One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel (32 page)

That was what I’d expected. It still hurt to hear it said. “Cold wax, or wax from a candle that’s still burning?” Oberon help me, but I had to be
sure
.

“Hot.”

“I see.” The scent and feel of a person’s magic isn’t one hundred percent unique; I’m not the only one in Faerie who smells like copper when she casts a spell, although I’ve never encountered anyone whose magic incorporates all the elements mine does. Hot wax and flowers only described the magic of one person I’d ever met.

“Do you?”

The smugness on his face was too much for me to bear. I closed the distance between us in three long steps, grabbing his collar and yanking him toward me while the gathered pages gaped in dismay. “Do I see that you took the word of a woman whose magic marked her as being
Rayseline Torquill
? A woman who was wanted for
murder
in this Kingdom the last time I checked?”

“You dare!” Dugan flailed, trying to pull away. “Release me at once!”

“
Make
me,” I snarled, pulling him closer still. “Give me one good reason not to show you what this mongrel can do.”

“October!” Etienne grabbed my arm, trying to haul me off Dugan. “That is quite enough!” Bringing his face to my ear, he hissed, “Do not give the Queen cause to arrest you again. Not now. Not over him. He’s not worth your reputation.”

My anger needed something to focus on, and Dugan was more than suited to the position. But Etienne was right—if I got myself arrested, I wouldn’t be able to find the Lorden boys, and I wouldn’t be able to find my own daughter. The thought of Gillian was all that gave me the strength to relax my fingers. I shook Dugan once, hard, before releasing him. He staggered backward, staring at me, bug-eyed.

“I never thought you were a genius, Harrow, but by Maeve’s bones, before tonight, I never knew that you were such a twice-cursed
fool
,” I spat.

“You
dare
—” he choked, clutching his throat with one hand. I hoped like hell it was going to leave a bruise.

I took a step forward, feeling a cold satisfaction when he shied back, away from me. “I outrank you, and I’m pretty sure I can outfight you, so yes, I dare,” I said flatly. Raising my voice, I called to the pages, “Be careful with this man. He’ll give you orders that get you killed, as long as they make him look good. If you have a choice? Don’t listen.”

“Time to go,” said Etienne, taking my elbow.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room, feeling the stares of the pages on my back every inch of the way.

We were well down the hall and out of sight of the armory when Etienne tightened his grip, spinning me around to face him. “Are you
insane
?” he demanded. “Taunting Dugan Harrow is not a good idea!”

“Really?” I asked, scowling at him. “Why not? What can he do, Etienne? Glare at me across the room? Tell the Queen I’m a naughty girl? Oooh, I’m shaking. I can’t lose his good opinion. I never had it.”

“It doesn’t matter that he’s not her seneschal, and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t think well of you. Taunting him is still foolish.” He let go of me. “I taught you better than to lower yourself to his level—and he’s hungry, October. Daoine Sidhe without position are always hungry. You’d know that, if you—” He stopped, looking stricken, as as he realized what he’d been about to say.

“If I were Daoine Sidhe,” I finished, since he clearly wasn’t going to. “If I were Daoine Sidhe, I’d know about being hungry for power and position, and wanting to have something I could control. I guess we’re all lucky I’m not Daoine Sidhe, huh?”

Etienne lowered his eyes, looking ashamed. “I apologize. I should never have said that.”

“You didn’t.” I paused. If I were Daoine Sidhe—what I always believed myself to be—I would have understood being hungry for power. But I’m Dóchas Sidhe, and that means I understand something different.

I understand blood.

“Change of plans. Can you transport us again?” I asked.

“What?” Etienne raised his head. “I—yes, of course, if it’s only the two of us. Have you found everything you need? Is it time to return to Shadowed Hills?”

“Not quite.” I pulled the borrowed phone from my pocket, holding it up for him to see. “I need to make a few phone calls. But first, we’re going to Goldengreen.”

Etienne frowned. “Are you intending to do something foolish?”

“I guess that depends on your definition.” I shrugged. “But yeah, by most definitions, probably. Come on, Etienne. Let’s go prevent a war.”

T
HE DISTANCE BETWEEN the Queen’s Court and Goldengreen is shorter than the distance between Shadowed Hills and the Queen’s Court. That, combined with my lack of anything that even resembled food, probably explained why I didn’t feel the need to throw up after we made the crossing. I did stagger backward until my butt hit the wall, and slump forward to rest my hands on my knees, panting a little.

Etienne watched impassively. “You know, for someone who spends so much time bleeding, you have very little resistance to vertigo.”

“Is that what this is? Because it feels more like I just rode a big roller coaster about eight times.”

“Yes, precisely.” Etienne shook his head. “Are you like this every time you travel with the King of Cats?”

“Nope.” The room was mostly done spinning. I straightened cautiously. My stomach chose to stay where it was. “The Shadow Roads go in more for freezing me to death. Puking is new and exciting.”

“Your way with words remains unmatched.” Etienne wrinkled his nose. “Much as I appreciate a regent’s desire to return to their home fiefdom, what, precisely, are we doing here?”

“Lots of things. Come on.” I started down the hall. Etienne followed. “Have you been here before?”

“Not in many years.”

“So you haven’t seen the place since we redecorated. Gotcha.” One of the resident bogeys skittered across the wall at head-height before vanishing into the rafters.

Etienne’s eyes widened. “Did you see that?” he asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got bogeys. They’re sort of in charge here. It’s a long story.” I stuck my head into the kitchen. Marcia was at the counter, directing a pair of Urisks and a young Barrow Wight through the process of making bread. “Hey, Marcia?” I called. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

She looked up, smiling brilliantly. A smudge of flour was on one cheek, just under the circles of faerie ointment that ringed her eyes. “Toby!” She patted one of the Urisks on the shoulder. “You guys are doing fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing—and try not to get any more bogeys in the dough, okay? I’ll be right back.” Apparently satisfied that she’d managed to keep her apprentices from giving us all food poisoning, she walked toward us, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the Queen’s Court. And who’s your friend?”

“This is Sir Etienne of Shadowed Hills. Etienne, this is my seneschal, Marcia.”

If Etienne was surprised to hear that a quarter-blood changeling was my seneschal, he was well-bred enough not to show it. Instead, he offered her a shallow bow, and said, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Marcia, dipping a quick curtsy before turning her attention back on me. “So what’s going on? Did you stop the war?”

“Not quite. I’m still working on it.” I briefly considered telling her about Gillian, but dismissed the idea. Marcia had enough to worry about. I didn’t want to make things worse until I absolutely had to. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

“A pen?” She blinked before rummaging in the pocket of her apron and producing a plain ballpoint pen. There were tooth marks in the white plastic. It looked so ordinary I could have cried. “Will this work?”

“That will work just fine.” I took the pen, pulling one of Dianda’s bottles from my pocket. “I need to write a note. While I’m doing that, can you make sure the solarium is cleared out? I’m going to make a few phone calls, and then I need to invite some visitors over to talk to me.”

“Visitors?” said Etienne, frowning.

“The solarium?” said Marcia. Her frown was less concerned, and more thoughtful. “Sure. We’ve been using it for storage, but we can shift everything in there out to the hallway.”

“Do that. I’m going to need some privacy.” What I was considering was probably insane. At that moment, I didn’t care. Rayseline Torquill had my daughter, and there was one person in the world who was likely to know where she was.

The Selkie who she’d killed.

I opened the first bottle, shaking out the scrap of paper and pressing it flat against the doorframe. “Etienne, when you get back to Shadowed Hills, let Sylvester know about the disguise Raysel used in the Queen’s Court. I mean, it’s not likely she’ll try to sneak into the knowe, but you never know, right? Better safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” he said, frowning. “What do you mean, ‘visitors’? Who are you asking to come here?”

“Pretty much everyone.” I tapped the paper, and then went back to scribbling. My handwriting is nothing to brag about, but it’s legible. Usually. “This is an update for the Duchess of Saltmist, since I’d rather she didn’t get pissed off because she thinks I’m withholding information. Then I’m going to call May, and have her bring the car—”

“You’re going to let her drive?” said Marcia, sounding both horrified and amazed.

“I need the car. Can you think of a better way to get it here?” I handed Marcia her pen before rerolling the scrap of paper and tucking it back into the bottle. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m going to call May. And then I’m going to call the Luidaeg, and ask her for a quick and dirty version of the ritual I used to summon the night-haunts.”

“
What
?” demanded Etienne.

“
What
?” echoed Marcia.

“I really don’t have time to argue about this.” I corked the bottle, checking twice to be sure the seal was tight. Dianda said it would find her. I wanted it to find her with the contents intact. “I’m going to call the night-haunts.”

“Why?” asked Marcia.

“Rayseline killed a Selkie in her effort to steal the Lorden boys from their home. October believes that the murder victim will be able to provide her with answers,” said Etienne, a slow mixture of revulsion and admiration in his tone. “Sir Daye, I cannot recommend this course of action.”

“Wow, I suggest something this crazy and I go back to being ‘Sir Daye’? What do I have to do to get you to call me ‘Countess’?”

“Let’s not find out,” said Etienne flatly.

“The night is young.” I whistled. One of the knowe’s seemingly countless pixies appeared from inside a cabinet—I probably didn’t want to know what it was doing in there, or how many others were in there with it—and came to hover in front of me at eye-level. I held up the bottle. “Can you throw this into the ocean, please? Don’t open it. Just throw it in the water.”

Pixies are smarter than most people give them credit for. This one planted her hands on her diminutive hips, wings buzzing like mad, and said something incomprehensible in the tinkling language of the pixies.

Fortunately, I’ve had enough experience with the local colony to know what she was probably asking for. “A loaf of bread and a pitcher of cream,” I said, like I was agreeing to something.

The pixie darted forward and grabbed the bottle from my hand before flying out of the kitchen and down the hall. Five more pixies appeared from inside the cabinet and flew after her. The bread-makers didn’t even look up. After you’ve been in Goldengreen for a little while, this sort of thing becomes commonplace.

Marcia looked at me quizzically. “Why did you bribe the pixies? I could have thrown your bottle in the water for free.”

“Mostly because I’m about to summon the night-haunts into their knowe, and I figure that if I’m not going to ask for permission, I should try to make sure they’re in a good mood.”

“I wish that didn’t make sense,” said Marcia, and sighed. “Are you
really
going to summon the night-haunts?”

“Got a better plan?” Neither of them said anything. “Didn’t think so.”

“I have no desire to witness this,” said Etienne. “I’ll be returning to Shadowed Hills now, if you have no further need of me.”

“No, I’m good,” I said. “Let Sylvester know what’s going on, and what I’m doing.”

Etienne nodded, and offered a small bow to Marcia. Then he turned, stepping out into the hall. The smell of limes and cedar smoke wafted in his wake, and I knew, even without checking, that he was gone.

Marcia glanced after him before asking, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Make bread for the pixies?” I smiled a little. “And tell anyone who comes asking for me that I’m busy until further notice.”

“Got it.” She smiled back, hesitantly. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Nope. But I need to know.”

There were other things I could have done. I could have called Bucer and tried to bully him into finding me more information. I could have called Danny and begged him to drive me all over the city, looking for traces of Raysel’s magic. I could have asked Tybalt for the loan of his Court, and sent them searching. There are always other options. But all of them would take time, and time was the one thing I wasn’t sure Gillian had. Maybe if I hadn’t passed out after Tybalt threw me into the shadows . . .