’ve lost me.”

“Torin has never made a claim on Saltmist before. It’s pretty clear he and Dianda’s parents had a ‘just until we get some heirs’ marriage. Right?”

“I suppose.”

“So he never expected to get Saltmist through legitimate means. He filled the duchy with troops who are loyal to him, and he expected Dianda’s people to go along with it because that’s how things are done in the Undersea, but honestly, why now? Dianda has left Saltmist before. He could have taken the Duchy during my bachelorette party, or when she was in Goldengreen having dinner with Dean. Honestly, if he wanted her to give up easy, he should have taken it one of those times. Peter can breathe water. Peter can take care of himself. Patrick can’t. She would have given in and done whatever he wanted, if her husband was in danger.”

Tybalt frowned slowly. “Perhaps he didn’t desire it before now.”

“Please.” I waved a hand. “You don’t assemble a force like the one we saw in Saltmist overnight, not even in the Undersea. You don’t decide to gamble everything on a whim—and he is gambling everything. Dianda isn’t going to forgive this.”

“Merrow fight. Perhaps this is their equivalent of a family squabble.”