The thought that she might have slapped him on the wrist for failing at his coup and released him to go home had simply never occurred to me. He’d tried to kill her. But he was working with her now, and he hadn’t been there when we’d taken her knowe. Her letting him go was the only thing that made sense, and it didn’t make sense at all.
And I didn’t have time to worry about what did or didn’t make sense right now. Too much was going on. As usual, Quentin’s phone was in his jacket pocket. He had a lock screen, but the day I can’t remember my squire’s combination is the day I tell him his training is finished. I keyed in the code, revealing a picture of him and Dean sitting on Dean’s private underground dock, their shoulders touching, neither of them in a human disguise. It was an adorable moment. I dismissed it with a sweep of my thumb.
“Dianda’s on her way. We won’t have to hold the scene for long.”
“Good.” Dianda was a natural disaster, but she was a natural disaster on our side. She would keep things together. I pulled up the address book on autopilot, dialed, raised the phone, and waited.
What time was it? We’d been running hard since the early morning. Was it afternoon yet? Were people going to be awake? The phone rang, and I held my breath, until there was a click, and Etienne’s familiar, somewhat puzzled voice said, “Hello? Who is this?”
“Etienne.” I closed my eyes. Maybe I should have called Arden. Maybe this was a matter for the Queen in the Mists. But I was tired, and I was scared, and I wanted my family. My real family, the one that had always been there for me. “It’s October. I . . . is Sylvester awake?”
“He could be.” Etienne’s tone turned gentle. “Bridget told me she saw you on campus this morning. She told me why. October, is . . .” His voice trailed off. It was clear he didn’t know how to ask the question, and that he wouldn’t have wanted to ask it if he could.
“I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “I’m in the false Queen’s knowe. The receiving hall. It’s currently open. Can you please get Sylvester and bring him here? I . . . I need him.”
There was a long pause. The last time I’d seen Sylvester Torquill was when I’d told him that his brother, Simon, had managed to escape from my custody. Sylvester was still my liege. He still held my loyalty, in more ways than one. But until I found Simon and brought him back, I didn’t feel like I’d earned the right to go home. Even bringing his niece back from the dead—a pretty impressive trick, if I do say so myself—hadn’t felt like enough.
Besides, January deserved some time with her uncle without me sniffing around the edges, trying to intrude. Where I went, chaos followed. They had the right to ask for better than that.
Etienne didn’t seem to share my opinion about keeping my distance. Without hesitation, he said, “Stay where you are. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.” The phone went dead. I lowered it, staring at the screen.
Then I raised it again. This time, I pulled up Walther’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Hello? Quentin?”
“October. Do you have the elf-shot cure mixed and ready to go?”
“Um.” He hesitated. “Yes? How much do you need?”
“Two doses. Quentin and May are down.”
He made a noise somewhere between a groan and a grim chuckle. “You know, I don’t know how much of that stuff it’s safe to take. You can’t keep running into arrows and expecting that nothing will go wrong.”
“Believe me, I’m aware. Sadly, they weren’t really consulted.”
“Got it. Where am I delivering the stuff?”
“I’ll send Tybalt to pick it up as soon as he has a free hand.” From the dais, Tybalt gave me a dubious look. I shrugged exaggeratedly. If he didn’t want to play courier service, he could . . . he could nothing. This was what I needed from him right now. “Okay?”
“Okay. Be careful, please. I can’t wake you all up.”
“Hopefully you won’t have to. Open roads.”
“Kind fires.”
I hung up the phone and tucked it back into Quentin’s pocket. When I straightened, Kennis was eyeing me oddly.
“What is that device?” she asked.
I smiled despite myself. “You’re going to really enjoy some of the advances in modern technology,” I said.
In the distance, a door banged open, followed by the sound of running feet. Kennis tensed, while Tybalt relaxed. I glanced back to the Baobhan Sith.
“You might want to hold very, very still, and keep your hands where people can see them,” I said. “The folks who are on their way don’t like it when they run into strangers covered in blood.”
“You’re covered in blood,” she said.
“Yes, but they know me.”
Dianda was the first into the hall, running remarkably well for a woman who only had legs when she really wanted them. She was wearing a thigh-length tunic, belted at the waist, and carrying a trident that looked like it had been designed to disembowel her enemies. Knowing her, it probably had been. Half a dozen Undersea soldiers were behind her, most of them the octopus-legged Cephali, although I spotted a few other Merrow.
Patrick, her Daoine Sidhe husband, brought up the rear, strolling while the rest of them rushed. He wasn’t here for combat. He was here to stop his wife before she killed anyone they were going to need later. It was nice to see someone looking so calm about the situation.
Dianda caught sight of me and pivoted, stalking in my direction. “Where?” she demanded.
“Over there.” I pointed toward the unconscious body of the false Queen. “You can’t keep her. Arden’s going to want to handle sentencing, whatever that’s going to mean. But you can kick her a few times, if it looks like she’s going to wake up.”
Several of the Cephali had surrounded Kennis—people with the lower bodies of octopuses and the eight associated arms could do a remarkable amount of surrounding—and were watching her closely, their spears and short swords trained on her. To her credit, she was holding very still and keeping her hands visible, as I had requested. Spending four decades locked in a burnt-out house seemed to have instilled a strong sense of self-preservation.
“That’s Kennis,” I said, indicating her. “She’s a Baobhan Sith. The false Queen had her locked in a house in Berkeley and used her as a pit trap to try to murder me. She’s bloody because she attacked me, but she was starving at the time, and she and I have worked it out.” That was a bit of an exaggeration. Somehow, I didn’t think Kennis was going to mind.
“I see,” said Dianda. She looked to the dais and frowned. “Who’s the child?”
“Her name is Jocelyn, and she helped the false Queen abduct my daughter.”
Dianda, who had never met Gillian, only heard about her in context of the kidnapping of her own children, stared at me. “Your girl is missing again? October, I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”
Sometimes it’s nice to know that people have my back. “Nothing,” I said. Before Dianda could object to my refusing her help, I explained, “She’s with the Luidaeg. I’ll know something soon.”
Both statements were technically true, even if I couldn’t bring myself to look at Tybalt as I made them. Gillian was with the Luidaeg. Alive or dead, awake or asleep, I’d know something as soon as I was ready to ask, and I let him answer. For now, I needed to keep moving.
She was in the best hands she could possibly be in. If anyone could save her, it was the sea witch.
Please.
Dianda nodded, accepting my words at face value, and shot a venomous look at the false Queen. Patrick was kneeling next to the woman, one hand extended as he presumably took her pulse. It was nice to see him being thorough.
“I could overpower you,” she said. “She’s allowed crimes to be committed against my people. I could have her halfway to the Undersea before you had a chance to stop me. If you think Queen Windermere
is going to be lenient . . . ”
“I don’t,” I said. “This woman took her father’s throne. She left Arden as an exile in her own kingdom for a century, and she had Nolan elf-shot. I think the false Queen will end up wishing she’d stayed asleep up in Silences.” Which raised the question of where we could find Dugan Harrow, and how many times I was going to punch him before he stopped fighting back. I glanced to Jocelyn, who was still slumped, unconscious, in Tybalt’s grasp. We were going to have a long conversation after she woke up, and she wasn’t going to enjoy it.
Etienne’s scent of limes and cedar smoke drifted through the air. I whirled in time to see a glowing portal appear behind me. My liege, Duke Sylvester Torquill of Shadowed Hills, stepped through. I didn’t think. I dropped my sword and broke into a run, flinging myself into the comforting familiarity of his embrace. He didn’t hesitate before folding his arms around me, surrounding me with the scent of daffodils and dogwood flowers that permeated his skin. I inhaled deeply. His magic had meant home and safety to me for as long as I could remember.
“October,” he said, resting his chin against the top of my head and holding me closer still. I started to shake, all the fear and trauma of the day bubbling to the top. “Calm, my dear, calm. I’m here. It will be all right.”
I didn’t look at Tybalt. He was the only one who knew whether my liege was lying. I couldn’t look at him. Not yet.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pressing my face against Sylvester’s chest. “I couldn’t, I couldn’t . . . I’m sorry. I couldn’t do it without you.”
“Nor should you have to. I’m your liege. That means something, October. Even when you feel you can do things on your own, you shouldn’t have to. I’m always here when you need me. Always.” Sylvester lifted his head, and I knew he was looking at the dais, at Tybalt, waiting there for me to be ready for whatever terrible thing was coming next.
I was almost prepared when Sylvester pushed me out to arm’s-length, his golden eyes grave as he searched my face.
“October,” he said, “where is your daughter?”
“With the Luidaeg,” I said, voice small.
“You should go to her. Duchess Lorden and I will see that Queen Windermere takes custody of these ruffians.”
I nodded, unable to speak. Then I knelt, retrieving my sword from the floor. “Tybalt will be back with the elf-shot cure,” I said, finally finding the words now that they weren’t about me. “Please don’t let any harm come to Quentin or May.”
“I would never,” Sylvester assured me.
Dianda looked at me sympathetically, but didn’t speak, as I walked back to where Tybalt waited. He shoved Jocelyn at her. She caught the changeling easily, locking her trident across the smaller woman’s body, so that there was no chance she could wake up and break away.
“I’ll be back for them,” I said, and stepped into Tybalt’s embrace. He drew me close as he stepped into the shadows, and we were gone.
NINETEEN
THE SHADOW ROADS WERE as dark and cold as ever, and somehow no less terrifying for the lack of a Baobhan Sith lurking somewhere in the blackness. Tybalt swung me into a bridal carry, a move that was sweetly, painfully reminiscent of the way we always used to run together, back before I had a prayer of keeping up with him. I closed my eyes and did my best to relax against him, feeling the blood that covered my clothing freeze and flake away.
I didn’t know what we were running toward. It was by my own choosing, and I understood that, I accepted that, but it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t know. Were we running toward a consequence or a miracle? I didn’t know. What had seemed easier in the pale light of the false Queen’s knowe seemed like a dire mistake now, as we ran through the dark and the consequences of my choices loomed ahead of me.
Gillian. My Gilly. I didn’t know her as an adult, had barely known her as a child, but I knew her so well as a baby, and those were the images my heart raced for. The first smile, the first word, the first time she’d tried to grasp a pixie in one pudgy fist and I had known, for sure, that she was fae enough to see the magical world around us, not safely insulated from it like her father. The way she’d scowled when she didn’t want to do something, whether it was eating her broccoli or going to bed. The way she’d laughed every time I crossed my eyes. She had been the most magical thing in my world, and if she was gone, she was gone forever. I didn’t know how I was ever going to move past the reality of her absence.
But I’d been moving toward that reality for years, hadn’t I? Since the moment I’d kissed her forehead and pulled eternity from her veins, I had known that one day she would die and leave me. There had been a chance before that—a slim chance, given how thin her fae blood had been, but a chance all the same. When I had asked her to choose which world she belonged to, I had kept my word. I’d listened. I’d given her what she asked for, and in the process, I had taken away her chance at forever.
Maybe things would have gone differently if I’d been able to explain what it meant to be fae, what it meant to be mortal . . . or if Janet hadn’t already been burrowed into Gillian’s life, quietly poisoning her against Faerie. I shuddered, nestling more tightly against Tybalt. So much of this came back to Janet. She had been there all along, and somehow I had failed to see her. Because she was human, and humans didn’t matter in Faerie.
I was becoming as prejudiced as any pureblood, assuming I hadn’t been already.
Tybalt tensed and leapt and the shadows fell away, brightness lancing at my closed eyes. I cracked them cautiously open and blinked when I saw we were in the Luidaeg’s actual living room, rather than in the alley outside.
“She modified the wards for you?” The question sounded stupid even to my own ears. Of course, she’d modified the wards. How else could we have been where we were? Tybalt was a King of Cats, but no King apart from their Firstborn could possibly have the power to tear through the Luidaeg’s defenses.
“She volunteered it; I did not ask,” he said gravely, lowering me to my feet. “I would not waste her favors on such a petty privilege.”
“Which is why you get to have it, kitty,” said the Luidaeg. I turned. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping something thick and black off her hands. The washcloth’s original color was unknowable, thanks to the muck. She smiled wanly as she looked at me. “Covered in blood again, I see. I suppose it’s your signature look. Maybe think about getting a hat or something instead.”
I opened my mouth, intending to make a snide comment. Nothing came out. My lips moved soundlessly, my voice trying to find purchase on the air. The ice on my lashes was still melting, gluing them together, filling the world with a prismatic gleam.
The Luidaeg sighed. “Breathe, Toby. You need to breathe. She’s alive. But we need to talk about what that means.”
I barely heard her final words. “Alive” echoed in my ears, drowning everything else out. I took a step forward, staggered, and collapsed, saved from impact with the floor by Tybalt, who wrapped his arms around my chest and hoisted me back to my feet.
“Can you get her to the couch?” The Luidaeg sounded very far away.
“I can carry her to the ends of the earth.” Tybalt was there with her. I hoped they were having a nice time in whatever strange new land they had discovered. I hoped they would come back and get me.
Alive.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the Luidaeg, with a hint of amusement. “All you need to do is get her to the couch.”
Tybalt half-carried, half-dragged me across the room to the Luidaeg’s couch, an overstuffed antique blotched with mold and leaking stuffing from every seam. He settled me on a cushion, and there was no weakness in the frame or scent of decay. Like so much else about the apartment, the rot was an illusion.
Sitting upright suddenly felt like too much trouble. I allowed myself to sink into the cushions, that single word—alive, alive, alive—still ec
hoing so loudly that it drowned out almost everything else.
The Luidaeg sighed. “She’s in shock. What fun.”
“Will she be . . .” Tybalt hesitated. “Gillian. Is she . . .” Both times he stopped before the question could fully form, leaving his words to hang in the empty air.
“That’s a conversation I need to have with October, and just because you’re planning to marry her, that doesn’t make you her surrogate for this sort of thing. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Somewhere that isn’t here?” When Tybalt hesitated, the Luidaeg sighed again, angrier this time. “She’s not going to come to harm while she’s in my keeping. You have my word about that. On my own ground, this close to the sea, there’s none among my siblings both living and awake who could take her from me.”
“Quentin and May were elf-shot in the false Queen’s knowe,” he said reluctantly. “October contacted Master Davies before we came here, to ensure he would have his cure prepared for me to collect and carry to them.”
“There you go. Shoo. Go wake the rest of your little gang of fools, and we’ll be here when you get back.”
There was a long pause. Then the smell of musk and pennyroyal washed through the room, and I knew that he was gone. Someone settled on the couch next to me.
“October. Look at me.”
I turned my head, forcing my eyes to focus. The Luidaeg appeared, studying me gravely. Her eyes were green as glass, green as the eyes of the Roane who had been her children, before almost all of them were killed. Evening’s doing. She had already hated her sister, even so long ago as that. The Luidaeg understood what it was to be a mother and bury her children, and more importantly, the Luidaeg couldn’t lie. I seized on that thought with everything I had. The Luidaeg couldn’t lie.
And yet . . . “Alive?” I asked, in a very small voice.
“Yes,” she said. She put her hand, nails still dark with whatever that substance had been, over mine. “October, can you understand what I’m saying right now? We need to have this conversation—we need to have it as soon as possible—but I’m not going to try to explain this to you while you’re checked out. Are you here for this or not?”