Chimes at Midnight
Page 83

“. . . definitely Dianda,” I muttered. Louder, I said, “It’s me, Toby. Can you please not throw anything else? I’m here to get you out of there.”
There was a pause before Dianda said suspiciously, “Prove it.”
I moved back in front of her cell’s hatch. She was standing at the center of the room in bipedal form, a brick in one hand, glaring. Her tunic was ripped and stained with blood and rust. She wasn’t wearing any pants, or shoes.
She scowled when she saw my face. “You’re not October,” she snarled, and pulled back her arm, preparing to fling the second brick.
“Whoa, whoa, hold up!” I said. “I am October, I just had a little accident with a goblin fruit pie and sort of accidentally turned myself mostly human.” The sheer ridiculousness of that statement hit me as soon as it had left my mouth. I winced. “Okay, let me try again . . .”
“There’s no need. No one else would say something that dumb and actually mean it.” Dianda lowered the brick. “How did you get here?” She seemed to be trying to look past me to the hall. The reason was revealed when she asked, “How many guards did you bring?”
“I brought a force of one, and he’s in trouble. I need you to help me find the treasury so I can fix myself, because I can’t fix him until I do that.” I drew my iron knife. The hilt was heavy and familiar in my hand. “Hold tight. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Hurry.” Dianda wrapped her arms a little tighter around herself. “The air in here burns.”
“I know.” I dropped to one knee, wincing, and studied the lock. The fact that Dianda was still standing, and still strong enough not to revert to her natural form, was sort of awe-inspiring. Iron saps strength, and the more fae someone is, the faster iron will start affecting them. Dianda was pureblooded. She should have been writhing in agony. Instead, she was just looking for something she could hit.
I knew I liked her for a reason.
The lock was surprisingly easy to pick, maybe because there’d never been much of a reason to make it very secure. The Queen’s dungeon was hard to access, and anyone fae enough to know it existed was unlikely to ever make it that far. I twisted my knife to the side and the tumbler popped, allowing me to unlatch the door.
“All right; I’m opening the do—” Dianda burst out of the room, shoving past me, and stopped at the middle of the hallway, breathing so hard she looked like she’d just finished a marathon. I caught myself against the wall. “—or now,” I finished. “You okay?”
“My blood is full of stinging jellies and I want to hurt someone,” she snarled. “So it’s to be treason now, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I said. “Arden just announced her regency. Unless she fails, this Queen has no right to hold you.”
Dianda blinked, and then slowly smiled. “Wonderful. Now about those people I wanted to hurt . . .”
“We can’t.” I shook my head, resheathing my knife. “We have something else to do.”
“What?” Dianda’s eyebrows arched upward in surprise. “I’m sorry. You get to give me orders now? Did I miss the annexation of the Undersea?”
“No,” I said. “But Tybalt is dying, and we need to find the treasury if there’s going to be any chance of saving him. I can’t do it on my own. I need your help.”
“A knight of the land Courts asking a Duchess of the Undersea to save a King of Cats,” said Dianda, almost thoughtfully. “You live your life in a stew of myths, don’t you?”
I glared. “This is no time to stand here quipping. Will you help me, or am I leaving you to find your own way out of here?”
“Of course I’ll help you.” Her bravado slipped, revealing the wounded, weary woman behind her mask. “Love should always be saved—and I owe the bitch who holds this knowe more pain than I can properly describe. We may as well begin with a little robbery.”
“Great.” I turned in a circle, finally pointing toward the nearest set of stairs. “That way. That’ll get us back to ground-level.”
“Where is the treasury from there?”
“I . . .” I stopped, shoulders sagging. “I don’t know.”
“Well, then. It’s a good thing you have me.” Dianda started walking. I moved to pace her. She was moving slowly enough that I could, and I didn’t get the impression that it was due to courtesy; she was a mermaid who’d been forced to remain in a mostly-human shape for hours. She couldn’t have walked faster if she’d wanted to.
Since for the moment, we only needed to climb stairs, I didn’t ask what she’d meant: I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Midway up, I paused to pop another of Walther’s blood gems into my mouth. It barely took the edge off my hunger. That didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t need them much longer.
One way or another, I wouldn’t need them much longer.
Dianda reached the door at the top of the stairs first, and paused, leaning in until her ear was almost brushing against the wood. She held up two fingers. I nodded. Then, since I was the one more equipped to touch the iron laced through the door itself, I braced my shoulder against it and shoved it open.
I had time to see the startled look on the first guard’s face before Dianda hit him in the throat, the sort of sucker punch that made it impossible for him to do anything but fall down. I grabbed his spear as he fell, whipping around and swinging it toward the other side of the door. Momentum turned me to face the second guard just as the haft of the spear hit her across the belly. The air rushed out of her as a loud grunt. Dianda promptly punched her three times in the face, and she went down beside her partner.
The door to the dungeons swung shut with a disturbingly final-sounding bang. Tybalt was down there, alone with the night-haunts. We had to hurry.
“Amateurs,” scoffed Dianda, and crouched to begin searching the fallen guards. “I’ve got a short sword here.”
“I’ll keep the spear,” I said.
“Suit yourself.” Dianda straightened, belting the guard’s sword around her waist as she held up a key ring. “Do you know how to get to the main receiving room?”
“That way.” I pointed.
“Good. Which way is the armory?”