Page 19 of Silver and Lead (October Daye #19)

Tybalt appeared by my elbow so quickly that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d pulled his version of Nolan’s trick and traveled through the shadows to reach me. He took my arm, narrowed eyes on Arden. “My wife will not be set toward a dangerous goal.”

“Your wife is a hero of the realm,” said Arden, without warmth. “If her liege orders her, she must go.”

“My child is no hero.”

Shit. This was exactly the situation I had begged Arden to avoid.

I wanted to interrupt, to argue that I could make my own decisions, but I couldn’t.

Tybalt was right. The baby hadn’t agreed to anything I might decide or desire to do.

Arden was also right. I was a sworn knight, and my oaths didn’t leave any provisions for pregnancy, in part because when I’d taken them, the idea that I might get pregnant again—or be doing any sort of knightly duties active enough to put me in danger—had been laughable.

Changelings didn’t get knighted. If they somehow did, they certainly didn’t get sent out to serve their liege in any sort of non-decorative fashion.

“I’m not ordering her to take up arms,” said Arden.

“I hope the pretender will be found quickly and with no need for open conflict, but you may speak to the Duke Torquill directly, and see what promises you can coax from him. What he does and does not demand from his household is outside my influence, even as his Queen.”

“She’d be welcome in the Undersea,” said Simon. “Even if she was ordered to arms, my brother wouldn’t fault her for being down so deep that she couldn’t join the quest.”

“She is not going to the bottom of the sea,” said Tybalt.

“All right,” I said, putting my hands up.

“This is a lot of talk about what I am and am not going to do, and I think I get a say here. So: what I’m going to do right now is go home, get off my feet, and eat something.

May made spaghetti last night, and she has this amazing trick with carrots that keeps it from being too acidic for me to handle. ”

Arden was looking at me blankly. Good. That was the reaction I’d been hoping for, and was far better than argument or denial.

“What I’m going to do tomorrow is call Shadowed Hills and make sure my liege understands how pregnant I am, so any choices he makes about where I do or do not get asked to go will be made with total understanding of my situation.

And after that, I’ll do whatever’s required of me to fulfill my oaths.

But for right now, I’m going home. Is there any issue with that, Your Majesty? ”

“None at all,” said Arden, wisely enough. I was sure Tybalt was glaring daggers in her direction. “Your attendance has been noted and appreciated, Sir Daye.”

“Right back atcha,” I said, glancing to Simon.

“You’d be welcome if you wanted to swing by the house after you’re done here.

I’m sure May would love the chance to catch up with you in private.

” She was supposed to be at court, but I hadn’t seen her, and for all I knew, she’d managed to sneak out as soon as they stopped serving the pre-trial champagne.

Simon nodded, not committing to anything. I turned to Tybalt.

“Take me to the car?” I asked.

He’d been reluctant to take me on the Shadow Roads for weeks, but I had correctly guessed that his need to protect me would override his desire to keep me safe.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around me, then stepped backward into the shadow formed by a cluster of people.

I caught and held my breath, and the floor fell away as we both dropped onto the Shadow Roads.

Everything there was darkness and cold, although I liked to think the cold was less deep than it had been the first time I stepped foot there.

The Shadow Roads would never love me, but I had traveled them extensively, both with Tybalt and on my own, and their King loved me.

Surely that was enough to buy me a little grace?

Tybalt swung me up into his arms with a small oof of effort, then started running.

He didn’t run as fast as he had before I was pregnant, which I assumed was less about my weight than it was about the desire not to trip and drop me.

I wasn’t going to argue. On the Shadow Roads, I couldn’t argue, because I couldn’t catch my breath enough to try.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and tried to focus on something other than the growing ache in my lungs.

At least we weren’t going far. In a matter of seconds, he was stepping out of the shadows, back into the wavery light of the streetlights around the parking lot.

He paused long enough to glance around and be sure that we were alone before swinging me to my feet, keeping his hands on my upper arms until I had my footing back.

Only then did he let go and step back, looking at me with the cool superciliousness that I had come to learn meant he was truly uncomfortable.

He’d been a King of Cats for so long, watching his back for challenges to the crown, that he no longer felt safe looking truly upset outside of his own home.

“What are you not telling me?” he asked.

I wiped the ice out of my eyelashes, unsticking them enough to let me blink at him. I was stalling for time and we both knew it. “I already said we needed to talk when we get home.”

“I might prefer to have the conversation here.”

“And I might refuse,’” I replied.

“You’re not easing my discomfort.” A branch cracked in the trees behind him, and he whipped around, posture going defensive. “We’re too exposed here. We’ll continue this conversation in the car.”

“You’re going to stay bipedal in the car?

That’s weird. Why are you being weird?” Tybalt was born centuries before cars existed, and had never quite become comfortable with motor vehicles.

Our compromise when I needed to take the car somewhere was usually him riding in feline form, curled up on the passenger seat with his head down on his paws.

It meant he couldn’t wear a seatbelt, but I didn’t mind.

If we got into an accident, a cat would be much more prepared to weather the impact than a human man would have been.

Tybalt hissed through his teeth, holding up one hand to signal me to silence, and kept staring at the point in the woods where the cracking noise had originated.

I moved closer to him, wishing I had more than just the shell knife I’d received from the Luidaeg.

If something was about to attack us, I’d be practically defenseless—a single blade shorter than my index finger wasn’t going to do much to keep me safe.

I mean, I guess I could bleed on whoever it was until they got disgusted and went away, but that didn’t seem like the most effective way to protect myself, and Tybalt would probably have a panic attack if I tried it.

There was another crack from the trees, and then a familiar voice called, “Peace, friend. I approach in good faith.”

I stepped up even with Tybalt, blinking again. “Simon?” I asked.

“Indeed so,” he replied, stepping out of the trees and into the parking lot. “Queen Windermere asked her brother to bring me to the tree line but not beyond, for fear of human backpackers seeing us appear. I didn’t want to sneak up on you. I prefer my internal organs on the inside.”

Tybalt took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “Master Lorden,” he said, offering Simon a shallow bow. “I apologize for my heightened wariness.”

“No need,” said Simon, smile small but sincere. “Any apologies for your overprotection are between yourself and October. But when Amy was pregnant, I was terrified. Both times.” He paused then, a complicated expression crossing his face. “No, I…”

“You remember her being pregnant with me, even though you weren’t there in the real world,” I said, understandingly. “It’s all right, Simon. I still see the echoes, too.”

“Ah.” He looked relieved. “With August, I knew both she and the baby would likely recover from any trouble they might stumble into, but with October, there were no such guarantees. I begged her to remain in the tower, to let me wait upon her hand and foot like the queen she deserved to be treated as.”

“I take it from the fact that you’re telling me this that she didn’t listen,” said Tybalt dryly.

“Not as such,” he said. “She continued to go about her business right up until her delivery. To travel and practice blood magic, and to generally behave as herself. And you know what happened?”

“What?” I asked.

“She had two healthy babies, as different as dusk and dawn, but each one perfect.” His lips twitched like he was trying to fight back a smile. “It’s a good lesson to have learnt, since I’m quite sure that if I were to try the same with Dianda, she would have my hands.”

Tybalt blinked. “Your lady wife is expecting?”

“Our family is expecting a child, yes,” said Simon.

“Dianda’s going to be ever so angry at me for letting it slip, but October knows, and there’s no sense in seeding secrets where they don’t belong.

She’s as far along as October, but far larger.

Given my own birth, I’ve dared hope the explanation for her size might be twins.

We have a court healer at the knowe in Saltmist, but she refuses to say one way or the other.

We’ll know when Dianda’s been delivered. ”

On the whole, Faerie was a lot less obsessed with things like knowing a baby’s gender before they were born—possibly because some combinations of descendant lines meant “how many limbs will the baby have” was a substantially more relevant question.

But when you can decorate a nursery with a snap of your fingers, having a sonogram to influence your color choices can seem irrelevant.