One Salt Sea
Page 98

“Cool. I can bring Quentin for a visit next time I feel like letting the Luidaeg use dangerous enchantments on me.”
Dianda hesitated before asking, “Was she here?”
I didn’t even have to look to know that the Luidaeg was gone. “Yeah. She helped us get into the shallowing where Dean and Peter were being held.”
“It would be nice to see her again,” said Dianda wistfully. “It’s been a long time.”
“About that. Why is she here? If she’s the sea witch, shouldn’t she be in the Undersea, and not drinking all the damn Diet Coke in San Francisco?”
Dianda looked startled. “She abandoned the Undersea centuries ago. I thought she would have . . . she’s welcome in the waters any time she wants to come home. She left us, not the other way around.”
“Why?” asked Quentin.
“The Roane,” said Dianda simply. “They were her descendants. Almost all of them died. And she left.”
I thought back on her behavior around Connor, and asked, “Did the Selkies have something to do with it?”
Dianda nodded. That was all she had to do.
I took a deep breath, preparing to change the subject. “Your Grace, I’d like to talk to you about Dean. I have some ideas, if you’d be willing to hear them. About how we can make relations a little better between the land Courts and the Undersea.” I looked toward Patrick and his sons. The boys were sitting on the sand now, Patrick hovering nearby, like he was afraid they’d all be washed away at any moment.
Dianda followed my gaze. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s a little complicated, and we’re not actually done yet—Rayseline has been elf-shot. She’ll stand trial when she wakes up, but she wasn’t working alone, and the man I think she was working with is a trusted courtier in the Queen’s Court.” I raised a hand to cut off Dianda’s protest before it could begin. “I really don’t think the Queen was involved, but I need your help to prove it.”
“Help?” She tilted her head, assessing my expression. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, first, we call a man named Walther for a final bit of confirmation. And then we give Dugan a lot of rope, and see whether or not he hangs himself.” I smiled grimly, motioning for Sylvester to come closer. “Once Patrick’s done reassuring himself that your sons are okay, I can tell you what I’m thinking.”
Dianda nodded. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I truly can’t wait to hear.”
“Good,” I said. “I can’t wait either.”
THIRTY-FOUR
I WALKED INTO THE QUEEN’S COURT with an unconscious, emaciated teenage boy hanging limply in my arms. A hush fell, creating a bubble of silence that moved with me across the ballroom floor. Sylvester followed me, and his men followed him, all of them as silent and as solemn as I was. For once, the Queen had done nothing with my clothes, possibly because we’d all come courtesy of the Tuatha de Dannan shuttle service. Etienne would forgive me eventually. I hoped.
The Queen herself stood when she saw me coming, eyes narrowing as she marked our progress across the floor. “What have you brought me today, Countess Daye?” she asked, sinking slowly back into her throne. Her voice sent shivers racing along my spine, but she was holding back, not using it as the weapon that it sometimes was.
“I found the Lorden children,” I said, my eyes searching the crowd for Dugan. He was standing behind the Queen’s throne, just to the left of the dais. “They’re injured, but alive.”
“Did you find the perpetrator of this horrible injustice?” asked the Queen, tone implying that it had been no such thing. Her eyes went to the boy in my arms, watching him hungrily. She probably saw him as a bargaining chip against his parents. That, more than everything else, told me that I’d been right: the Queen wasn’t involved in their disappearance. She’d been just as much a patsy as everyone else.
“I did,” I said calmly. “Rayseline Torquill.”
“You can’t prove it!” shrieked an indignant voice behind me. I forced myself to keep looking straight ahead as everyone else turned. I knew what they’d see. A furious, rumpled Rayseline being held in place by her father’s hand, unable to break his grip enough to get away. We’d run the scene ten times on the beach to make sure we got it right, after my call to Walther confirmed that the sleeping tincture had been brewed by a Daoine Sidhe. “I didn’t do anything!”
Dugan stiffened, a look of pure panic flashing across his face.
That’s what I’d been waiting for. “If not you, then who?” I asked, still not looking behind me.
“Dugan! He said it would work! He said—”
“Dugan?” said the Queen, cutting “Raysel” off. “She’s delusional.”
“Is she?” I kept my eyes on Dugan, watching him, rather than the Queen. “He’s unlanded Daoine Sidhe, Your Highness. Everyone knows they get hungry sometimes. They get . . . anxious . . . to improve their positions. So I looked a little deeper. It turns out Rayseline isn’t the only one ready to point the finger. There’s a Glastig named Bucer O’Malley who’d be happy to testify.” I smiled thinly at Dugan. “The Undersea is going to be very interested in finding out who was behind the kidnapping. They’ll need someone to blame.”
“Perhaps—” began the Queen.
“He said everyone would forgive us because we’d make things so much better!” The sounds of a scuffle came from behind me, “Raysel” trying to break away from her captors. “Tell her, Dugan! Tell her what you promised me! You swore! You said—”
“Shut up!” snarled Dugan. He vaulted himself onto the dais, grabbing the Queen by the hair before she had a chance to react. The crowd gasped. He pulled a knife from inside his tunic, yanking her head back and pressing the blade against her throat. The metal gleamed dully. Even as far back as I was, I could feel the waves of sickness coming off of it.
“Okay, I didn’t consider the possibility of iron knives,” I muttered. “Get down. I need my hands.”
The boy in my arms opened his eyes. “Okay,” he said. The voice was Quentin’s, even if the face was Dean Lorden’s. The illusion held as he let me set him on his feet. When Garm disguises something, it damn well stays disguised.