Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

by Seanan McGuire

  “Shit,” I muttered, and started backing up. Maybe I’d get lucky and find another hidden chamber behind a hideous tapestry. Sure, the Folletti would probably see me duck inside, but it would give me a chance to get the charm out of sight, and I could always say I got lost looking for the bathroom. Most purebloods assume all changelings are stupid. There was even a chance they’d believe me.

  My shoulders hit the fabric—and hands reached out from behind the tapestry, yanking me backward into the shadows on the other side. I squeaked before I could stop myself—

  —and then everything was dark and cold, and I was falling, falling, falling—

  —and we fell through a portal in the side of a wall, landing in a heap on the floor of what appeared to be an attic. My lungs were aching. I stayed where I was, trying to catch my breath.

  Underneath me, Tybalt commented mildly, “While this is amusing and such, don’t you think we’d be more productive if you elected to move? I ask merely out of curiosity, and not because you’re cutting off circulation to my left arm.”

  “Oh, crap. Sorry.” I scrambled to my feet, narrowly avoiding elbowing Tybalt in any sensitive spots. “Are you okay?”

  “I am quite fine.” Tybalt flowed to his feet with effortless grace before stooping to retrieve the Luidaeg’s charm from where it had fallen to the floor. He held it out to me. “The same question might well be asked of you, you know. Whatever possessed you to think roving the halls of Dreamer’s Glass unescorted would be the wisest thing to do?”

  The charm was dark in Tybalt’s hand. When my fingers touched it, it flickered back into foxfire light. Not red, though, not anymore. That would have been too much to hope for. “I was trying to find Chelsea.”

  “You nearly found the wrong end of a Folletti’s blade.”

  “Didn’t. That means I win.” I tucked the charm into my jacket pocket. “That was a good save. How did you know I needed it?”

  “Jasmine was kind enough to let me know my services might be required. When I arrived in Tamed Lightning, April alerted me to your destination.” A small, self-satisfied smile spread across Tybalt’s face. “There are no Cait Sidhe in Riordan’s domain.”

  I blinked. “So?”

  “So, when she employed my late, lamented cousin Barbara as one of her spies, she was forced to open her wards to access from the Shadow Roads. Otherwise, there was no way the espionage could have continued for as long as it did.”

  Barbara was one of the people who died at ALH, right around the time Jan did. At the moment, that didn’t matter as much as the fact that Barbara had been Cait Sidhe. I stared at Tybalt, comprehension dawning. “Riordan didn’t think to close her wards back up.”

  “I daresay she assumed there would never be cause.” His smile became a smirk. “I do enjoy proving people wrong.”

  “You know, Tybalt, I could kiss you right now,” I said. His eyes widened in surprise, and I barely managed not to wince. I shouldn’t have said that. Kisses were nothing to joke about, especially where Tybalt was concerned. I turned quickly away, using the need to survey my surroundings as an excuse not to meet his eyes.

  Wherever we were, it was clearly Riordan’s knowe. Like all attics, this one was filled with things too worn to be on display and too expensive or treasured to get rid of. Unlike most attics, this one could have been used as a shrine to kitsch. Some of the things Riordan had decided were too tacky to keep on display were truly appalling, if only because someone, somewhere, had gone to the trouble of actually making them. Who needs a brass fountain shaped like a pissing Satyr, anyway?

  Tybalt cleared his throat. “Interesting décor.”

  “You should see the rest of this place.” I turned back to him. “Is there any chance you could get me back to Quentin and Li before Riordan reaches them?” I paused. “How did you find me, anyway?”

  “For all that I must keep reminding you that I am not a bloodhound, it’s true that on occasion, having a sensitive nose is a useful thing. I followed the smell of you.” Tybalt sighed, looking exaggeratedly put-upon. “If you must be ferried back to your people, I suppose I can oblige. But only because you asked so very nicely, and promised me a kiss.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  Tybalt sighed again. This time, his put-upon expression seemed less exaggerated. “Take a deep breath.”

  “At least this time you’re giving me fair warning,” I said, and breathed in.

  “Surprising you was better than the alternatives,” he said. He put one hand to either side of my waist and stepped backward, pulling me into the shadows.

  The more time I spend with Tybalt, the more I think that investing in some good silk long underwear would be a good idea. Sure, I’d roast most of the time, but I wouldn’t be nearly as concerned about getting frostbite on the Shadow Roads.

  We stepped off the Shadow Roads in the white velvet antechamber, where Quentin was pacing while an anxious-looking Li Qin sat on an overstuffed loveseat, spindling her skirt in her hands. She froze when she saw us, skirt dropping from suddenly motionless fingers. Quentin followed her gaze, turning, and relaxed markedly.

  “You’re late,” he said. “Did you find her?”

  “No, but she was here.” I turned to Tybalt. “Can you wait at Tamed Lightning? I don’t think I can explain you to Riordan, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to need you again, real soon.”

  “Yes. There is, however, the matter of my payment to be settled. Tell your squire to avert his eyes, if you would be so kind.”

  “Why would I—”

  My question was answered when Tybalt returned his hands to my waist, pulling me toward him, and pressed his lips to mine.

  Passage through the Shadow Roads had left my skin cold. Not his. Kissing Tybalt was like standing too close to an open fire, all heat and the promise of pain if I came any closer. I stepped forward without thinking about it, returning his kiss with a willingness that surprised us both. Tybalt’s fingers tightened on my waist, his lips starting to melt the frost from mine…

  …and then he was pulling away, a smile on his face. “Enjoy your audience,” he said, and stepped into the shadows, and was gone.

  I stared at the wall for a moment, trying to recover my breath. My lips were still cold. I licked them. They tasted like some weird new brand of mint lip gloss. “Pennyroyal Perfection,” not available any time soon from a store near you.

  “Well. Your boyfriend certainly knows how to make an exit,” said Li Qin. “I do hope he can get out of here without being seen.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s good at not getting caught when he doesn’t want to be.” I turned back to the pair of them. Li Qin was standing now. Quentin was just staring at me. I wrinkled my nose at him. “Close your mouth before a Folletti flies into it.”

  He closed his mouth with a snap before saying, “That was weird.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, really weird.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “Tybalt—”

  “Quentin, as your knight, this is where I declare this conversation over. Got it?”

  “Sure,” he said, somewhat dubiously. “What did you find?”

  “Nothing I’m going to be discussing here.” There was no trace of the Folletti in the room, but I’m not Spider-Man. I can’t sense danger coming without making a serious effort, and even then, my ability to feel out people’s heritage at a distance is pretty tenuous. I’ve only had to count on it a few times. I wasn’t willing to bet my life on it.

  Both Li Qin and Quentin nodded their understanding. I turned to look at the door.

  “It’s been twenty minutes, hasn’t it?”

  “Don’t the nobles ever make you wait to show who’s in charge where you come from?” asked Li Qin. “It’s a fairly standard tactic here.”

  “I’ve encountered it a time or two,” I said, as mildly as I could. Mostly from the Queen of the Mists, who isn’t exactly what I’d call a role model for appropriate noble behavior.
“How long do you think she’s going to leave us here? We don’t have forever.”

  As if on cue, the door to the reception room swung open, revealing—sort of—two half-solid Folletti. Both had their weapons drawn, but they weren’t pointing them at us. Yet. The implied menace was sufficient.

  “You will come with us,” said one of them, voice barely loud enough to be audible.

  When the wind orders me to do something, I do it. “We will come with you,” I agreed, and gestured to Quentin and Li Qin to follow as I walked out of the room.

  The translucent bodies of the Folletti distorted the tapestries and crown molding as they led the three of us down the hall. It was like being accompanied by two giant funhouse mirrors, both set permanently to “warp.”

  We stopped at a large set of double doors, surrounded by more of that ubiquitous crown molding, and built on a scale that made me wonder if Riordan had looked at the doors in Shadowed Hills and thought, “Mine should be bigger.” They were so massive that I wasn’t even sure they could be opened. One of the Folletti ghosted forward and turned what looked like another bit of crown molding in a full circle. One of the bottom panels in the right-hand door swung outward.

  “I guess they can’t be,” I murmured.

  The other Folletti turned to frown at me. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  Still frowning, the Folletti led us through the panel and into Riordan’s receiving room.

  After the rest of the knowe, I’d been expecting something over the top and almost laughable. I definitely hadn’t been expecting what was there. The room was large, easily on a par with the ballroom at Shadowed Hills. Globes of witchlight floated near the ceiling. There were no chandeliers, and the globes moved freely, according to some undefined pattern. The floor was simple stone, and the walls were bare, except for a banner at the very far end of the hall, directly behind Riordan’s throne. It showed the arms of Dreamer’s Glass—a crack running through silver fabric, with a lily on one side and a spindle on the other. I’ve never studied heraldry, but I know enough to know that the lily was probably a reference to the Lady of Shalott, who had her issues with mirrors. It was an odd choice for a Ducal coat of arms, but hey, not my business.

  Riordan herself was seated on the throne beneath the banner, waiting for us. She came into clearer focus as we approached, and I realized that she’d changed her clothes. Her college girl chic was gone, replaced by a green floor-length gown that looked much more in tune with what Li Qin was wearing. Only her ruby choker remained; she wore no other jewelry. An unornamented silver circlet rested on her brow. If I hadn’t seen her knowe, I would have looked at her and assumed she was a little old-fashioned, a little humble.

  Since I had seen her knowe, I had to wonder what her angle was and what she expected to get out of it.

  Riordan raised a hand, waving it languidly. The Folletti ghosted away again, becoming breezes that ruffled our hair as they flew past. The door slammed behind us. Quentin glanced at me. I nodded reassuringly, and we kept walking.

  We stopped the polite ten paces before her throne. Li Qin curtsied. Quentin and I bowed. We all held our positions at the lowest point, supplicating ourselves. It was the appropriate thing to do; we were guests in Riordan’s home. It still rankled, especially given what I’d heard her saying while I was in the hall—and since I wasn’t supposed to have been there, it wasn’t like I could reasonably ask her about it. Not unless I wanted to find out whether her hospitality extended to dungeons.

  My back was just starting to hurt from having been folded over so long when Riordan said, with practiced sweetness, “You may rise.”

  “Your Grace,” I said, straightening. “We appreciate your granting us this audience.”

  “It’s the least I could do, sugar. You’ve never come to see me before, and it’d be plain rude to send you packing without letting you experience the grandeur of a formal reception.” She giggled. It was probably meant to sound girlish and carefree. Instead, it sounded overly practiced, like the host of a bad PBS kid’s show. “How are you finding Dreamer’s Glass?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Quentin, with absolute honesty.

  Riordan beamed, clearly choosing to interpret his answer as a good thing. “I’ve worked very hard on this place. I’ll have you know, I had a hand in decorating every single room.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That must have taken a lot of time.”

  “It was worth it.” Riordan settled back in her throne, smile turning into something smug and dangerous. “Now. Why don’t you explain just who it is you’re looking for?”

  “A changeling girl named Chelsea is missing. She hasn’t had her Choice yet; she was still living with her mortal parent when her powers manifested.” It wasn’t a completely true statement. It was close enough, especially given my growing suspicion that Riordan was involved. “Her magic smells like sycamore smoke and calla lilies. She’s shown a pretty impressive range on her gates—we don’t know how far she might have traveled by now.”

  “Shoot, you mean you’re here about a runaway? I thought it would be something worth getting worked up about. Teenagers run off, especially ones who can open themselves magic doors in space. She’s probably in Los Angeles swooning over some movie star, and she’ll come home when she’s ready.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “For one thing, she’s already called home once, begging for help. Someone took her, Your Grace, and it’s my job to get her back.”

  Riordan’s eyes narrowed. “She called home? Did she speak to her human mother?”

  “No,” I lied. “I took the call. I was there looking for signs that might point me in her direction.”

  “Did you find any?”

  “Not yet.” I forced myself to keep looking at Riordan’s face. Breaking eye contact would be a quick way to tell her something was wrong. “I was hoping she’d come here. I cast an augury that indicated she’d at least passed through.” More lies, unless you wanted to interpret the Luidaeg’s charm really, really broadly. But the Luidaeg is a blunt instrument, and telling Riordan she was helping us might trigger a violent response. If I were a kidnapper and someone told me the sea witch was on my trail, well. I’d be tempted to make sure that someone never had the opportunity to report back to her allies.

  “I haven’t seen her,” said Riordan. If she was lying, she was doing it too smoothly for me to be sure about it. I suppose that was only fair. I was lying through my teeth, after all.

  “If I may,” said Li Qin. “The girl is young and does not know or respect the bounds of our domains. Might your guards have seen an intruder, one who came and was gone too quickly to be detained?”

  “First off, honey, there’s no ‘our’ in the domains around here. You didn’t inherit when your little love bug went and left us.” Riordan’s words were delivered with a smile that did nothing to reduce their sharpness. The smell of apples and snowdrops rose in the air around her, a menacing reminder of her anger. I stiffened. She was too wrapped up in her own dialog to notice. “Second, if she’d been here, my guards would’ve caught her. I don’t know how you do things in Tamed Lightning, but here, no one comes or goes without my leave.”

  “Can I leave a number for you to call if she shows up?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level. It was essential that she not realize I recognized her magic. “We need to find her.”

  “Changelings run away. It happens.” She kept smiling. “You did, didn’t you? I remember your mama was so mad. This Chelsea girl is probably just doing the same thing. I don’t see where it’s any of my problem, to be honest.”

  I took a deep breath, counting to ten before I answered her. Amandine wasn’t the perfect mother, and I did run away from home. But I was in my twenties and coming to understand that I’d never belong fully in the Summerlands, not a confused teenager who barely understood what she could do. “She’s lost, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” I said, as steadily as I could.
“It’s not your problem. Telling us if you see her is the right thing to do.”

  “I’ll consider it,” said Riordan. Her eyes flicked to Quentin, and she smiled. “Now, if one of you wanted to stay here, and maybe help me make sure I didn’t get distracted…”

  Quentin looked alarmed. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, but I need my squire with me. He’s got important squire things to do. Part of his training. You understand.”

  “Of course,” said Riordan. She didn’t bother to conceal her disappointment. “If there wasn’t anything else, one of my guards has reported a trespasser—not your little girl, this one didn’t leave any gate traces behind—and I should be looking into that. You can leave.” It wasn’t an offer. It was an order.

  “Yes, Your Grace,” I said, bowing again. Quentin did the same.

  Li Qin…didn’t. She tilted her head to the side, looking at Riordan. Finally, she said, “I understand from April that you did not attend January’s funeral. A pity. It would have been nice to have you there.”

  “I didn’t kill her, Li,” said Riordan bluntly. “I didn’t kill her, and I didn’t invade her lands when that little abomination you call a daughter took power. How about you just be glad of that and leave the guilt trips for someone who’s willing to take them?”

  “As you like,” said Li Qin, and curtsied. “Your hospitality is impeccable, as always.”

  “Yes,” said Riordan. “I know.” She’d followed the rules binding a host to the letter, giving no more than she had to but not withholding anything we could legitimately expect. It was a fine line to walk. She’d walked it without hesitating.

  The Folletti whispered back into view around us, five of them this time, their positioning and posture clearly stating that we were supposed to go with them. I nodded one last time to Riordan, whose smile had faded entirely, before I turned to follow the Folletti. None of them said a word, not as we left the throne room and not as they walked us back through the knowe to the cavern where the car was waiting.

  Quentin gave me back the keys. I unlocked the door while Li Qin paid our parking fees. Then we all put our human disguises back on, got into the car, and drove away.