“Crystal,” she snapped. “I’ll see myself out.”
I didn’t answer. I just watched her go.
The sound of the door slamming was as loud as the sound of a chain being snapped. I stayed where I was for at least ten minutes, waiting for her to come back and start looking for a way to fix this. A way to put that little girl back the way she was supposed to be, and start doing the things that she should have been doing all along. Faerie never creates anything without a purpose, and that includes the Dóchas Sidhe.
Amy never came back.
Seven years; that’s how long I waited before I went to see her, before I went to meet her little girl. And the worst of it is that now, all I can do is wait. I’ll wait seven more years, and seven more after that, seven times seven and seventy more, if that’s what it takes, until a child of Amandine’s line steps up and does what’s needed doing for centuries. Mother save me, but I’m starting to be afraid that Eira’s going to win. October should have been our best chance. And I waited seven years.
Whatever comes next is on my head as much as it’s on Amy’s. I will never forgive her for that. But whatever comes next . . . it isn’t going to be mine to do. Whatever comes next is October’s.
I hope she’s strong enough for what’s coming.
Seanan McGuire, Chimes at Midnight
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