One Salt Sea
Page 60

The door from the servants’ halls was concealed behind a stand of love-lies-bleeding. I stepped through and eased the door closed before moving into the open. “Tybalt?”
He whirled, eyes going wide. Then he smiled so broadly that it was like a second sunrise, starting toward me at a pace just shy of a jog. “October,” he said, relief naked in his tone. “You’re awake.”
“It had to happen eventually,” I said. He reached for my hands. I pulled them away, crossing my arms until I was practically hugging myself, like somehow that would defend me. From what, I didn’t entirely know. “What happened back there?”
“I—you were—I saw—” Tybalt stopped, and sighed, something unendurably weary in his eyes. “They almost shot you. I had to remove you from the line of fire.”
“So you pushed me into the Shadow Roads? Maeve’s teeth, Tybalt, did you not pause to think that maybe something could go wrong with that particular stroke of genius?”
He shook his head. “No. I did not pause. I did not hesitate. Your life was in danger, and while I knew the Shadow Roads would be less than hospitable, I also knew they wouldn’t kill you. I’m sorry to have harmed you. I’m sorry to have caused you distress. But what I did, I did to save you, and I would do it again, were the same moment to be set before me.”
I glared at him. He glared back. Finally, I said, “I’m supposed to be at the Queen’s Court at dusk. I should really get moving if I’m going to be on time.”
“Then we should go.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“We,” he said, firmly. “Be as angry with me as you like, October; the fact remains that you need me, at least for now. As I have already said, I’m sorry to have harmed you. I’m not sorry, in the slightest, to have saved you.”
I sighed. “You’re right. Come on.” The question of how we’d get from Pleasant Hill to San Francisco without my car or a trip down the Shadow Roads could be answered once we started moving. If all else failed, I could always call Danny.
“October . . .”
“Not now.” I shook my head. “We need to have this conversation, but we need to do it at a time that isn’t now. After Gilly’s back. After we stop this war. After I’ve had time to finish being mad at you.”
Tybalt smiled, very slightly, and nodded. “I suppose I can accept that.”
“Good,” I said. “Now come on.”
We walked to the garden door. The hall outside was deserted. That made sense. It was afternoon; most of Shadowed Hills would be asleep for a few more hours at least.
“Where do we begin?” Tybalt asked.
Now that I was past the initial rush of fury, every inch of me was screaming that I needed to go, go, find my daughter, and let the rest of Faerie hang. I couldn’t do that. Thankfully, I didn’t have to; finding Gillian would mean finding Rayseline, and the missing Lorden boys. I could do everything at once—assuming I could accomplish anything at all.
“First, we need to see Sylvester,” I said. “I have to tell him what we’ve learned. He needs to understand what’s been going on.”
“This isn’t likely to be something he’ll want to hear.”
I sighed. “It never is, is it?”
I could hear voices up ahead; some people were already awake and moving around. I picked up my pace, and was rewarded with the sight of two pages in the hall just around the corner, both of them sagging in that “up way too early” way. I vaguely recognized them as Quentin’s contemporaries and members of his general social circle within the knowe. Somehow, they looked like they were at most half his age. He’d been doing a lot of growing up lately, and doing it fast.
The Glastig spotted us first. His eyes went huge, and he poked his Cornish Pixie companion in the side, fast, before jerking his head in our direction. Her eyes got even bigger. By the time we reached their position, both of them were standing at attention, spines locked like they’d been replaced with iron bars.
“Countess Daye—” began one, in perfect synch with the “Sir Daye—” from the other.
I smiled a little. “You should really get your titles straight before you try that again,” I said. “Is Sylvester available?”
The Cornish Pixie swallowed hard. “He’s waiting for you,” she said. “In the throne room. He said to say if we saw you.”
Sylvester had to know I’d go looking for Tybalt as soon as I woke up, and there are dozens of routes we could have taken from there. I raised an eyebrow. “How many of you does he have stationed around the knowe, waiting for me?”
“All of us, sir,” said the Glastig.
“That’s my liege.” I sighed. “Do me a favor? If you see any of the other pages, let them know that I’ve been found, and they should get some sleep already.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Cornish Pixie.
Neither of them moved. They couldn’t. Until Tybalt and I passed them, propriety demanded they stay exactly where they were. I offered them a shallow bow and started walking again, Tybalt walking along with me.
He waited until they were out of earshot before murmuring, “You do seem to enjoy making things difficult for yourselves in the Divided Courts. A Cait Sidhe page would have tracked us down, delivered the message, and gone off to chase rats until his mother called him home.”
“Yeah, well, we get to skip the rat-chasing part, so I’m going to call us even.”
Tybalt smirked. We walked on.
The throne room doors were standing open. I expected to find Sylvester and Luna alone, since everyone sane would be getting some sleep while they still could. Instead, we walked in on an earnest conference of knights, all of them assembled around the dais while Sylvester talked to them in a hushed voice. Luna was absent. Maybe that was for the best, given what I was about to tell her husband.
Grianne’s Merry Dancers were the first to spot us. They abandoned their position near the ceiling to swoop down and weave a quick pattern around our heads before sailing onward to circle Grianne. She turned. The other two knights in attendance—Etienne and Garm—did the same. Sylvester straightened, a look of naked relief sweeping across his face. The others stepped aside as he moved from the dais to the floor, and started toward us.