Page 74 of A Killing Frost

“Mom’s going to be thrilled when she hears Grandma gave her the wrong name,” I said, with a sliver of satisfaction. “I just wish I could be there when she finds out.”

“Regardless.” Simon returned his attention to Quentin. “I made the first choice either entirely or partially on my own, as you chose to follow your knight down a road that might not have a happy ending. And then I made the choice to save my daughter from her own choices, which were not necessarily good ones, and lost any chance I had to make the right choice in the future. Once the sea witch had my way home, all routes to becoming a better man were closed to me. I am genuinely sorry to have done you harm. It was unfair of me to target you. I swear the secrets I learned from October’s blood will be kept, and not used against you if I have any choice.”

“What doesthatmean?” asked Quentin sullenly.

“It means I still belong in part to a woman who does not easily give her toys away, and she has few enough of them in this time that she’s likely to come looking for me when she inevitably wakes.” Simon turned his gaze on me, eyes suddenly wide and borderline panicked. “When they elf-shoot me, you mustn’t use the blend I brewed. Her blood makes too great a portion of it, and she’ll be able to find me in my dreams. She’ll twist me back into her creature, and I’ll do you harm. Please, please, put me to sleep with something your alchemist makes for you. You owe me nothing. I know that. But let me have the peace of knowing I’ll do no further harm.”

I blinked, slowly. “Simon...”

“I deserve little grace. Give me at least the grace of being kept from her.”

Tybalt stepped forward, finally putting himself closer to me. “What you’ve done in the past may be unforgivable—I have no intention of forgiving you—but that doesn’t mean we’ll deliver you back into the arms of a monster. Such a thing would makeusunforgivable, and we are better people than you are.”

To my surprise, Simon actually smiled. “You always have been, Sir Cat. Even when you followed my sister more like a lost puppy than a prince, you were a better man than I.”

I cleared my throat. “Simon, do you have any objection if Tybalt and I get married?”

He looked startled at the idea. “Why would I think I had the right to object, even if there were anything to objectto? It’s clear to anyone with eyes how much he loves you, and I’ve held your blood on my tongue. Your love for him flavors everything you are. If I’d tasted any doubt or absence of desire, I might answer differently, because I want you to be happy, but as it is, no, I have no objections. I just hope you’ll choose something pleasant for a cake. Some of the things you remember eating and enjoying are appalling.” He was clearly trying to lighten the mood.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Okay, good. Then, on behalf of Tybalt and myself, and to avoid someone trying to claim offense on your behalf, would you please come to our wedding?”

Simon couldn’t have looked more startled if I’d hauled off and slapped him. He stared at me for a long, frozen moment—long enough that I started to fear the answer I was going to receivewasn’t the one I wanted. If he was invited and chose not to come, would that leave any avenues open to offense? Pureblood etiquette is awful.

“I... October, I don’t expect you to wait a century for me to wake before you marry,” he finally said.

“She’s not going to wait another six months before she marries,” said Tybalt, voice low and dark. “After stunts like she pulled today, she’ll be fortunate if she waits sixdays.”

“I don’t think we can pull a wedding together in six days without leaving someone off the guest list and offending them forever,” I said. “Especially not when we’re supposed to get married in Toronto. Quentin’s parents will never forgive us if we just go down to the courthouse.” Although it was tempting.

Simon shook his head. “I would love to be in attendance. I don’t think... I mean, you can’t intend...”

“To keep you awake? Yeah, we sort of do.” I glanced from him to Tybalt. “Everyone get in the car. We’re going on a road trip.”

“Shotgun,” said Quentin, heading for the front seat. He paused to check the back for intruders, a habit he’d picked up from me, and Tybalt smirked as he stepped around him to claim the front. It was a familiar routine, and a comforting one. I turned toward the car.

Simon grabbed my arm before I could take a step. I gave him a quizzical look. “Yes?”

“October, what I’ve done—my brother will never forgive me.”

“You’re probably right about that. Although, honestly, I’d be a lot more worried about Luna. She’s not very forgiving these days, not since she lost the skin she stole.” I shook my arm free of his grip. “It’s about time we stop holding the past against each other, don’t you think? Oberon’s back. Anyone wants to be a jerk about letting you keep your eyes open, I’ll just point to the actual King of Faerie and tell them you helped me find him.”

“But I didn’t—”

“You kinda did. If not for Riordan deciding she was going to recolonize Annwn, he would never have followed me through Chelsea’s portal and been stranded in deep Faerie while playing at being human. If not for August having taken a Babylon candle and journeyed there, I wouldn’t have gone looking for her, and wouldn’t have found him. I don’t know why he wasn’t able to shrug off his own spell, but presumably he had a reason.” One I would be veryinterested to learn, once we had the chance to sit down and talk this all out. There were going to be so many long, awkward conversations in my future.

Well, as long as no one was trying to stab me, I’d be fine with sitting down for a few awkward conversations. I’d pretty much had my fill of stabbing for the moment. “And while the Luidaeg has been hinting that finding her father might be on the docket, I wasn’t planning to go looking for him until I absolutely had to. It was looking for you that let Evening get her hooks back into me, even if it was only for a few minutes, and she accidentally told me where to find him. So you see, without you, none of this would have happened. Now get in the car.”

I slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at Tybalt, who was already securely buckled and looking straight ahead like a man on the way to his own execution. “Hey,” I said softly. Quentin could hear us, but it wasn’t like I had that many secrets from my squire. This certainly wasn’t one of them. After all, he’d been there. “Are we gonna be okay?”

Tybalt started to huff, probably intending to tell me that no, we weren’t. Then he caught himself, reaching across the front seat to rest a hand on my thigh. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “What you did to me, what you did to yourself—it was the only way forward, and you made your choice with all the information needed to bring yourself back.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop.” His tone was gentle. I stopped. “Had you failed to find Oberon, I might have been able to convince the Luidaeg that if Simon being married to your mother made him your father, us being engaged made me your husband, and your fate could be my own. My anger isn’t because you did it. It’s because you did it without explaining to me what you were doing, or why, or how you hoped to have it undone. I know you’re accustomed to leaping first and looking during the fall, but I need you to tell me when you’re going to jump. I need you to give me the opportunity to jump with you.”

At some point during that speech, the car door had opened and closed again as Simon slid into the backseat alongside Quentin. Neither of them spoke. Both of them were smart enough to know that they wouldn’t enjoy my reaction if they did.

I took a breath, put my hand over Tybalt’s, and squeezed his fingers. “I’m sorry,” I said. It seemed silly to be having a seriousrelationship conversation with the King of Faerie less than twenty feet away—or maybe twenty miles; distance is always a little negotiable when the Luidaeg is involved. That didn’t mean we didn’t have to have it. Life went on. In the face of heroes and villains, gods and monsters, life went on, and I didn’t get to opt out of the hard parts unless I wanted to risk losing the pieces of it that really, truly mattered.

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