Two #2
Anyway, my work means that we did have humans in the house on occasion, before I had the baby, and the middle of the afternoon was the most common time for them to show up.
I didn’t know yet how I was going to handle things moving forward, just that Tybalt was unlikely to be comfortable with me bringing random humans around our daughter—and I wasn’t comfortable with it, either.
Maybe I could get an office. Regardless, our kitchen wasn’t the guaranteed human-free haven Chelsea seemed to expect. I gave her ears a hard look.
She glanced upward, following the line of my gaze, then rolled her eyes. “Toby, I’m not twelve,” she said. “I already checked that there wasn’t anyone else here. I just needed to grab some breakfast and maybe talk to you for a minute about Raysel.”
“Which is my cue to take this little moppet up and change her diaper,” said May, giving Miranda a bounce. “Morning, Chelsea, muffins on the counter are fair game. Ginger pear this morning, and I think we still have a few blueberry and rosemary left from yesterday. Look in the bread basket.”
Then she was gone, sweeping out of the room before anyone could argue.
I wouldn’t have even tried. Out of all of us, May had been the one to effectively declare herself on Raysel’s side.
All the rest of us cared about her and did our best to protect her, but May prioritized her in a very specific and intentional way.
She’d been the one to decorate Raysel’s room, and to make an effort to learn what sort of things Raysel liked to eat, so that there was always something around that our guest would enjoy.
No one asked her to do it. She just did. My Fetch had a heart as big as Avalon.
If we were going to talk about Raysel behind her back, May wasn’t going to be there to hear it. That way she could still be on Raysel’s side, and she wouldn’t have to keep secrets from her. It was best, for everyone.
Chelsea walked over to the counter, selecting a muffin, before she turned to face me. “Raysel’s terrified,” she said, bluntly.
“We knew that,” I replied. “And I’ve told Ar—Queen Windermere that I want to speak at court. She’ll listen to me, you know she will. She’ll let us extend the term.”
“You shouldn’t have to extend the term. ‘She shall return to her parents’ halls only if she and Sir Daye both agree her debt is fulfilled,’ that’s what Duchess Lorden asked for, isn’t it? That’s what Queen Windermere granted. None of this matters, because you don’t both agree.”
I flinched. “Chelsea, you know it doesn’t work like that. If Sylvester tells me to release her, I’ll have no choice.”
If Sylvester ordered me to release her, I’d be asking him to release me with my very next breath. My fealty to him has been strained for years. Using it to force me to return his daughter before she was ready would be abusing it in a way it wouldn’t recover from. I couldn’t serve him after that.
“And Raysel knows she has to go back eventually, which will make it damn hard for her to tell her parents no if they really want to press the issue. I know,” said Chelsea.
“If it helps, I’ll tell you what I told her: I don’t think the Duke is going to try to force things.
He doesn’t like her being so far away, but he knows she’s safe here, and he’d rather she be safe and have the time to heal than be right down the hall and feel like she’s in danger all the time.
It’s the Duchess we need to worry about.
She will force things. Whether or not it does any good.
Raysel knows her mother will try to take her back, no matter what the Queen says. ”
“There’s not a lot her mother can…” My words slowed, tapering off before I could reach the end of my sentence. Because there was something Luna could do.
Blind Michael was a Firstborn son of Oberon and Maeve, powerful beyond the understanding of modern fae, immortal and terrible and capable of twisting minds and bodies alike with a twitch of his fingers.
He’d been one of Faerie’s greatest monsters, a nightmare too big to be used as a bedtime story.
You know it’s bad when parents won’t even use it to terrify their children into staying in bed.
He and his Wild Hunt had preyed upon the children of Faerie for centuries, until he’d made the mistake of touching my family, and I’d been forced to kill him.
But even a monster can be a man, can love in their own ways and in their own time. Blind Michael had a wife, Acacia, the Mother of the Trees. And they had children, the youngest of whom was Raysel’s mother, Luna Torquill.
In the Kingdom in the Mists, Arden’s word was law. If she said the claim of offense still stood, then there was nothing Luna could do about it. Except.
Luna was Blodynbryd. Luna had access to the Rose Roads, which would take her straight to her father’s skerry, where Acacia’s word was law. And if Luna showed up there with Raysel in tow, I wasn’t sure Acacia would be willing to listen to reason long enough to let us take her granddaughter away.
“Oberon’s hairy fucking ass, Luna could ruin everything,” I muttered.
Chelsea nodded grimly. “Unfortunately for all parties involved, Raysel reached the same conclusion right around dawn. She’s really scared that her mother’s going to grab her and do something big stupid, and I don’t know how long I can keep calming her down.”
“Okay, Chelsea. You did the right thing by telling us. Do you know why Raysel didn’t tell us herself?”
“She’s afraid that if she’s too much trouble, you’ll realize this could cost you your oaths and decide to give her back.” Chelsea put her hands up defensively when I narrowed my eyes. “Messenger! Do not shoot! I know you would never. But Raysel … well. Raysel worries.”
I forced myself to nod slowly, not looking at Tybalt, who was making a low, unhappy growling noise deep in his throat.
He didn’t seem to realize he was doing it.
He’d always been protective of his people, especially the younger ones, but since becoming a father, he’d been kicking that protectiveness up to a frightening degree.
“Of course she does,” I said. “After what she’s been through, we all worry about her. It would be weird if she didn’t worry about herself at the same time.”
“I’m so glad,” said Chelsea, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
“You said before that you checked to make sure there was no one else in the house before you came out without a disguise on,” I said. “What did you mean?”
She grimaced a little, almost apologetically, and took a quick bite of her muffin before she said, “You know how Tuatha portals work, right?”
“Right,” I said, warily. Chelsea is a Tuatha de Dannan like her father.
They’re teleporters, opening passages through space to move without being detected or detained.
She has a broader range than most, capable of opening portals across hundreds of miles rather than being limited to a relatively narrow geographic range.
“Well, when we open them, we can see through them,” she said, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
“And we decide how big they’re going to be.
Normally we open them big enough to walk through, but if, say, I open a portal the size of my hand and put it where no one’s going to notice it, I can look through and see what’s going on before I go someplace. ”
Put that way, it sounded so simple. I blinked at her. “You’re using portals to spy on people?”