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I’d captured the pictures my client wanted without being seen by my target, and had dropped off the film in exchange for a lovely check,
I’m a changeling, which is a fancy way of saying “one of my parents was human, and one of them wasn’t.”
By this definition, Amandine is also a changeling.
To be fair, most people don’t talk back to the Luidaeg. She’s the eldest of Maeve’s remaining children,
My father made the Law to protect the Roane and others like them from the cruel hands of Titania’s brood, who would have slain all the children of Maeve purely to make their mother smile.”
“Liar’s daughter, come to turn back the tide. That’s what they called you.
May first had a lot of power and significance once, back in the days of the Three. There was a time when they’d formed a stable triad, keeping Faerie safe and secure. But something had changed. Whatever it was had happened early on, before changelings existed, before the Firstborn had children of their own, and it had resulted in Oberon splitting his time between two very different Courts. That was when the Divided Courts earned their name. Starting with their split, on May first, Oberon would kiss Maeve good-bye and return to Titania’s bower. On November first, he’d repeat the trip in
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It’s not that I don’t care how I look. It’s more that I’ve learned that the more attention I pay to my appearance, the more likely I am to wind up ruining something I actually like when I get covered in blood.
Tybalt’s smile was a knife drawn in a darkened room.
There are very few fae left in the former Kingdom of Oak and Ash, which consists of most of the land around the mortal city of New York.
Count Lorden, you may know her better by her given name: Amphitrite, Firstborn daughter of Titania and Oberon, Mother of the Merrow.”
Still, Pete was a decent hostess, and she hadn’t shown any signs of transforming us into anything unpleasant, which was about all I asked for in one of the Firstborn. My standards may be low, but hey. They’ve earned it.
“We didn’t know at first,” said the Luidaeg. “My mother wasn’t a megalomaniacal bitch who thinks of her kids as useful pieces in a century-spanning game of chess, but that didn’t make her a great communicator, and sometimes she’d make children out of random stuff when Dad was
practice.” “Yes, but a T-shirt wouldn’t have been nearly as flattering to your figure.” I stopped walking in order to fix him with a baleful eye. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you seriously going to stand there and talk about my tits when things are this messed up?” “Be reasonable, October; I could have been talking about your ass.” Tybalt looked at me haughtily. “My interests are far more versatile than you give me credit for.”
Tybalt makes a joke that is actually funny.
“My lady possesses a filthy mouth and a creative mind when it comes to describing our forebears.” “Too much information,” muttered Quentin.
That’s the real connection between folk music and the fae: it’s easier to whistle than heavy metal.
I was not going to forgive Titania for what she’d done. Not then. Not ever.” I started to speak. She wasn’t done. “She was the one who told the sister I can’t name to put those knives into the hands of my children’s killers. She was the one who wanted to see the children of Maeve wiped from the world. It’s her fault my babies are dead. And I won’t forgive her. I can’t forgive her. Not while she still binds me, because she forbade me to be a liar, and it was in honesty that I pledged to hate her until the stars went cold, and it’s with honesty that I hate her now.”
“Aoife had a sister, born at the same time. Aine. And Aine didn’t like people touching her. Ever. At all. Aine wanted her own descendant line, but the thought of getting pregnant, of being with someone in that way, for long enough to conceive, was repugnant. So she and Aoife pooled their thoughts and their strength, and they wove a cloak of raven’s feathers to match the cloaks of swan’s feathers that Aoife’s children wore. They made the Ravens.
This is the second case I know of where one of the Fae progenitors had children without sex. The other was the pixies, who were made from droplets of Titania's blood.
“You did well, Cal,” I said, trying to emulate Uncle Tybalt’s imperious tone.
My mother—may she rest peacefully among the night-haunts—named me Rajiv in honor of her father, a man I never knew.
Although, if Uncle Tybalt and October were anything to judge by, adults liked to blame everything teenagers did on their hormones while still being more than half-ruled by their own hormones. It was another case of “do as I say, not as I do,” and the fact that it was funny didn’t make it less annoying.
Seanan McGuire lives and works in Washington State, where she shares her somewhat idiosyncratic home with her collection of books, creepy dolls, and enormous blue cats. When not writing--which is fairly rare--she enjoys travel, and can regularly be found any place where there are cornfields, haunted houses, or frogs. A Campbell, Hugo, and Nebula Award-winning author, Seanan's first book (Rosemary and Rue, the beginning of the October Daye series) was released in 2009, with more than twenty books across various series following since. Seanan doesn't sleep much.
