Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

Quentin nodded as he turned to face me. “Like I said: clever but common. If you don’t know the right pattern, you can try for hours and never get through.”


I raised an eyebrow. “So how did you…?”

“There are only ten right patterns. I learned them when I was a kid.” It was said with simple matter-of-factness. I decided to let it drop. We had bigger things to worry about than why Quentin knew how to break into any knowe that used a “clever but common” lock system for its service passages. Being fostered definitely seemed to come with some unusual skill sets.

“Duchess Riordan’s receiving room was this way,” I said, turning. “We might as well start our search in familiar territory. If Chelsea’s not there, we can go looking for the dungeons.”

“Which will doubtless be in the opposite direction,” said Tybalt.

“Yeah, but there’s going to be a connection between them,” said Quentin. “That way, she can send servants to check on anybody she has locked up, and she won’t have to wait long to hear back. When you’ve got somebody in your dungeon, you’re not usually feeling very patient.”

“You are just a wealth of unexpected information today,” I said. “We start with the receiving room. Tybalt…?”

“I’ll scout ahead.” The smell of musk and pennyroyal had barely settled when he was racing on four legs into the darkness, ears flat against his head and tail held straight out behind him. I could see his coat for a few seconds, bands of brown moving through the shadows. Then he was gone, not even leaving footprints behind.

“Stay close,” I said, gesturing for Quentin to move in next to me. “Get out your own charm. A little extra light could be a good thing in here—and it’s not going to make us any easier to spot. We’re already the only light in the place.”

Quentin nodded, digging the sphere from his pocket as he moved into the position I’d indicated. Together, the two charms were enough to make every detail of the walls visible. Not that there was much to see. If there were other doors around us, they were well fitted enough to be invisible, leaving nothing but blank wall both ahead of and behind us. I drew my knife with my free hand. Quentin did the same, producing a short sword I’d never seen before from his belt. I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, saying sheepishly, “I asked April if she had anything I could borrow when you didn’t come back for so long. I figured it was better if I was prepared to defend myself.”

“It was a smart move,” I said, and started walking. Quentin paced me. “There’s just one thing I want to know.”

“What’s that?”

“Why the hell did April have a sword? I don’t think there’s anyone in that County who was traditionally trained.”

“She didn’t say.”

“Right.”

We exchanged strained smiles—just two more idiots whistling past the graveyard—and walked on in silence. Quentin let me take the lead, although only by a few steps. It was reassuring to know that he was at my back. I wasn’t walking into yet another brutally stupid situation alone. I needed people. Losing Connor had made me lose sight of that for a little while. Even that little while had been too damn long. I had too much to live for to sit around letting myself be lost in mourning.

The light from our charms reflected off a pair of green eyes ahead of us. Quentin stiffened. I smiled and held out my arm to stop him from doing anything we’d all regret. “What did you find?” I asked.

The green eyes rose, going from floor level to the height of a normal man, and Tybalt stepped out of the dark. “You were right; the receiving hall is ahead. But there’s something strange about this passage.”

“What’s that?”

“It used to be used frequently. I can smell the tracks of dozens of people, all of them hurrying about their business.”