Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

“For today, embrace it,” advised Li Qin. “It may be what makes this a fruitful meeting.”


“Good old Duchess Riordan.” I shook my head. “That’s the problem with feudalism. You never get to vote the crazy ones out.”

“Don’t,” said Li Qin, with sudden sharpness. I glanced her way, surprised. She shook her head. “Don’t make the mistake of writing Treasa Riordan off as crazy. If you want madness, visit the Court at Golden Gate. Riordan has something a lot more dangerous.”

“What’s that?” asked Quentin.

“Ambition.” Li Qin said the word like it was coated in poison, something to be thrust away as quickly and as firmly as possible.

“Charming.” I glanced Li Qin’s way again as I drove. She was frowning. “Sorry.”

“I offered,” she said.

“Still.” I sighed. “So, new topic. Not to be rude or anything, but I’m pretty up on my fae taxonomy, and I’ve never seen a member of your race before. What are you?”

“That’s because not many of us live in North America, and most of the ones who do are in Southern California, Montreal, or Texas. We had a colony in San Francisco, but we moved to more stable ground shortly before the 1906 earthquake.” Li Qin shook her head. “We’re called Shyi Shuai. We…read luck, for lack of a better way of putting it.”

That explained how they’d been able to move to stable ground before the earthquake, rather than joining the exodus from the Bay Area that followed it. “Huh,” I said. “Neat.” I meant that, too. Now that I had the taste of her bloodline filed in my memory, I’d be able to identify any other Shyi Shuai purebloods or changelings I might encounter. “Who claims you?”

“Maeve,” said Li Qin. She gave me a sidelong look. “Now, to be polite, I must ask you the same question. Your squire is Daoine Sidhe. April informs me you’re not, although she says you once told her you were. What are you, and who claims you?”

“In my defense, I wasn’t lying at the time; I was misinformed,” I said. “I’m Dóchas Sidhe. My mother, Amandine, is our Firstborn, and Oberon was her father, so I suppose technically he claims us. No one else has put in a bid, anyway.”

“Dóchas Sidhe?” Li Qin frowned. “That’s familiar, somehow.”

“What? Where did you—”

“I don’t know. I think…the Library. I came here from Southern California a long time ago, to study there. I wanted to chart the genealogy of the Shyi Shuai in North America. I think that’s where I heard that name before. I’m sorry.” Li Qin shook her head, frown deepening. “I don’t really remember. It was a footnote, if that.”

“Right,” I said, and fell silent, pondering. The Libraries are the repository of fae history, going all the way back to the beginning. They’re invaluable resources…if you can get a pass, something that’s not always easy. I’d never even bothered to try. The librarians don’t let many people past their doors, and as a changeling, I was automatically at the bottom of their list.

Quentin’s had time to learn how to recognize my “I’m thinking, leave me alone” silences. He leaned forward, poking his head over the back of the seats, and asked Li Qin, “So why’d you stay up here, if you just came to study?”

“The usual reason,” said Li Qin. “I met a girl. Fell in love. Decided to stick around while she did a variety of insane, occasionally impossible things. Got married. Adopted a Dryad. Did my best to live happily ever after.”

“Oh,” said Quentin. Then he asked the one question I wasn’t sure how to word: “Why weren’t you here?”