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On his own, Tybalt kept a respectful distance from the Sea Witch. That had been working far less well in recent years than in the decades before that, which was hardly the only area of his life on which October had had such an effect.
Tonight, however, the summons was for him alone. Unusual. Not unheard-of.
He slipped quietly out of the shadows, a page from October's book - or, rather, an extra-large box of Phish Food - under his arm, and walked the distance he could not otherwise cross to the Luidaeg's door.
She opened the door as he was reaching to knock, her cute face slightly irritated. But the sight of him resulted in a nod, and she spun about, heading inside.
Tybalt's mind tried to integrate the way he had seen this passage once, clean and brightly lit, to how it was now - its usual appearance. His eyes could discern the creatures that crunched under his light step, sound and sensation that he promptly ignored. He couldn't spot the illusion once they reached the Luidaeg's living room, either, and his eyes caught her smirk as she watched him sideways.
"You won't see it, you know. The illusion."
He could have denied that he was looking. He did not like lying. "I didn't think I would. But learning from a master..."
She snorted. He couldn't help agreeing with her - his magic differed from hers too widely for any lessons to be applicable without expert tailoring. Which he could do himself, at his age, if he had the basics, but he could not get those from spotting edges of illusions that were too tightly woven to be in his ken at all.
As means of changing the topic, Tybalt held out the ice-cream. Her eyebrows rose. "Picking up bad habits from Toby already? Bribery is supposed to be unethical."
His lips twitched up. Since when did any of them actually go with 'ethical,' anyway?
Anyone other than October, that is.
Who was not, of course, above bribing the Luidaeg, so he was fine.
"Sit."
"Of course." He did, sprawling easily over one side of the couch. The pose was much easier to arrange himself in when he knew his clothes weren't actually going to get unknowable stains.
"We'll see."
She took out a spoon, sprinkled salt over the top of the ice-cream, and started eating, her pale eyes thoughtful on him.
"I have noticed that Toby's decided to take a step back on her way to madness. Ignorant or uncaring of the direction that is, as usual, other than in your arms."
That was a rather precise summation of the situation, overall. It did not surprise him; she had been seeing plenty of October and enough of him. She must have seen it coming. And October was the one both most and least acquainted with Amandine among the three of them. The one who suffered the worst. The one that observers suspected might stride in that direction, sword in hand and everything, one day.
Tybalt did not bother confirming what the Luidaeg already knew. "How can I be of service?"
The facade that he was stronger, the king, was long gone between them, if it ever was there. The Cait and the Sea Witch did not have old fights to bridge, old enmities to puff his chest to cover. He did not make demands here. He might, in the court of the Lady of Mists. Not in the home of Maeve's daughter.
"I know cats don't settle things quite this way, but," the Luidaeg shrugged, then leaned forward and the casual motion transformed into something else, large, terrifying,, dark and deep as the ocean, "if you hurt her on purpose, without good reason, you will regret the moment you first mewled. Understood?"
The King of the Bay Area Court of Cats should not be threatened by a cute-button nosed girl in coveralls. He shouldn't feel afraid by something as simple as this. And he might not have if he doubted for a second that she meant - and could actually accomplish - every single word she'd said. It was not a threat he needed to show fear for, however. He lived in that fear. And also the fear that, one day, what they all did for October wouldn't be enough.
"If I hurt her on purpose, without reason that she might, in time, accept, I already will be," he responded with a calm that was all resignation and pain at the prospect and no defiance. "If I see her hopeless, I probably will be in a worse place than anything you can do to me."
The chilling thrum of shadowy power she had wrapped about herself did not release. "Do not be so dramatic. You know better."
He did. The knowledge did not change what he'd said, the defiant tilt of his chin.
The Luidaeg snorted. "I should have known she'd finally meet somebody as stubborn as she is. It'll do her good."
Tybalt's eyebrows rose, lazy, not at all uncertain of having heard the jab at O'Dell, the absence of his rival mildly comforting. Connor had been a good man, better than his wife had deserved. But not good enough for October.
The Sea Witch shrugged again, leaning back and letting the room lighten up to its customary dingy spookiness, then made a shooing gesture with her fingers.
"Go. Saturday night, eleven p.m., the fish restaurant near the South corner of the Park," their park. The one where they had all lost friends, for a while or for good, "and make sure Toby's with you unless she's found something to try to kill her again by then."
Oh, she was taking them out to dinner. That was so absolutely not out of the ordinary at all.
Then, again, maybe it wasn't out of the ordinary, not between a Firstborn and her Niece.
He rose easily, greeting her with a graceful bow. "My lady."
It was the Luidaeg's turn for a lip-twitch, a spoonful of ice-cream in her mouth. "Some day, you will run into somebody who's not fond of manners with a sharp ironic edge."
"I've had no complaints."
"... no, you wouldn't have. Go."
He went.
For October, he picked a different flavor. It had coffee and rum, and he didn't take the Shadow Roads on his way there, so it was softening by the time he reached her house. By the time they reached the point that he had in mind, it was perfectly half-melted to pour a scoop over her nipple, watching her face twist with the pain-pleasure, watch it slide down the side of her breast, then lick it off, aiming for and receiving a gasp. Perfectly half-melted for what she did on him, too, until they were resting, too tired and sated for consciousness, through the dawn.
There would be plenty enough time to discuss dinner plans. Later.