Five #5
Raysel was standing frozen behind me, and when I turned to look at her, she squeaked and paled, looking almost like she was going to pass out.
The Luidaeg sighed. “When is she going to get used to me?”
“Probably when she starts to believe that you’re not going to eat her heart over Margie and Connor,” I said, and made for the other side of the room, where my dresser was.
I pulled my puke-soaked tank top off over my head, careful not to smear the baby sick in my hair, and tossed it into the second of the two hampers at the end of the bed.
One of them was for normal clothing, and the other was for what May charmingly referred to as “the sticky stuff.” Still, washing them separately meant that not everything I owned wound up smelling like sour milk, and that was good by me.
“I would never,” said the Luidaeg. “They were Selkies. Selkies were always a means to an end, and Margie and Connor both performed their part in the bargain faithfully to the end.”
“I—You know, Luidaeg, I hate it when you talk about the Selkies like they were somehow disposable. Or like they’re gone. There are still Selkies out there.”
“For now,” she said, dismissively. “They existed because I needed to keep the door open for the Roane long enough for someone like you to come into being. You did what I needed you to do, you brought back my descendant line, and that was what mattered. If she’d destroyed a skin, I would be a lot angrier, and she’d look a lot more like an anglerfish. ”
Raysel somehow managed to pale even further, until she looked like she was on the verge of passing out.
I dug a fresh tank top out of the drawer. “Stop terrifying Rayseline,” I said. “It’s not nice.”
“I’m not nice,” said the Luidaeg, but turned her attention to Miranda, leaning closer to my daughter’s peaceful face and cooing, “I’m the sea witch, yes I am, and I’m not supposed to be nice, am I, little stormling?
No, I am not. I’m what lurks in the dark, I’m what comes with the tide, and I am not nice.
” She leaned back again, flashing me a toothy smile.
“I’ll stop terrifying Rayseline when she stops being so much fun to terrify. ”
I rolled my eyes, pulling the tank top on and tugging it into place. “Naturally,” I said. “You just here to see Miranda?”
“As far as I know right now, yes,” said the Luidaeg. “A woman’s allowed to see her goddaughter, especially when that goddaughter’s mother refuses to bring her for a visit. Plus May said she was baking a cake.”
“You know I appreciate you not pushing the issue on coming over, don’t you?”
The Luidaeg nodded. “I do.”
She wasn’t the only one who lived in her shabby little apartment that might or might not technically exist. Her father lived there with her.
Oberon, King of All Faerie and my maternal grandfather.
He’d been missing for centuries before I semi-accidentally brought him home and broke the spell that had been keeping him hidden from his children.
He’s been living with the Luidaeg ever since …
and he’s been entirely useless. He didn’t help us stop Titania, he hasn’t revealed himself to help reel in some of the purebloods who’ve gotten a little too smug in the time since his disappearance, he didn’t even intervene when his ex-lover tried to steal my baby.
And sure, maybe he’s been in hiding because he wants us to figure out how to take care of our own problems, but we’ve had centuries to do that, and it hasn’t happened yet.
I don’t think there’s a big-enough excuse for what he’s been doing.
And none of that would matter if the Luidaeg decided to order me to bring my baby to her.
She’s not my liege: there are no oaths between us.
What there are, instead, are debts. So many debts, going in both directions.
I’m honestly not sure anymore who owes who, and if she told me I had to do it, I’d probably obey, just to prevent accidentally offending someone who could quite literally turn my bones into termites.
She turned her attention back to Miranda, making a soft cooing noise.
It was a pretty scene, and a far cry from the woman who’d once told me with a straight face how much she hated children.
The Luidaeg can’t lie, and at the time, she’d been telling the truth; her own descendants had been exterminated, and she’d hated all the children of the world for being alive when the Roane were not.
But now the Roane were back, and she had a family again, of a sort.
I walked back over to Raysel, sliding my arm around her shoulders. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go get some of that cake May was making.”
She nodded silently, allowing me to lead her out of the room and down the stairs to the warm, strawberry-scented kitchen, while above us, the oldest person I had ever known sat with my baby in her arms, and everyone was safe, because who would dare to challenge the sea witch on what she clearly considered home ground?
Everyone was safe, and whole, and home. And in that moment, I foolishly allowed myself to believe this state of things would last.
More fool me.