Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

“It was good to see you as well.” April didn’t stand; she just disappeared and reappeared next to me. “I am glad you were able to meet my secondary parent.”


“Me, too,” I said. It was odd to think of Li Qin as having been married to Jan, largely because it was hard to imagine Jan being married to anyone not made of circuitry and computer code. I guess we’re all more complicated than we look on the surface. As for why Quentin, who had been a Ducal page, hadn’t known about her…Li Qin didn’t seem to have a title of her own. Right or wrong, that would have made her irrelevant to the local political structure. If she hadn’t been married to Sylvester’s niece, he might have heard of her anyway, but Sylvester was oddly protective of information where Jan was concerned. That particular quirk kept finding new and surprising ways to bite us in the ass.

The door opened, and Li Qin stuck her head into the room. “Are you ready?” she asked. She had changed into her “slightly less insulting clothes,” leaving her ready for either a Renaissance Faire or a semiformal Court appearance, depending on how you looked at it. She was wearing a floor-length red brocade skirt a few shades darker than her rose-pink peasant blouse, with a waist-cincher corset in a red so deep that it was almost black. Her hair was loose around her face, hanging down below her shoulders, and she was wearing an illusion that made her seem human, adding whites to her eyes and slightly softening her face.

I blinked. Quentin blinked, too, and he said what I was thinking: “How did you lace yourself into that thing without help?”

“Velcro,” said Li Qin serenely. “If you would come with me, I’ll take you to the next stop on your chaperoned tour of the South Bay.”

“I always enjoy visiting crazy despots,” I said. “Let’s roll.”

“Bye, April,” said Quentin.

“Good-bye,” said April, and disappeared.

We didn’t see anyone as we walked back to the parking lot. The engine had barely had time to cool off. Li Qin took the front passenger seat without comment, apparently assuming that as navigator, she got to ride shotgun. I raised an eyebrow at Quentin. He shook his head. Even after all his time with me, my squire still had sufficient manners not to argue with a lady.

“Head for San Jose,” said Li Qin, once I was in the car with the engine started. “I’ll tell you where to turn when we get closer.”

“Got it.” I pulled out of the parking lot, the shadows of the eucalyptus trees ringing the company grounds dancing over my windshield like ghosts. The portcullis was up when we approached, and it dropped only after we were safely through. Quentin and I both sighed with relief.

Li Qin watched this with clear, if tired, amusement. Then she said, “I understand you were made Countess of Goldengreen?”

“Yeah, but I gave the title up. Dean Lorden is in charge of the County now.” More power to him. I’d hated being a Countess. I wasn’t equipped for it, and if I’d kept my fiefdom, I would probably have done some serious damage. Dean, on the other hand, was raised in a noble household. His mother, Dianda, was the Duchess of Saltmist, and when she wasn’t playing scary mermaid games, she ran a pretty good Duchy. She’d taught her sons to rule, even knowing that only one would ever inherit in the Undersea. Lucky Dean, he tripped over one of the rare land nobles who wanted her holdings about as much as she wanted a hole in the head. Maybe less.

“Good,” said Li Qin. “The fact that you had power and chose to give it up will tell Riordan that you’re either without ambition or dangerously unbalanced. Either way, you should be interesting enough not to throw out unheard.”

“What about me?” asked Quentin.

“You’re my squire, so clearly your folks are cool with you hanging out with a loony slacker,” I said amiably. “That makes you pretty harmless, politically speaking.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” said Quentin.