Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

“I hate it when people say things like that.” I let my illusions go as I opened the car door. From the sudden blend of scents in the air, I knew Li Qin and Quentin were doing the same.

I had barely finished standing when a man appeared in front of me, tall, thin, and translucent as clear water poured into a human-shaped mold. He was holding a sword as clear as the rest of him, its point only a few inches from my throat. I froze. I could see more of the spun-glass fae appearing out of the corner of my eye. They weren’t teleporting. They were just becoming visible.

“Guess we got that army after all,” I said, and breathed in sharply, hoping it would be taken as a sign of fear.

The sword at my throat didn’t waver. “What is your business?” demanded the man, in a voice only slightly more substantial than the rest of him.

“We’re here to request audience with Duchess Treasa Riordan,” I said. I knew the taste of his heritage, even if I couldn’t see him clearly: Folletti. Their race hailed from the Cloud Kingdoms, where it was easier for someone who was essentially a living piece of the wind to get by. They only came to land to sell their services to the highest bidder. In this case, it must have been Riordan. Somehow, knowing that she had invisible guards didn’t make me feel any better about being there.

Li Qin walked around the car to stand beside me, unbothered by the translucent men with swords. “I am allowed, under the mourner’s flag, to visit these lands and claim hospitality.”

“Well, sure, honey, but that doesn’t mean you get to go bringing guests.” The new voice was female, more solid than the whispering tones of the Folletti. I turned to see a Daoine Sidhe woman in jeans and a black T-shirt with “The Careful Application of Terror is Also a Form of Communication” printed across the front. Her only jewelry was a ruby choker, red against the white of her throat. “Sergio, you can take your boys and go back on patrol. I’ve got these ones.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The Folletti in front of me slid his sword back into an unseen sheath, sketched a bow, and vanished. The other Folletti did the same. My hair was ruffled by a sudden wind, and the taste of their presence vanished from my mouth.

“Hello, Treasa,” said Li Qin. “You’re looking well.”

Duchess Treasa Riordan looked more than well. Like most Daoine Sidhe, she looked radiant, even dressed like she was getting ready to make a munchies run before a night of cramming for exams. Her shoulder-length hair was a shade of red so dark it verged on black and shattered the light into prismatic shards when she moved. Her features were exquisite, and her figure could have convinced a fashion magazine that jeans were the only appropriate attire for the season. Gorgeous isn’t uncommon in Faerie. Still, I sometimes think I see certain people so often that their beauty stops affecting me the way it should. I wasn’t having that problem with Riordan. Just looking at her made my heart hurt a little bit.

“And you’re looking like you’re taking advantage of mourner’s rights. I’m counting your hours, Li. One minute over, you’re on my land, your ass is mine.” Duchess Riordan said this as calmly and pleasantly as a normal person might ask her guests if they wanted a cup of coffee.

“I am aware,” said Li Qin, taking it in stride.

“Just so we’re all on the same page here.” Duchess Riordan turned to me and Quentin. Her eyes were an impossible shade of frosted lilac, like flowers that had been left outside during a cold snap. “And you are?”

“October Daye of Shadowed Hills, Your Grace.” I bowed. Being a knight means I don’t have to curtsy unless I want to. Bowing was equally appropriate, and it would hopefully make me look like I was a little dense when it came to courtly behavior, rather than making me seem rude. Riordan was an unknown factor.