Firtha was the youngest of the Luidaeg’s daughters, and when she died, her killer flensed the skin from her body and used it to create a line of Selkies. At some point not too long after that, the skin passed back into the Luidaeg’s keeping, and she’d kept it tucked away until my own daughter, who’d been human at the time, had needed it to save her life.
Because Firtha’s skin had been unworn for so long, she’d remained trapped inside it in a sense, haunting her own remains. I wasn’t entirely clear on how it worked, and neither were May or the Luidaeg, who would have known if anyone did, but she’d been there for Gillian since the moment the skin of the Luidaeg’s daughter was draped around my daughter’s shoulders.
“I would have been deeply gratified if, in my darker days, someone else could have been with me,” said Tybalt, and took a bite of cake. “I’ve never much cared for being alone.”
“I thought cats were solitary,” said Gillian.
“A foul untruth,” said Tybalt. “The domestic cat is a social creature, preferring to live in large colonies and family groups. This has made your mother, with her fondness for bringing home every stray that crosses her path, absolutely perfect for me. Wherever October goes, she builds a colony around herself, and I am privileged to benefit from her labors.”
Gillian looked directly at him for what felt like the first time, and I realized I couldn’t remember whether the two of them had ever actually been able to sit down and have a conversation before.
“You’re not my stepdad, you know,” she said.
Okay, guess not.
“Perhaps not,” said Tybalt. “And I hope you will not be angry if I say I don’t mind that fact.”
She blinked at him, then scowled. “Why? You one of those guys who thinks that when he marries a woman who has a kid, the kid should just magically disappear?”
“Cake is nice,” said Quentin. “I sure do like cake. Yay for cake.”
“No,” said Tybalt. “I appreciate your presence at my wedding more than I can possibly say. You are very important to your mother, and your absence would have been a small but marked blemish upon a day intended to be perfect.”
“Armed insurrectionists attacked your wedding!” protested Chelsea, having wandered over with her cake to stand behind Raj’s chair.
“And I know the woman I’ve married,” said Tybalt. “Had I not been confident the world would provide some sort of chaotic complication, I might have felt compelled to synthesize one, simply to guarantee her comfort.”
“He’s not wrong,” I said, still watching Gillian closely. “I do better when formal events involve a certain amount of screaming.”
“If you say so,” said Gillian. She kept her eyes on Tybalt. “I’ve already got a father, and a mother, and an October, and then there’s Liz and Firtha. I’m all full up on people telling me what to do.”
“Understood,” he said. “Still, for your mother’s sake, it would be pleasant if there were space in your life for our branch of your family, strange and convoluted as it seems to be. We would welcome your presence in our home.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” she said, looking down at her cake. The admission sounded like it pained her.
“What you were told about your mother’s motivations—”
“Was untrue, yeah, I know that.” She glanced up again. “The woman who raised me is a big ol’ liar who told me lots of things that weren’t true because she thought she could ‘protect’ me from Faerie if she just made sure I didn’t know it existed. I get that. I still love her. She raised me. When I had the flu in third grade so bad I couldn’t get out of bed for a week, she’s the one who held my hair and brought me soup. When I had my first crush, she’s the one who told me it was going to be okay. You don’t get over that because someone you’ve spent your whole life hating says ‘whoops, sorry, she lied, she’s the villain and I’m the good guy.’ ”
Since that was almost poetically relevant to my own relationship with Simon and Sylvester Torquill, I didn’t say anything, just swallowed the contents of my wine glass in one swift gulp. Gillian finally switched her gaze to me.
“But I guess maybe it’s time I find out why she was so determined to keep me away from you. So if you really want me to try, I’ll try.”
I blinked, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, much less speak or swallow. My daughter being willing to have a relationship with me again, however tenuous, was more important than all the wedding gifts in the world. When the words refused to come, I nodded vigorously, aware of Tybalt setting a hand on my shoulder.
“I think we would all appreciate that,” he said.
The sound of someone whacking a spoon against a piece of stemware dragged the entire table’s attention back to the buffet, where High King Aethlin Sollys, the second most important man in the room, was holding his wine glass aloft, waiting for the room to focus on him and quiet down.
Bit by bit, it did, with everyone watching him. And to his credit, he bore up under the attention of two of the Firstborn, as well as Oberon himself, remarkably well. It probably helped that he didn’t know Oberon was looking at him.
“Seven blessings for a bride,” he said. “Seven blessings for a new household formed in love and revelry. Sir October Daye, Knight of Lost Words, sworn to Shadowed Hills, Hero in the Mists, do you attend upon me?”
The knot was still in my throat, stopping up my words. I nodded again, and Quentin called, with the strength that only a Banshee could, “She does.”
“Then if you’ve been attending to your guests as you should, you’ll have received your first six blessings already, and here is mine,” he said. “May you always have open roads and kind fires, and all the winds to guide you. May the fires of the hearth only warm, never scorch, and the waters of the well soothe your thirst, but never steal your breath away. May you be happy.”
Tybalt put his arm around me, pulling me close. My daughter was willing to try again, and my squire was by my side, and all my family was nearby.
“May you be healthy.”
This wasn’t an ending, and it didn’t feel like one, but it was a culmination in many ways. It was a homecoming. And it was time, finally, to let myself be happy.
“May all of Faerie welcome you wherever you go.”
I turned to Tybalt, smiling, and kept smiling as he leaned in and kissed me.
Happiness didn’t sound so bad.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Seanan McGuire is a Hugo, Nebula, and Locus award-winning author. October Daye is her first urban fantasy series, and InCryptid her second, both of which have put her on the New York Times bestseller list. She is the first person to be nominated for five Hugo Awards in a single year.
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When Sorrows Come Page 45