Page 55 of A Killing Frost

Blood filled my mouth, and a red haze dropped over my vision, taking the world away.

It always comes down to the sea. Creatures of the land like to think dryness is the natural state of living things, but that’s arrogance and nothing more; the sea came first and the sea will come last and everything in the middle is only a story sung by children who have achieved temporary mastery of the air.

I have spun this stretch of shore with my own two hands, and it will not take the place of Cailleach Skerry, but it is close enough, for I am alone in the world now, and need offer no comfort to my children. The wind blows hard here and the sea clashes wild, and I will never love again, for my heart has gone to ice and ashes. Nothing more can matter in the face of all that has been lost. It is a terrible thing, to be a mother with no children. It is a terrible thing, to be alone.

But what is this? My wind dies down, and my waves turn placid, and something stretches toward the sky, spun like a spider’s web of pearl and bone. It is beautiful. I hate it.

My sister. She pollutes even this, which should have been mine and mine alone, and she will not stop until she sees me utterly destroyed—

The red mist broke just enough for me to unclamp my teeth from around her wrist. I dangled, limp and dazed, chittering softly, as she raised me to the level of my face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forget sometimes, how quickly instinct overwhelms you. It’s part of being so easy to change. But we got through the door, and that’s what matters.” She blew on my face. Her breath was strangely sweet, like the wind blowing across a field of fresh seagrass.

Everything shifted, getting smaller and bigger at the same time as my field of vision expanded. My feet brushed the sand. The Luidaeg left her hand on the back of my neck, more cupping it than grasping it, and looked me solemnly in the eye.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fi—oh, fuck, Ibityou!” Everything I’d done after my thoughts started getting fuzzy was still with me, even the parts that no longer seemed to make any sense now that my mind was my own again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, sounding amused. “You absolutely meant to. I was big and frightening and a potential predator, and you reacted accordingly. Never get mad at a dog for biting, or for a changeling you’ve transformed into a sea-dwelling weasel for reacting with aggression when cornered. You meant to do it, but it wasn’t your fault. New instincts are powerful things. What did you see?” She took her hand away.

“I think...” I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck where her fingers had been. “I think I saw Goldengreen being built. She really did just crash in here without permission and try to take away what you were making for yourself.”

“That’s my sister for you. Do you have your land legs back yet?”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Then let’s go. The beach is empty. That doesn’t mean the rest of the knowe will be.”

With the Luidaeg leading the way, we crossed the sand to the long staircase that spiraled upward into the knowe, compensating for the distance between beach and cliff. We climbed the stairs as quickly and quietly as we could, the Luidaeg in her gown of night moving with absolute silence, me grimacing every time my shoes scuffed against the treads.

The door at the top of the stairs was locked. I paused, blinking at it blankly, before leaning close and murmuring, “You know me. I held you once, although I gave you up. I have no right to command you now—I know that. Still, I think your master is in danger. Please, let us pass.”

There was a click as the door unlocked itself. I smiled and caressed the doorknob. “You are a very good knowe,” I said. I wasn’t sure whether the prohibitions against saying “thank you” applied to buildings, and I didn’t want to find out the hard way. Offending the knowe when we were trying to move through it uninvited didn’t seem like the best of plans.

The Luidaeg was looking at me oddly when I straightened. “You know, if you can sweet-talk locks into opening for you, Idon’t understand why you decided to become a detective instead of a thief,” she said.

“Devin would have preferred the latter, and I did my share of stealing. I prefer working for a living.” I eased the door open. It had never creaked before, but it’s hard to say with knowes whether something that’s true today will be true tomorrow.

And, indeed, the door opened on a hallway I’d never seen before, long and featureless, with no furnishings, and gently curving walls that gleamed in the same pink mother-of-pearl shade as the ones outside. The door swung closed behind us and disappeared. I glared at the spot where it had been.

“Oh, comeon,” I snapped. “That’s just dirty pool. How are we supposed to get out of here if you take all the doors away?”

The knowe didn’t respond. I shifted my attention back to the Luidaeg.

“Do you recognize this hall?” I asked.

“I think this is one of the ones my sister built herself, rather than waiting for the knowe to develop them in its own time,” said the Luidaeg. “If I’m right about that, there are only a few places it can lead. Come on.”

She started walking, the speed of her steps betraying her urgency. I followed in her wake, hurrying a little to keep up. She was a few inches shorter than me, and her stride shouldn’t have been long enough to rush me the way she was, but somehow she ate distance more quickly than should have been possible.

The hallway curved, and she shifted trajectories to accommodate, the Luidaeg walking faster all the time, until the hall abruptly ended in a door. It looked like it had been carved from a single large piece of oyster shell, polished and placed perfectly to bar our way. The Luidaeg nodded, looking satisfied. “This was one of the first pieces she placed.”

“How do you know that?” It was hard not to picture Evening smugly walking her sister through the halls, showing her each fixture and structure, proving without needing to say a word that she had claimed this space, it was hers now, and she was never going to leave or return it.

“There used to be these giant bivalves off the coast. They were here when I made the beach, and I figured either they’d happened on their own, or one of my siblings had lost track of them, andeither way, I didn’t care, so I let them stay as long as they weren’t bothering me. Well, my sister wasn’t as live and let live about weird slimy things that lived in the water. She dredged them all up, killed them, and used their shells in construction. For this door to be made from their shells, it must have gone up early. There were never very many of them.” Her face fell as she reached out and traced her fingers along the surface of the door. “We’re as bad as the humans are, in some ways. Give us a world, and we’ll barely stop to take a breath before we start devouring it.”

The door shivered at her touch, creaking slightly open. The Luidaeg nodded and pushed it the rest of the way. I hesitated before following her.

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