“You never gave me the chance,” she whispered.
“You never had a chance; it wasn’t mine to give,” I replied, as kindly as I could. “What you did to her, what you were clearly planning—that’s monstrous, Amy. That’s Eira’s territory.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t you compare me to her.”
“Then don’t you act like her. You have to be better than she is. There’s no point if we can’t be better than she is.” As far as I know, Eira Rosynhwyr is the oldest of my still-living sisters. I’d kill her in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it. But she’s Titania’s eldest daughter, as I’m Maeve’s, and if there’s anyone in Faerie I fear, it’s her.
Amy wiped her eyes, looking at me beseechingly. “I don’t know what to do, Annie. Why didn’t you ask me before you went to them?”
“Because you would have cried. You would have said you just needed a little bit more time. And I would have given it to you, and by the time I realized I was making a mistake, that little girl would have been completely human, and completely unable to protect herself.” I shook my head. “You say I didn’t give you a choice. You didn’t give me one, either, Amy. The only one with a Choice to make was October, and she’s made it.”
“She didn’t know what she was doing.” Amy turned away from me, shaking her head. “I can still change her. I can still save her from all of this—”
“If you touch one hair on that little girl’s head, they will never find your body.” My voice was low and dangerous, filled with a warning that I knew she would never heed. My poor Amy. She never did learn when to leave well enough alone. “She’s not yours anymore. She made her Choice. She belongs to herself.”
“You’ve forgotten what it was to be a mother.” A note of smug satisfaction crept into her tone, and I was briefly, burningly glad that I couldn’t see her face. If her expression had matched her voice, I might have slapped the smug right out of her. “Children require sacrifice.”
“Dammit, Amy, you’re not listening to me!” It took everything I had to keep my anger in check. This was my fault as much as it was hers. She was the youngest of us, and when she needed me, I wasn’t there. She should never have been given so much freedom, never allowed to make so many poor decisions. But the Firstborn had scattered in the wake of losing our parents, and we left her free for so long. Too long. This is my fault.
She whirled, blonde hair flying, hands balled into fists. Sudden rage contorted her face as she shouted, “You had no right!”
“I had every right, Amy; I had every right. That little girl deserves better than what you were trying to do to her, and you know it.”
“She deserves a life!”
“She’s not human! No matter what you do to her, no matter how deep you go, Faerie will always know her as its own. Do you understand? You can’t free her. All you can do is make her defenseless. She’ll belong to Faerie until she dies. You’re making sure that happens sooner.”
She looked at me, my beautiful baby sister, and her broken heart was shining in her eyes like a fallen star. Finally, she shook her head. “So be it,” she said, and I knew.
I knew she had given up again.
“Amy—”
“I hate you,” said Amy, the sorrow in her eyes replaced almost instantly by sullenness. She’d been the baby of the family for centuries. We were all too used to giving her what she wanted. “You’ve gotten so wrapped up in being the Luidaeg—being the all-mighty sea witch—that you’ve forgotten what it takes to be a sister.”
“This may come as a surprise to you, but right now, I don’t give a shit what you think of me. I did what had to be done. That’s my job. How about you start doing yours?”
Amy’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”
“Little late.”
“That’s it. I’m done with you. You just stay away from me.” Amy shook her head, grabbing fistfuls of the air and flinging a human disguise around herself once more. It was perfect. Her illusions always were. Especially when she was spinning them to fool herself. “Stay away from my daughter.”
“As long as you don’t hurt her again. If you do, I’ll know, and I’ll be there.” I looked at her coolly, allowing the color to drain from my eyes until they were nothing but white. I had lost a sister by going to the park and betraying her in the name of saving her. I wasn’t going to lose my niece. “You’ve neglected your duties, and I’ve allowed it. You’ve refused your purpose, and I’ve turned the other way. You’ve been content to play games while Faerie falls apart around us, and maybe that’s my fault as much as yours, but you’re still the one who did it. I will not let you refuse or fail this child. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” she snapped. “I’ll see myself out.”
I didn’t answer. I just watched her go.
The sound of the door slamming was as loud as the sound of a chain being snapped. I stayed where I was for at least ten minutes, waiting for her to come back and start looking for a way to fix this. A way to put that little girl back the way she was supposed to be, and start doing the things that she should have been doing all along. Faerie never creates anything without a purpose, and that includes the Dóchas Sidhe.
Amy never came back.
Seven years; that’s how long I waited before I went to see her, before I went to meet her little girl. And the worst of it is that now, all I can do is wait. I’ll wait seven more years, and seven more after that, seven times seven and seventy more, if that’s what it takes, until a child of Amandine’s line steps up and does what’s needed doing for centuries. Mother save me, but I’m starting to be afraid that Eira’s going to win. October should have been our best chance. And I waited seven years.
Whatever comes next is on my head as much as it’s on Amy’s. I will never forgive her for that. But whatever comes next . . . it isn’t going to be mine to do. Whatever comes next is October’s.
I hope she’s strong enough for what’s coming.