My eyes widened. For the Luidaeg to even offer . . . “No. I don’t want that. I was hoping you’d be able to tell us whether there were any hope chests in the Kingdom other than the one the Queen is holding.”
“Ah.” The Luidaeg looked relieved. I couldn’t blame her. The Selkies were skin-shifters, and the skins they wore had been flayed from the living bodies of the Roane. Every Firstborn had his or her own descendant races. The Roane had been hers.
The Luidaeg’s relief faded quickly, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Toby, but no. The only hope chest in this Kingdom is the one you surrendered to the Queen. If you want it, you need to get access to the treasury.”
“And we’re back to insurrection.” I sighed. “That’s still the plan, mind you, but I was hoping to be a little more indestructible when I pulled the trigger. Also, alive. Alive figures heavily in my long-term plans.” As human as I was at the moment, I wasn’t even sure the night-haunts would come if I died. The thought filled me with a new form of sick terror. Faerie lives on in the night-haunts. They’re the closest we can come to actual eternity. I’ve never been in a hurry to join them, but the idea that I might not join them at all was . . . unsettling.
“So what’s next?”
“There’s a book at the Library. No title, bound in blue samite, written by Antigone of Albany. It has records of where the hope chests went after they were handed out—including the one the Queen has now. Got any ideas on where we could find her? Maybe this Antigone lady can give us some suggestions on where to get our hands on an alternative.”
The Luidaeg stared at me for a long moment. Then, mirthlessly, she laughed. “Oh, how quickly they forget. Yeah, Toby. I know where to find Antigone.”
“Great!” I moved to stand. “Where—”
“That’s the name my parents gave me, after all.”
I jumped the rest of the way to my feet. “What?”
“Oh, Toby, Toby, Toby.” The Luidaeg reached over and pushed me gently back into a sitting position. “You didn’t think Maeve looked at me in my cradle and went ‘let’s name her Luidaeg,’ do you? My name—my given name—is Antigone. I was born in Scotland. We called it ‘Albany’ at the time. To be honest, I like that name a lot better, but what kind of vote do I get? I moved out centuries ago.”
“You—I—what?”
“All Firstborn have names, Toby. We chose to hide them behind titles a long time ago, when we realized it was time for us to take a big step away from Faerie. Even the strongest of our descendants were weak compared to us, their parents and originals. We didn’t have to leave. But we did have to create a barrier, to remind the children of our children that we were something more than tools to be used.”
“Blind Michael,” I said, softly.
“Yes. And Black Annis, and Gentle Annie—her name was Anglides, before she shortened it and turned it into a warning. The Mother of Trees.” The Luidaeg looked at me levelly. “We took titles as a warning. ‘Stay away. Here there be monsters.’”
“So you can’t help me,” I said quietly.
“I didn’t say that.” She held out her hand. “Give me one of those chunks of blood.”
I pulled out the bag, eyeing her warily. “Why?”
“Because I asked you to, stupid.”
“Right. Do not argue with the woman who could take your head off.” I pulled one blood gem from the bag and dropped it into her palm.
“See, if you were always that smart, we’d have a better working relationship.” The Luidaeg closed her hand. “I’ll be right back.” She turned and left the room, leaving the two of us alone.
Tybalt moved to sit down next to me on the bed. I scooted over so that my leg was pressed against his, and rested my head on his shoulder. He sighed, a sound that was somewhere between exhaustion and relief, and raised a hand to stroke my hair.
“We will come through this,” he said. “If I have to find your mother myself, and drag her kicking and screaming from whatever hole she is currently hiding in, we will come through this.”
“And if we don’t?” I twisted so I could see his face. “What if it’s me, and chunks of frozen blood, and a human grave? What then?”
“Then I stay beside you for as long as we have.” He kept stroking my hair. Cats like to be petted. Cait Sidhe like to pet. “October, I meant it when I told you I was not leaving you. I will never leave you while both of us are living. You were not quite this human when I met you, and you were far less human when I finally allowed myself to love you. But the essential core of your being has remained the same no matter what the balance of your blood.”
“How is it that you always know the exact right stupid romance novel thing to say?” I asked, leaning up to kiss him.
He smiled against my lips. When I pulled back, he said, “I was a student of Shakespeare centuries before the romance novel was even dreamt. Be glad I do not leave you horrible poetry on your pillow, wrapped securely around the bodies of dead rats.”
“Cait Sidhe romance,” I said, and laughed. “It’s definitely different.”
“I simply wish to ensure you are never bored.”
“Toby doesn’t do ‘bored,’” said the Luidaeg, walking back into the room. She was carrying a baggie of her own. This one was smaller, and contained what looked like a handful of black cherry cough drops, larger and darker than the blood gems I’d gotten from Walther. She thrust it toward me. “Here.”
“What—?” I took the bag.
“I can’t transform your blood into something that can sustain you, but I can freeze mine. If things get desperate, try one of these. Just . . . make sure things are bad, okay? They’re going to have a hell of a kick.”
I looked at the lozenges with newfound respect, and more than a little wariness. “You froze your own blood?” My magic drew power from blood—any blood. But the blood of a Firstborn wasn’t something to mess around with. I could do myself some serious damage with her blood, if I took too much of it, if the power overwhelmed me.
And that was a risk worth taking, if the Luidaeg really thought that it would help.
“I have plans for you, October Daye. They don’t include you dying human of a stupid addiction.” The Luidaeg shook her head. “I can’t help you get a hope chest. I can’t even necessarily help you find your mother—although I can go looking for her, and I will, as soon as you people get the hell out of my bedroom. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll find you.”
“On that terrifying thought . . .” I stood, tucking the bag of lozenges into my jacket. Both my inside pockets were filled with solidified blood now: mine and the Luidaeg’s. I just hoped I wouldn’t confuse the two. “Tybalt, you good for a trip back to my car? It’s time for me to go back onto the grid, and stop wanting to pass out every time we move from point A to point B.”
“Or you could call your friend the taxi driver,” said the Luidaeg. “Don’t exhaust your allies, Toby. You’re going to need them before the night is through. Now get out.”
I considered asking what she meant, but knew I wouldn’t get anything but vague implications of danger to come and maybe some profanity I hadn’t heard in a while. So I just nodded, and said, “I’ll call if anything changes,” before following Tybalt out of the bedroom and heading for the front door.
I was about to step out when a hand descended on my shoulder. I looked back to see the Luidaeg standing behind me, concern written baldly on her face.
“You’re fragile right now,” she said. “Try to be careful, okay? You’re the only niece I’m actually speaking to these days. I’m not in the mood to see you dead.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
She scowled. “Next time, say it like you mean it. Now out.” She pushed me over the threshold, slamming the door behind me.