Ashes of Honor
Page 53

Tybalt’s lingering frown faded into a look of resignation. “We’re going to talk later.”
“I guessed that part.” I finished my coffee in one long drink. “April, keep an eye out. Quentin, don’t get yourself killed.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
“Good.” I walked over to Tybalt. “We need to go to Shadowed Hills.”
“Then you need to hold your breath.” He put his hands around my waist, a little tighter than strictly necessary, and he stepped back, into the dark.
I don’t know how the Cait Sidhe navigate the Shadow Roads, any more than I know how they can breathe there. They must be able to, at least a little. Tybalt is in good shape, yes, but there are limits. He kept one hand on my waist, removing the other and twining his fingers with mine. Then he turned me around, and pulled me in his wake as he began to run.
Experience had made it strangely easy to trust him as he pulled me away through the absolute blackness and freezing cold. Whatever else I might be feeling, however confused I might be, I trusted him to bring me safe out the other side. I trusted him to—
I trusted him. Qualifiers were meaningless. Worse yet, he was right; I’d been pushing everyone away as hard as I could since Connor died, trying to isolate myself in order to protect my heart against further damage. Losing a lover and a child on the same day was more than anyone should be asked to bear. But how much could I ask my friends to bear? How much could I expect them to take before they said, “Fine, if you want to push us away, we’re going”?
Our emergence back into the light caught me by surprise. Tybalt kept running for a few more feet, letting us bleed off our momentum. Then he let me go, turning to face me. “Toby,” he said, surprise and delight coloring his voice. “You’ve stopped making yourself heavier than you need to be while we’re running.”
“What?” I blinked, feeling the ice crystals on my eyelashes stick together. I reached up to wipe them away. “What do you mean?”
“This time, while we ran, you didn’t think about how dark the shadows were, or how afraid you were of being lost there.”
“How do you—?”
“Because you came easily, and look.” He waved a hand. “We’re here.”
We were standing on a stretch of grass surrounded by sculpted wild rose hedges. They formed an elegant walking maze, cutting wide avenues through the greenery. Fountains and benches were studded here and there, offering convenient places for people to sit and talk, or rest their feet a little while before continuing on. The shape of the great hall was visible on the other side of the maze, somehow managing to loom across the scene without becoming menacing.
“We are,” I said. “Come on.”
The maze was meant for idle wanderers, not for people who wanted to spend an entire night snared in a labyrinth. We made it through the hedges quickly, emerging onto a swath of lawn. Ahead of us was a gray stone patio, and doors from there led into the great hall. I didn’t approach. Instead, I stopped where I was, motioned for Tybalt to be quiet, and listened.
He watched with amusement as I turned to one side and then the other. Finally, I pointed to the left. “This way.”
“And why, precisely, is this way superior to any others?”
“Because this way leads to Luna,” I said, and started walking.
Luna Torquill is many things. A Duchess. A Blodynbryd—sort of like a Dryad, only connected to rosebushes, not trees. But above everything else, she’s a gardener. Always has been and probably always will be. And because she’s a gardener, even though Shadowed Hills has groundskeepers, she can often be found in the location of the most noise in the yard.
We came over a low rise to find ourselves facing a vegetable garden being harvested by half a dozen Hobs, a few Brownies, and one delighted Cornish Pixie, who was picking ears of corn from stalks nearly fifteen feet high. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t harvest season. This was Luna’s garden. It would ripen when she wanted it to. Luna herself was on her knees in a patch of strawberry plants, plucking berries from beneath the broad, flat leaves. Some were the normal red. Others were white with the faintest blush of pink, or so dark they seemed black.
“Luna?”
She straightened at the sound of her name. By the time we finished our approach, she was standing, and her gloves were in the basket with the berries. “October,” she said, sounding surprised. “And Tybalt. What are you two doing here? Is everything all right? Sylvester is inside…”
“We’re not here to see Sylvester,” I said. “We’re here to see you.” This was the tricky part. I needed her to help us. I wasn’t yet at the point of telling the Torquills what was going on.
“Me?” Luna blinked again. “Why me?”
“We need access to the Rose Road,” I said. “It’s sort of an emergency.”
As a Blodynbryd, Luna had access to the Rose Roads, which ran, near as I could tell, between the Summerlands and places where the walls of the world had worn thin. I had taken the Rose Road from Shadowed Hills to the Luidaeg’s apartment once, and once into Blind Michael’s lands. Those places weren’t necessarily lost—in fact, they were, by definition, found. They were also outside the normal passages of Faerie. If we wanted to find Raj, we needed a miracle. This seemed close enough for me. I might as well risk it all on the liminal spaces.
Luna’s eyes widened, pink eyelashes making her expression of shock almost comic. It’s taken me a long time to get used to her new coloring, snow white and rose red where she used to be shades of brown. Sometimes, it’s still a little strange. “What do you need the Rose Road for?”
“We’ve sort of misplaced Raj. I think if we can get between realms, we might be able to get a fix on him.” I hoped, anyway.
Luna frowned. “I can’t just open a road with no end. You have to have a destination.”
Destination. Right. “Send us to your mother,” I suggested.
“I don’t know…” said Luna uncertainly.
“Milady of Roses, you know October wouldn’t ask if it were not of direst importance,” said Tybalt. He smiled hopefully. “Please? It would be a great favor, to both of us, and I am sure all will be made clear, given time enough.”
Time enough, and us managing not to die. “Please?” I echoed, trying my hardest to look ingratiating. I probably managed to look deranged.