“Because food is more important than stopping Evening?” I snapped.
The Luidaeg glanced at me again, a wave of blackness moving across her driftglass eyes like a shadow crossing the moon. Then it passed, and they were just eyes again. “No. Because when you’re at war, you eat every time you get the chance. There’s no way of knowing when you’ll have another opportunity. Now sit, and I’ll tell you everything the geas allows.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I grumbled, and stroked Tybalt again. “Wake up.”
He lifted his shaggy tabby head, opening his eyes, and blinked at me blearily. Then he blinked again and flowed to his feet, jumping to the floor where he became a man. A naked man. I’d seen it all before, but the Luidaeg hadn’t, and she whistled appreciatively.
“Very nice.”
Tybalt whirled. “Luidaeg! You’re—”
“Go put on pants, please, for the love of Maeve, I cannot have this conversation if you are not wearing any pants,” I snapped, pushing him toward the door before he could get over the shock of the Luidaeg’s appearance and notice that I was once again covered in blood.
Tybalt glanced back, eyes narrowing. Oh, great. He’d noticed the blood. “I will return,” he said ominously, and stepped into the hall.
“I hate this, I hate this—why wasn’t he wearing pants?” I bolted for the sink and grabbed a handful of paper towels, attempting to scrub off the worst of the blood.
“Because for Cait Sidhe, transforming their clothes takes focus and will, and he didn’t change forms voluntarily,” said the Luidaeg, getting down another bowl. “I found him on the floor when I got here. I thought I would do well to keep an eye on him.”
“Good plan,” I agreed grudgingly, as I dropped my wad of bloody paper towels into the trash. My shirt was a lost cause. I slouched to the table and sat, too tired and dizzy to argue with her. “We need to be figuring out how to stop Evening, not sitting here and eating soup.”
“If we don’t sit here and eat soup, you’re going to collapse,” said the Luidaeg, setting a bowl of what smelled like fish chowder in front of me. “You lost more blood than you realize. You need to get your strength back up.”
“It’s been a bleeding sort of day,” I grumbled, and took the spoon she handed me.
The kitchen door swung open as Tybalt returned, now fully clothed. “You are covered in blood,” he accused, pointing at me.
“I noticed,” I said.
“She noticed,” the Luidaeg said. “Everyone noticed. Now sit down. You need to eat some soup.”
Tybalt blinked at her, nonplussed. “I beg your pardon?”
The Luidaeg groaned. “You know, sometimes I miss the days when all I had to do was tell people to do something and they did it, out of fear that if they didn’t, their skeletons would be outside of their bodies. The soup is going to help. Simon whammied you both, and his magic is all over you. This will purge it. It will also taste delicious, because I have been making medicinal chowder longer than either of your family lines has been alive. It’s my own recipe. Toby, I used all your potatoes.”
“Um, that’s okay,” I said, and took a bite of chowder. It was, as promised, delicious, sweet and savory at the same time, with chunks of potato swimming in the creamy broth. I thought I’d eaten too recently to be hungry, but my stomach roared at the taste, making it clear that my body had other ideas. Also, as promised, I started feeling better almost immediately.
“While you were asleep, I took the liberty of redoing the wards on your house,” said the Luidaeg. “My beloved sister won’t be able to tell that I’m here. And you shouldn’t need to recast them for a century or so.”
“So your magic has returned?” asked Tybalt.
“My magic never went anywhere,” said the Luidaeg. “I wasn’t dead long enough for the spells I’ve been maintaining for years to collapse, thank Dad. There are some lovely palaces at the bottom of the sea that would have dissolved into foam, and at least one Cetacea who’s currently enjoying life on two legs who would’ve stunned the crowds at Sea World. Until the night-haunts came for me, there was still a chance. My beloved sister did a great job of killing me. October did a better job of bringing me back.”
“It’s always nice to be good at something.” I took another bite of chowder, swallowing quickly. “Luidaeg—”
“I don’t think you understand what you’ve done.” The Luidaeg pulled out a chair and sat down at the other side of the table, looking at me gravely. “It’s been a long time since anyone in Faerie raised the dead. It isn’t something we do often, or that should ever be done lightly.”
“Technically this was my second time,” I said. “Alex Olsen was dead too.”
“That was your little Gean-Cannah?” she asked. I nodded. “That was different. He was a living man sharing a body with a dead woman. I was a dead woman sharing my body with no one. Bringing me back was a larger step than you could have known, or you might not have done it. Please, don’t get me wrong,” she held up her hand, palm turned toward me, “I’m grateful. I’d rather be alive than dead, and I have a great deal left to do. But you’ve tampered with the order of things. Keep that in mind, and don’t let this become a habit.”
I scowled at her. “How about you don’t let dying become a habit, and I won’t need to bring you back again?”
“Fair enough,” said the Luidaeg. “About my sister. She’s harder to kill than anyone you’ve ever dealt with. It’s part of her nature. She seems to die, and then she comes back stronger, like a weed.”
“Well, right now, that weed is taking root at Shadowed Hills, and I need to know how willingly her descendants will follow her orders, and how much control she has over people who aren’t descended from her,” I said grimly. “Sylvester didn’t bat an eye when she showed up and said that she wasn’t dead and needed him to let her in. Dean Lorden was more resistant. He’s also only half Daoine Sidhe. But a lot of the other people at Shadowed Hills who aren’t Daoine Sidhe seemed perfectly willing to let her tell them what to do.”
“My sister can control almost anyone if she puts her mind to it. As for Sylvester’s people, she’s playing on their fealty,” said the Luidaeg. “They’re sworn to Sylvester, Sylvester is of her line; all she has to do to control them is control him. Didn’t you ever wonder why the Daoine Sidhe aspire to power the way they do? No other line holds so many thrones, or wants to wear so many crowns. The Daoine Sidhe would rule the world if they could, and all for the sake of that beautiful spider at the center of their web.”
I frowned. “She told them to seek power?”
“Yes. Said ‘if you love me, rule the world,’ and then she walked away, leaving her descendants hungry for her love the way she had hungered for the love of her mother. I doubt many of them would remember her face—most of her children died young, in the questing for kingdoms to rule, and their children didn’t live much longer. Your Sylvester’s father was her grandson. She was already gone by the time he was born.” The Luidaeg’s expression hardened. “Some people should never have been parents.”
“So she can control Sylvester because he’s her descendant, and she can control the people who are sworn to him through their fealty,” I said slowly. “Can she control me?”
“If you allowed her to, yes, but it would have to be your choice,” said the Luidaeg. “You’re too aware of her now. She’d have to work harder to have you, and if there’s one thing she can’t abide, it’s hard work.” She paused, appearing to finally realize that our little duo should have been at least a trio. Fear crept into her voice as she asked, “Toby, where’s Quentin?”
“I left him in the Court of Cats,” I said. “Even Evening is going to have trouble getting to him there. You would have seen him if you’d stuck around after you woke up.”