Danny was waiting in the parking lot. Sylvester really had known that I’d be leaving. One of the Barghests was sitting in the front passenger seat, panting amiably. I slid into the back. Danny looked up and smiled, catching my eyes in the mirror.

“Long time no see, hey, Daye?”

“Hey, Danny.” I closed my eyes. “Wake me when we get there, okay?”

“You got it.”

We pulled up in front of the Luidaeg’s house a little more than an hour later. Danny was true to his word and didn’t wake me until we were parked at the front of the Luidaeg’s alley. The Barghest followed him out of the car when he climbed out to hug me good-bye, hopping and slobbering on us like the corgi it utterly failed to resemble. I leaned down to scratch its ears, and it washed my face thoroughly with a raspy tongue.

“This one’s Iggy,” said Danny, proudly. “He’s almost house-trained already.”

“You must be so proud.” I straightened, offering him a small smile. “Open roads, Danny. It’s been fun.”

“Come see the kennels next weekend, and that’s an order,” he said, picking Iggy up under one arm and climbing back into the cab. I waved as he drove away, then turned to head for the Luidaeg’s door.

It opened before I had the chance to knock. “I expected you hours ago.”

“Sorry. I had to get a few things.”

The Luidaeg glanced at the scabbard on my shoulder. “Is that Sylvester’s sword?”

“Yeah.”

“He was always a bit of a sap.” She looked to my face, studying me. There were dark circles around her eyes. She was tired, and if I could see it, she was too tired. Would she have the strength to do what I needed her to do? “You’re planning to do the hero thing, aren’t you?”

“I am. Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” She shrugged. “It’s all right; I expect it from my father’s children. I just hoped you’d be different. You realize you’re asking me to help you kill my brother?”

I nodded. “I do. I’m sorry.”

“Why should I?”

“Because someone has to,” I said, quietly. “And he broke the rules.”

The Luidaeg looked at me for a long moment before she nodded. “You’re clever sometimes. You sure as hell don’t get that from your mother. Come inside.” She turned and walked into the darkness. I followed. What else was I supposed to do?

She led me to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a jar with a tablespoon’s worth of white liquid gleaming like liquid diamonds in the bottom. Putting the jar down on the counter, she pulled a rusty knife out of the sink, saying, “The things I do for you.” Then she brought the knife down across her wrist in one hard slashing motion.

I winced. The Luidaeg gritted her teeth and turned her arm upside down, bleeding into the jar until the white was filled with crimson streaks. The liquids didn’t seem to blend, but swirled together instead, like a gory candy cane, all diamond and ruby death.

When the jar was halfway full she pulled her arm away and tied a towel around it, cursing under her breath. Not looking at me, she said, “Drink it.”

“What will it do?” I took the jar, looking at its contents, and hesitated. Call me paranoid, but the blood of a Firstborn is powerful stuff. I wanted to know before I signed.

“Do? Nothing much.” She laughed mercilessly. “Just put you on the Blood Road. It’s the last one open to you as you are. And, Toby, you can’t back out of this one. No candles. No rescues.” The Luidaeg sounded almost pleading. “Change your mind. Leave him alone. Live.”

“Is Katie all right?” I kept my eyes on the jar, watching the liquid sparkle.

The Luidaeg was silent for a long while before she said, “No, she’s not.”

“Will killing him help her?”

“October—”

“Will killing him help her?”

She sighed. “It might. If he dies, his hold on her will loosen, even if it doesn’t break entirely. Without the interference, I may be able to repair the damage he did.”

“Then I can’t change my mind.” Was I willing to die for a single human girl?

My daughter’s blood was too thin to require she face the Changeling’s Choice, and that makes her a single human girl. Yes, I was. For a single human girl, and for all the children that hadn’t been saved . . . and for the sake of all the ones who should never be forced to need saving.

“All right, Toby. You have one way out, once you go. If you can kill him, that should be enough to pay the toll, and you’ll come back. If you can’t . . . the Blood Road has costs.”

“Him or me.”

She nodded. Her eyes were human brown and deeply shadowed. She looked tired. “Him or you,” she confirmed.

I offered her a smile, raised the jar, and drank. The liquid tasted like hot blood and cold salt water, somehow mixed without blending. I was almost expecting the kickback from the Luidaeg’s blood, but that didn’t really prepare me for it. Nothing could.

The Luidaeg was born before most of the world learned to measure time. She watched the rise and fall of empires while she held her mother’s hand and laughed. I didn’t get memories—thank Titania, because I might have broken if I had—but I got the sudden crushing feeling of time, endless time slamming into me as the world flashed bloodred and salt white. I tasted blood, but I didn’t know whether it was hers or mine or the blood of time itself, burning and bitter on my tongue.

Then time ended and the colors faded into blackness.

And I was falling.

THIRTY

THE FOREST WAS FULL OF SIGHS. There was no wind, but the branches bent against each other, whispering of pain and blood and loss. I was back in Acacia’s wood, and that was fine with me; she was the only thing in Blind Michael’s lands that I’d be sorry to leave behind. I turned, trying to get my bearings. I’d been standing in the wood when the darkness cleared, already awake. The Blood Road had been the least painful passage of the three. That was probably because it was supposed to have the most painful ending.

Something was wrong. The darkness around the trees had deepened, and the underbrush was wilting. The wood had been the one place in these lands that felt alive, and now it felt like it was dying. “Acacia?” I called. There was no answer.