Page 36 of A Killing Frost

There was a long pause before he said, in a deeply unhappy tone, “What.”

Well, that wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. I turned to face him. “What’s the problem? You knew we were on our way to find Simon, and that might mean finding her. We need to know she’s still asleep.”

“Yes, but... if my Firstborn made this place, she should have made it perfect for the Daoine Sidhe, and this isnotperfect! This is like something out of one of Chelsea’s creepy horror movies, and I don’t like it!” He sounded personally offended, like Eira’s terrible taste in environments existed purely to spite him.

I couldn’t resist. I reached over and ruffled his hair with onehand, something that was a lot easier back when he was shorter than me. “Kiddo, if you think that woman has ever done anything in her life to benefit someone who wasn’t herself, I haven’t been training you well enough. She’s the worst.”

“No, your mom’s the worst.”

“Fair point. Can we agree that they share the title, and get moving?”

“Please,” said May. She was leaning against one of the charcoal-sketch trees, a hand pressed to the gaping hole in her belly. “I’m getting tired, and while this isn’t going to kill me, I should probably be in a bed by now. Holding very still, while someone spoon-feeds me pear sorbet and potato soup. So if we could get this over with before any more of my organs decide to fall out of the gaping cavity that was my abdominal wall, that would be peachy-keen.”

“Right.” I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and sniffed the air.

There wasn’t much wind, and I was willing to bet that this deep into Faerie, in a shard realm that was only accessible via one of the old roads and with a helping hand from a missing Queen, there wasn’t an ordinary day-night cycle either. That meant magic that would have long since dissolved in the mortal world might still be hanging around for me to find.

All I could smell was the green, mossy loam of a healthy forest. No roses, and no magic apart from the faint scent of cotton candy and ashes that surrounded May as her body fought to keep itself together. I adjusted my stance, bracing my feet to balance myself better, and took a deeper breath, inhaling through my nose until my lungs ached.

And there, on the absolute edge of what I could detect, was the faintest scent of snow.

I let the breath I’d been holding out and pointed in the direction the scent had come from. “She’s that way. If she’s awake, she’s not slinging magic around yet. Let’s go.”

Quentin hesitated. “Won’t she be able to take me over if sheisawake? Daoine Sidhe can’t argue with her.”

“If she tries to tell you what to do, I’ll punch her in the throat,” I said solemnly. “You’re my squire. I’m not going to share.”

“Trust Toby to punch the unstoppable force of chaos,” said May. “You know she’ll do it.”

“Yeah,” said Quentin uncomfortably, and started walking again.

I couldn’t blame him for his discomfort. I’d completely forgotten Eira’s impact on her descendants in my hurry to reach Simon. It’s like that for most of the Firstborn. Amphitrite, the First among the Merrow, triggers either violence or unconsciousness in her descendants. The Selkies always trusted the Luidaeg, no matter how ridiculous the lies she was telling them should have seemed. I don’t know what Mom inspires in her descendants—she mostly makes me want to slam doors in her face these days, and while I desperately wanted to please her when I was a child, there’s nothing unusual about children wanting to please their parents. That’s practically what it means to be a child.

Still, if Eira tried to mess with him, I’d find a way to stop her. She was powerful and awful, sure, but she wasn’t omnipotent. Firstborn can be defeated. They can even be destroyed. I’ve done it before. If this one wanted to test that, I’d be happy to oblige.

The fog didn’t thin as we worked our way deeper into the forest, assuming “deeper” was the right word when we’d started in the middle of the place. We could be moving toward the forest’s edge. I didn’t think we were. The possibility still existed, and we kept moving, dodging the tangled heaps of briars, trying not to run into trees. The farther we walked, the more frequently May had to stop and brace herself against a tree, breathing turning increasingly ragged. I moved toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you need to wait here?” I asked. “Because we can handle the next part without you if we have to.”

“You don’t know that,” she said, panting. “You don’t know what the next partis. You’ve gone haring off without a real plan before, and it never ends as bloodlessly as you think it’s going to. No. I’m your Fetch. I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not my Fetch anymore,” I corrected. “You’re my sister. Sisters are invited, but they’re not required.”

A small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “All sisters?”

“Well, maybe notallsisters,” I said. “I think August would be something of a liability right now. And that’s compared to you, the gutless wonder.”

“I still have my metaphorical guts,” she protested, swiping at me as she pushed herself away from the tree. I laughed and started walking again. May shuffled along beside me. Guess the tendency to keep pushing myself forward even when there was no point predates my developing the ability to heal from mortal wounds, sinceshe and I split before there was any inkling that I would eventually be able to do that.

I paused occasionally to sniff the air, tasting it for traces of snow, and found plenty. The smell of roses began to mingle with it, weakly at first, but growing steadily stronger. I frowned.

“What is it?” asked Quentin.

“Roses,” I said.

“I don’t smell any roses.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s... everyone’s magic has a distinct smell.”

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