One Salt Sea
Page 37
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“Can you be reached?”
“I have got to get a phone.” The urge to rake my hair back was thwarted by the things in my hands. I settled for blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “If you need me, call the apartment. I’ll check in regularly, and May can pass along any messages.”
“I suppose that will have to be sufficient.” Etienne sighed. “This is a twice-cursed mess, October.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. But I’ll do the best I can to bring it to a resolution that doesn’t kill us all.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Etienne, and bowed before turning to walk slowly toward the throne room doors. He was moving like that to give us time to get out of the area before Sylvester could call me back. I know an escape when it’s offered to me, and I took it without hesitating. Nodding toward the end of the hall to signal Tybalt to follow, I started briskly for the exit.
It was long past time to get moving. The world wasn’t going to hold still while I caught up with it.
TWELVE
TYBALT WAITED UNTIL THERE WAS a corner and half a hallway between us and Etienne before asking, “So now what happens?”
“Now I call Walther and ask him to analyze the contents of the vial,” I said, nodding toward the box I was carrying. “I’m willing to bet that it’s poison, but I’d like specifics. I’m going to check with the Luidaeg to see if she’s arranged that meeting with Dianda. After that, I’ll head for the Queen’s Court, and . . .” I sighed. “After that comes whatever comes after that. I can’t be any more specific. A nap might be nice.”
“It’s a beginning,” said Tybalt. “Whatever comes next, we’ll confront it. There’s nothing more than that to be done.”
I smiled a little. “Deal.”
Tybalt smiled back. It was nice how normal that was starting to seem to me.
The stream of pages and courtiers heading for the ballroom grew thicker as we moved through the knowe. Their burdens had grown more obviously awkward; they’d had time to empty the lighter parts of the armory, stripping away the arrows, daggers, and chain mail shirts that blocked the serious weapons of war. I suppressed a shudder as a Candela staggered by, half-bent under the weight of a Bridge Troll-sized shield.
Purebloods are immortal, but they can be killed. Faerie wars used to decimate the population so much that entire races died out, becoming legends even to the fae. We kill each other when the excuse seems good enough—as if there’s any excuse good enough to justify killing something that was meant to live forever. The Luidaeg once said, in a moment of particularly black humor, that nature made us territorial and temperamental because otherwise we’d have overrun the world within five generations. Times like this made me wonder if she was right.
No one came to stop us or wave good-bye as we stepped out the exit and into the warm air of the mortal night. Everything smelled green, like the mustard flowers and tall grass that grew all throughout Paso Nogal Park. It was the kind of night that makes war seem impossible, even when you know that it’s inevitable. I sighed and started down the hill, with Tybalt pacing alongside me. His presence was reassuring. I’m not used to being uneasy in Shadowed Hills, but with the threat of war so close at hand, I couldn’t help but wonder about the shadows too deep for me to see into. Having Tybalt there made it easier; if anything attacked me, I wouldn’t be fighting it off alone.
Crickets chirped in the tall grass, and pixies chattered in the distance, their tinkling-bell voices adding to the illusion that everything was business as usual in Shadowed Hills. That illusion died when we reached the edge of the parking lot, and I stopped just short of the pavement, swearing under my breath.
Quentin was sitting on the hood of my car, his increasingly copper-colored hair reclaiming some of its childhood gold in the glow of the streetlights. A rose goblin was curled in his lap. He stroked its yellow-gray back with one hand as it kneaded his leg, keeping the bulk of his attention on one of the more common pathways down the hill.
Tybalt followed my gaze, and blinked. “Perhaps he wishes to avoid heavy lifting?”
“Oberon only knows,” I said, and started walking again. “Come on.”
The rose goblin spotted us before Quentin did. It stood, rattling its thorns in greeting as it stepped off him. Quentin looked up, eyes wide. Then he slid off the hood, standing at something approximating attention. No longer in possession of a convenient lap, the rose goblin jumped off the car and trotted into the darkness.
“Quentin.” I stopped in front of him, Tybalt a silent presence by my side. “Shouldn’t you be emptying the armory with everybody else?”
“No, sir.” Quentin looked me squarely in the eyes. “I should be right here.”
Sir? Uh-oh. “Why?”
“In times of war, all squires are required to attend their knights.” He flashed a smile. “That’s you.”
I groaned. “Did Sylvester put you up to this?”
“Of course.” Quentin shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I argued. He says you’ve got more problems than just the war. I’m your squire. Your problems are my problems.”
“You have a squire now?” asked Tybalt, sounding amused. “When were you going to mention this to me?”
“Oh, half an hour after never,” I said. “Quentin, this is too dangerous. You need to stay at Shadowed Hills.”
“So this is more dangerous than getting shot by a crazy woman?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Oh, so it’s more dangerous than stealing my human girlfriend back from the crazy Firstborn who turned her into a horse.”
“Not exactly, but—” I stopped. “You’re not going to let me talk you out of this, are you?”
Quentin smiled. “No, sir. I learned stubbornness from the best.”
Tybalt made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone coughing to cover laughter. I shot him a dirty look. He coughed harder. Right. I sighed, handing Quentin the box from Raysel’s room before digging the car keys from my pocket. I dropped them on top of the box.
“Unlock the car and get in. Do not mess with the radio.”
Quentin’s smile became a grin. “Yes, sir!”
“And stop calling me ‘sir.’ ”
This time, Tybalt definitely laughed. I scowled at both of them. Still grinning, Quentin ducked away and moved to open the car. I turned my focus to Tybalt. “So.”
“I have got to get a phone.” The urge to rake my hair back was thwarted by the things in my hands. I settled for blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “If you need me, call the apartment. I’ll check in regularly, and May can pass along any messages.”
“I suppose that will have to be sufficient.” Etienne sighed. “This is a twice-cursed mess, October.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. But I’ll do the best I can to bring it to a resolution that doesn’t kill us all.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Etienne, and bowed before turning to walk slowly toward the throne room doors. He was moving like that to give us time to get out of the area before Sylvester could call me back. I know an escape when it’s offered to me, and I took it without hesitating. Nodding toward the end of the hall to signal Tybalt to follow, I started briskly for the exit.
It was long past time to get moving. The world wasn’t going to hold still while I caught up with it.
TWELVE
TYBALT WAITED UNTIL THERE WAS a corner and half a hallway between us and Etienne before asking, “So now what happens?”
“Now I call Walther and ask him to analyze the contents of the vial,” I said, nodding toward the box I was carrying. “I’m willing to bet that it’s poison, but I’d like specifics. I’m going to check with the Luidaeg to see if she’s arranged that meeting with Dianda. After that, I’ll head for the Queen’s Court, and . . .” I sighed. “After that comes whatever comes after that. I can’t be any more specific. A nap might be nice.”
“It’s a beginning,” said Tybalt. “Whatever comes next, we’ll confront it. There’s nothing more than that to be done.”
I smiled a little. “Deal.”
Tybalt smiled back. It was nice how normal that was starting to seem to me.
The stream of pages and courtiers heading for the ballroom grew thicker as we moved through the knowe. Their burdens had grown more obviously awkward; they’d had time to empty the lighter parts of the armory, stripping away the arrows, daggers, and chain mail shirts that blocked the serious weapons of war. I suppressed a shudder as a Candela staggered by, half-bent under the weight of a Bridge Troll-sized shield.
Purebloods are immortal, but they can be killed. Faerie wars used to decimate the population so much that entire races died out, becoming legends even to the fae. We kill each other when the excuse seems good enough—as if there’s any excuse good enough to justify killing something that was meant to live forever. The Luidaeg once said, in a moment of particularly black humor, that nature made us territorial and temperamental because otherwise we’d have overrun the world within five generations. Times like this made me wonder if she was right.
No one came to stop us or wave good-bye as we stepped out the exit and into the warm air of the mortal night. Everything smelled green, like the mustard flowers and tall grass that grew all throughout Paso Nogal Park. It was the kind of night that makes war seem impossible, even when you know that it’s inevitable. I sighed and started down the hill, with Tybalt pacing alongside me. His presence was reassuring. I’m not used to being uneasy in Shadowed Hills, but with the threat of war so close at hand, I couldn’t help but wonder about the shadows too deep for me to see into. Having Tybalt there made it easier; if anything attacked me, I wouldn’t be fighting it off alone.
Crickets chirped in the tall grass, and pixies chattered in the distance, their tinkling-bell voices adding to the illusion that everything was business as usual in Shadowed Hills. That illusion died when we reached the edge of the parking lot, and I stopped just short of the pavement, swearing under my breath.
Quentin was sitting on the hood of my car, his increasingly copper-colored hair reclaiming some of its childhood gold in the glow of the streetlights. A rose goblin was curled in his lap. He stroked its yellow-gray back with one hand as it kneaded his leg, keeping the bulk of his attention on one of the more common pathways down the hill.
Tybalt followed my gaze, and blinked. “Perhaps he wishes to avoid heavy lifting?”
“Oberon only knows,” I said, and started walking again. “Come on.”
The rose goblin spotted us before Quentin did. It stood, rattling its thorns in greeting as it stepped off him. Quentin looked up, eyes wide. Then he slid off the hood, standing at something approximating attention. No longer in possession of a convenient lap, the rose goblin jumped off the car and trotted into the darkness.
“Quentin.” I stopped in front of him, Tybalt a silent presence by my side. “Shouldn’t you be emptying the armory with everybody else?”
“No, sir.” Quentin looked me squarely in the eyes. “I should be right here.”
Sir? Uh-oh. “Why?”
“In times of war, all squires are required to attend their knights.” He flashed a smile. “That’s you.”
I groaned. “Did Sylvester put you up to this?”
“Of course.” Quentin shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I argued. He says you’ve got more problems than just the war. I’m your squire. Your problems are my problems.”
“You have a squire now?” asked Tybalt, sounding amused. “When were you going to mention this to me?”
“Oh, half an hour after never,” I said. “Quentin, this is too dangerous. You need to stay at Shadowed Hills.”
“So this is more dangerous than getting shot by a crazy woman?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Oh, so it’s more dangerous than stealing my human girlfriend back from the crazy Firstborn who turned her into a horse.”
“Not exactly, but—” I stopped. “You’re not going to let me talk you out of this, are you?”
Quentin smiled. “No, sir. I learned stubbornness from the best.”
Tybalt made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone coughing to cover laughter. I shot him a dirty look. He coughed harder. Right. I sighed, handing Quentin the box from Raysel’s room before digging the car keys from my pocket. I dropped them on top of the box.
“Unlock the car and get in. Do not mess with the radio.”
Quentin’s smile became a grin. “Yes, sir!”
“And stop calling me ‘sir.’ ”
This time, Tybalt definitely laughed. I scowled at both of them. Still grinning, Quentin ducked away and moved to open the car. I turned my focus to Tybalt. “So.”
