Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel (47 page)

“I’d like more than just a minute, if I may,” said Tybalt. I looked to my left. He was there, watching me with a guarded anxiousness in his eyes. “I assume you were waiting for me?”

“You assume right. What took you so long?”

“I had affairs to settle. Raj was, understandably, upset. He sends his regrets and promises to return here soon. As for the rest of the Court…” Tybalt clucked his tongue. “I doubt any of those who remain will mirror Samson’s folly any time soon. Those who were loyal to him have left my lands—and no, I didn’t kill them. I simply
made them understand that it was time to seek residence elsewhere.”

“That’s reassuring.” I took another sip of coffee, studying Tybalt. He was casually dressed, in jeans and a dark T-shirt that matched the stripes in his hair. He could have been anyone.

He was the only person I wanted to see.

He saw me looking and said, “I didn’t feel the need to dress up for you.” He sounded slightly abashed, as though this was the wrong answer.

It was the best answer I’d ever heard. “I’m not exactly dressed for the ball, here,” I said, waving a hand to indicate my attire. “The best I can do is tell you that I’ve taken a shower since the last time you saw me. Several, actually.”

“Decadent,” he said, with a small, uncertain smile.

I took a deep breath, putting my coffee down on the step. It was now or never, and I was definitely not in the mood for “never.” Standing, I took a step toward Tybalt and offered my hands. He hesitated for only a second before he took them.

“You said you loved me,” I said. “Did you mean it?”

“With all my heart. October—”

“Do you know how long I’ve been telling myself you hated me? Or how hard it’s been to keep believing it? You’d do things, these amazing, insane things, like stealing me back from Blind Michael or breaking me out of jail, and I’d say, ‘Oh, he just wants to pay his debts,’ or, ‘Oh, who knows what a cat is thinking?’” My voice broke a little on the last word. Dammit.

Tybalt’s eyes widened, hope kindling in their depths. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying—oak and ash, Tybalt, I’m saying I’m in love with you, I’ve been in love with you for a while, and the only way I was dealing with it was by not dealing with it, ever.” I shook my head. “I knew I’d never have you, so I told myself I didn’t want you, and if you don’t really want
me
, if you want some idea of me, or just want to chase and not catch, I’ll understand, but this has been
a hard week, Tybalt, this has been such a hard week. I’ve been waiting for you to come here, because I need you to tell me. Okay? Just tell me what you want.”

“Oh, October. Toby.
My
Toby.” He pulled one hand from mine, reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear. His fingers were shaking. That was what I focused on, more than anything else. His fingers were shaking. “Do you think I’m cruel enough to do that to you?”

I sniffled. “No,” I admitted.

“Thank Oberon,” he said, and pulled me close, and kissed me.

We were still standing there when the sun rose, our bodies pressed so close together that we might as well have been one person. Dawn ripped the air out of the world, but I already wasn’t breathing. Tybalt kissed me through the sunrise. It wasn’t until I smelled the ashy remains of dying magic that I realized we had no illusions on. I broke the kiss, pulling away.

Tybalt blinked, looking faintly bewildered. I tapped the tip of one pointed ear. “Ah,” he said, nodding his understanding. He couldn’t keep the regret from his voice as he asked, “Will I see you tonight?”

“No.”

“What?” His earlier bewilderment had nothing on the look he gave me now.

I smiled, taking his hands and pulling him onto the front step as I opened the front door. “You’ll see me right now.”

Tybalt’s laughter as he followed me inside was one of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard. I shut the door on the morning, leaving my long-cooled cup of coffee outside as I led the King of Cats through my silent house. Nothing stays the same for long, not in Faerie, not in the human world, not anywhere, but some things are worth starting, just like some things are worth fighting for. Li Qin would have Dreamer’s Glass. Chelsea would have her parents and a chance at a relatively normal life, under the circumstances. Maybe that was
all Tybalt and I would have—a chance—but as he put his hands around my waist and pulled me closer, I found I didn’t care.

Sometimes a chance is more than enough. Sometimes that’s all you need to have everything.