The Winter Long by Seanan McGuire Read Free Book Online

there but Simon and me. I was awake, Oberon save and keep me.
    â€œThere it is. Very good.” Simon held up two mugs. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
    â€œNo, that’s okay.” I dug my nails into my palms, fighting the urge to grab a knife from the dish drainer and start screaming for him to get out of my house. “I’m not a tea drinker. I keep it around for company.”
    â€œOh, yes. You’re more of a coffee girl, if I remember correctly.”
    I opened my mouth to say that no, I wasn’t even drinking much coffee these days, and paused, eyeing him. “You’re not even trying, are you?”
    â€œExcuse me?” Simon turned to face me. He had a squeeze bottle of honey in one hand. It was shaped like a bear. Somehow, that struck me as unutterably hysterical.
    â€œI said, you’re not even trying. You haven’t done
anything
to make me believe that you’re Sylvester. You can drop the illusion,
Simon
. I know who you are.”
    He blinked, disappointment flashing in his eyes. “I never claimed to be my brother, you know,” he said. “I actually thought you were inviting
me
inside.”
    â€œI’d kiss the Luidaeg before I’d do that.”
    â€œAnd she’d let you, assuming the stories are true.”
    â€œWhat stories?” I asked, unable to stop myself.
    â€œThe ones that say you’ve finally decided to start finding allies, learn your place in this world, and grow into your potential.” Simon dropped a teabag into his cup before taking the kettle off the stove and pouring water over it. There hadn’t been time for the water to boil—the stove wasn’t even on—but it came out hot and steaming all the same. “It’s been a great relief. I’d been worried that you were going to break your mother’s heart.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about? Don’t talk about my mother. You don’t have any right to talk about her.”
    â€œOctober, believe me. If anyone is allowed to talk about Amandine, it’s me.” He added a generous amount of honey to his tea, releasing the illusion that had made him look human at the same time. The smell of smoke and rotten oranges filled the room. The change did nothing to make him look less like his brother. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Well? Will you do me the same courtesy?”
    â€œI don’t want to do anything for you,” I said, through gritted teeth. I released my illusion all the same. It was a small thing, and antagonizing him wasn’t going to do me any good.
    For a moment—less than a second, but long enough for me to see—his expression changed, arrogance and calculating coldness turning into something that looked almost like longing. The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and he nodded. “Yes, this is much more what you should have been from the start. I’m sorry, my dear, but Amy did you no favors when she spun the balance of your blood from gold into straw on the wheel of her powers. It seems you’ve done better for yourself, now that you’ve taken the spindle in your own two hands.”
    â€œYou know, as metaphors go, you probably couldn’t have chosen a much creepier one.”
    â€œSometimes ‘accuracy’ and ‘creepiness’ go hand in hand.” Simon sipped his tea, made a face, and added more honey. “You’re surprisingly calm. From the reports I’d heard, I expected you to attack me as soon as you realized who I was.”
    â€œI’ve learned some self-control,” I said. “I can’t beat you. I know that.”
    â€œSo you’re giving up in the face of a greater adversary?”
    When he put it like that, it stung. That didn’t make it the wrong decision. “You haven’t attacked me yet. I figured I’d wait for you to make the first move.”
    Simon sighed. Then, slowly, he put his tea and the