Page 46 of Silver and Lead (October Daye #19)

“Seeking protection implies that you’ll need to be protected from something,” she said. “I’m going to stay right here inside Goldengreen, and I’m not going to need to be protected from anything within these walls. I’m good. Don’t waste your magic on me.”

“All right,” said the Luidaeg. She looked at the four of us. “Eight it is.”

Turning back to her two floating braids of blood, she brought her hands together in front of her, making a scissoring motion with the first two fingers of each hand.

The ribbons split into four equal parts each, and a flick of her fingers sent them floating over to us.

They wrapped around our wrists, unsettlingly warm against our skin, drew themselves tight enough to be snug but not tight enough to be uncomfortable, and popped like soap bubbles.

The blood fell away in a red haze, leaving bracelets of willow wood behind.

I raised my hand, blinking at the bracelet circling my wrist. “This is your protection?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, looking pleased with herself.

“It’s been a while since I’ve tried to blood-bind a Glastig, but this is good work, and it’ll hold.

Bucer, as long as you’re wearing those bracelets, your magic will be sluggish, slow to respond.

It will still rise if you call it, but it won’t be swift or easy.

You’ll have to work for it. Most importantly, you won’t be able to use the excuse so common with your kind, that you didn’t know what you were doing.

The world will be free to continue as it likes, uncontrolled by your desires. ”

Bucer gaped at her, then began to sputter. She snorted. “Would you prefer I had stripped your powers from you completely? Because I could still do that, if that works better for you. It would please me enough to count as a selfish action, and I wouldn’t even have to charge you.”

Bucer stopped sputtering and looked sullenly away.

“What else do they do?” I asked, raising one hand to the level of my chin to make sure she saw the bracelet clearly.

“Good question,” said the Luidaeg. “They’re going to slow your magic, too—try to avoid mortal wounds while you have these on.

I don’t think you remember how to be hurt the way the rest of us do.

But they’ll also grant a measure of extra resistance against magic that might change or control your mind.

Glastig, Siren, any of the manipulators will be held at bay for so long as you wear those.

You have two each; they can be separated without voiding the protection.

But if any of you removes both bracelets they’ll return to the blood that bound them, and be lost. Share, but not to the point of risking your own safety. ”

I nodded. “Understood.” I understood that she’d given us more than she charged us for, probably in part by winding the cost up in selfishness.

We couldn’t give our protection away, but we could share half of it without risk to ourselves, which made it twice as valuable. I’d be able to keep Tybalt safe.

“Good.” The Luidaeg looked at the spotless floor.

There wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere around us.

“Blood and water are the same, and flowers thrive on both. Remember that the divisions between us are as false as they are true. They always have been. Now if we’re done here, I have some hungry petitioners on their way to my lair, and I still have a job to do in Faerie. ”

“All right,” I said.

“You’ll call me when you know where everything is, won’t you?” It was barely a request.

I frowned. “Luidaeg, do you want Goldengreen returned to you? I think I’m obligated to give it to Arden if she asks, but a Firstborn outranks a queen.”

“I do, only because I think the hope chests should be back in the hands that were intended to hold them,” said the Luidaeg.

“They hold no temptation for my siblings and me, or they shouldn’t, which is sometimes the same thing.

But no, in this case, I just want to know where the hope chest is, and where it’s been.

As to the other matter between us, we’ll finish that in private. ”

I swallowed. “Yes, we will,” I agreed.

Tybalt had already said that she could stand as godmother to our child, but announcing it in a room full of people—a room including Bucer of all people—felt fundamentally wrong.

The Luidaeg nodded, turning to Dean before she bowed ceremonially. “Count Lorden,” she said. “Please continue to keep your domain in peace and pleasure, and I’ll see you when next the tides command me here.”

She turned, walking out of the bloodless courtyard.

Whispers erupted from the trees around us, and I remembered for the first time since her arrival that we were not and had never been alone there: many members of Dean’s court had watched the whole scene play out.

I turned to look at them, and they stared at me, wide-eyed and pale.

The sea witch is a fact of life in the Mists.

She chose to settle here long ago, and she’s one of the only Firstborn whose situation didn’t allow her the luxury of disappearing into obscurity.

Most of the others could hide. She was compelled to tell the truth and share her power, no matter what else she chose to do, and so she could only go so far underground.

Everyone who lived in the Mists knew she existed, but most of the time we could dismiss her as the fae equivalent of an urban legend, someone whose reality would never truly impact us.

Having her appear in front of them in their home and perform acts of strange, near-impossible magic had to be disorienting as hell for people who weren’t normally confronted by her in such a direct, immediate way.

“Er,” I said. “Sorry, everyone. We’ll get out of your hair now. Quentin?”

Quentin, who had been looking at the bracelets on his wrists like he’d never seen anything like them before, raised his head. “Toby? Are you going home to make sure everyone is okay now?”

“Yeah, we are,” I said. “The bracelets are going to be a big help, since Bucer turns out to be an environmental contaminant when he’s stressed out.

Today’s been pretty damn stressful, and I doubt it’s going to get better from here.

He won’t be able to do that anymore. That should make things easier on the rest of us. ”

I walked back over to Quentin and the others, scrolling through Dean’s phone as I walked. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have Danny’s number saved. Why would he? The two of them had never spoken in my presence. I didn’t know if they’d ever even met.

I offered the phone back to him. “Appreciate the loan,” I said. “I should have things from here.”

“Do you have a plan ,” asked Marcia, “or is this going to be one of those fun ‘Toby rushes in and tries not to get herself killed’ situations? We should at least call Arden.”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B,” I said, sounding much calmer about the situation than I actually felt.

We were going to get two Daoine Sidhe out of my house, where the wards were keyed to me, and where I knew how to find all the weapons.

They had illusions and blood magic. That wasn’t enough to truly threaten the people they were—what?

Holding hostage? Deceiving? I didn’t have the vocabulary to truly explain what they were doing.

“As for calling Arden, no. I’m sorry, but not while Altair and her brother have our people.

If the two of us go in quietly, we can potentially get them back while they don’t expect us.

If we come in with a whole army, they’re going to see us, and they’re going to react badly.

We don’t know what kind of magic or weapons—or magic weapons—they have, and them reacting badly could get Tybalt and Raysel hurt.

” May too, technically, but May can’t really be hurt for very long.

She’s even more indestructible than I am.

Under normal circumstances, anyway. I glanced down at myself, thinking of the small shell knife that was currently my only weapon. “Hey, Dean, you got any weapons I can borrow?”

He sighed. “I was wondering whether you were going to remember the importance of self-defense,” he said. “Yes, we have some weapons you can borrow. Quentin, are you sure you don’t want to stay here while your knight runs off into certain doom?”

“I’m sure,” he said, sounding almost regretful. “I’m supposed to stay with her when she’s in danger, and back her up, and let her teach me how to survive in a bad situation.”

“How’s that working out so far?”

Quentin shrugged. “Well, I’m not dead yet, so it must be working pretty well so far,” he said.

I laughed. After a moment, the rest of them joined in—all except for Bucer, who crossed his braceleted arms and watched us with wary dismay, clearly not excited about whatever was going to happen next.

Which, to be fair, I wouldn’t have been excited about either, if I’d been in his place.

I wasn’t exactly excited myself, especially about the chance of getting into a fight while this pregnant—which I was going to avoid if at all possible—but I was going to do whatever I had to in order to get my family back.

We were all going to be okay. I wasn’t going to accept anything less.