Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

“Hang on.” I’d attuned the first charm by touching it to a place where Chelsea’s magic had been used, and I attuned the second charm by touching it to the first. Feeling only slightly foolish, I leaned forward and tapped the charm against Etienne’s shoulder.

The purple flared, and turned back to the familiar neutral shade of frozen starlight.

“It knows who you are now,” I said. “That means we can keep using it to look for Chelsea and not worry about you throwing it off.”

Etienne eyed the charm. “Do you understand how it works?”

“Nope,” I said, with more cheer than necessary. “I usually don’t know how magic works. I use it anyway. Are you feeling up to casting a don’t-look-here over the both of us? I lost a lot of blood getting out of my room, and I’m not sure how many of those I can cast.”

That wasn’t strictly true: losing the blood slowed me down for a few minutes, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything to slow me down now. At the same time, if I was going to be the one picking every lock we came to, I couldn’t also be the one putting up and taking down the don’t-look-here spells. I would exhaust myself before we accomplished anything useful, and then I wouldn’t be able to do anything for anyone. Not Chelsea, not Quentin, and not Tybalt.

Assuming Tybalt was even alive. Samson could never be King. He could still kill the man who held the throne.

Etienne paused, apparently seeing the change in my expression. “October? Are you all right?”

No. “I’m just worried about the others. Can you cast the spell or not?”

“I believe so.” Etienne took a breath before raising his hand and sketching a quick series of motions in the air. The smell of limes and cedar smoke rose, and the spell settled down on my shoulders like a veil. Etienne lowered his hand. “That should hold.”

“Good. Come on.” I turned to head back toward the door. Etienne followed, and I did my best to match my pace to his. Don’t-look-here spells are a form of illusion. This one would work best if we stayed close to one another. Besides, I didn’t trust him yet not to fall.

His clothing hid most of the evidence of the beating he’d received at the hands of Riordan’s guards, but I could see the signs of it in the stiffness when he moved and the way he was favoring his left leg. I was just glad they’d satisfied themselves with blindfolding him, rather than putting his eyes out entirely. That probably meant Riordan thought he might be useful later and wanted him intact when later came. Maybe that was an upside to dealing with sane people. They’d kill you just as dead, but they understood how to conserve their resources until they didn’t need them anymore.

Etienne’s pace was slow enough that we moved through the rest of the floor at about half-speed. The Luidaeg’s charm continued to glow a neutral white the whole time. Eventually, we came to a flight of stairs, spiraling both upward and downward from where we stood.

I paused at the doorway to the stairs, and then motioned for Etienne to remain where he was. He nodded, stepping back. I went six steps up toward the next floor, breathed in, and retreated. I did the same with the floor beneath us. Then I returned to Etienne, stepping close as I murmured, “Definitely Folletti on the floor below us. None I can spot on the floor above, although that doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“Then we go up,” he murmured back. I nodded, and together, we began making our way up the stairs.

Nothing stopped us as we climbed to the next landing, where another floor like the one we’d been kept on was waiting. Again, I motioned for Etienne to remain where he was while I stepped forward and checked for Folletti; again, if they were present, they weren’t close enough for me to detect them. I waved Etienne forward, and together, we made our way down the hall, looking for doors.