One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“Tybalt—” I stopped, swallowed, and finished, “If you don’t find anything, come back to the apartment?”


“Little fish.” He reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, and smiled. “As if you could prevent it?” Looking to Sylvester, he asked, “If I may?”

“Open roads,” Sylvester replied.

Tybalt smirked. Then he turned, stalking toward a shadow at the edge of the room. The shadow spread as he drew near, folding around him like a veil, and he was gone.

I turned to Etienne. “Are you sure you can do this?” It was an indelicate question, but I needed to be sure. Some Tuatha can cross continents in the blink of an eye, while others can only handle shorter hops. In all the time I’d known him, I’d never seen Etienne move farther than one side of the knowe to the other.

He looked affronted. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure, October. Remember yourself.”

“Hey, I’m the one they gave a County to, remember?” My sense of humor is sometimes the only defense I have—inappropriate as it often is. I looked at Sylvester. “We have to go.”

“I know.” He smiled, just a little. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know you won’t be safe. None of us is safe. But if you can, be careful?”

“If I can be, I will. But there’s nothing I won’t give up for my daughter. You understand that, don’t you?”

Sylvester nodded. Barely. He looked like he might break if he tried to do anything more. “I do. And I also understand what that means. Now go. There’s a great deal to do, and time is so very short.”

“I know.” I turned to Etienne. “Let’s go.”

Etienne raised his hand, transcribing an arch in the air. The scent of limes and sweet cedar smoke followed the motion, gathering as he pulled his spell together. There was a pause, like the world was holding its breath, and a pale disk appeared in front of him. It was the size of a door, hanging suspended in midair. I couldn’t see through it.

“After you,” said Etienne.

I looked around the hall one more time—maybe for the last time, considering what we were up against. And then I turned to the disk, took a deep breath, and stepped through.





TWENTY


THERE WAS A MOMENT OF blinding light, like we were stepping between levels of a knowe. Then everything froze, a second turning into a dozen seconds, and finally into what felt like the better part of an hour. Nothing moved, not even me. That’s how I knew we were still in transit. I was starting to wonder if it was ever going to end—

—and then we were standing on the marble floor of the entry hall leading into the Queen’s knowe. Etienne looked strained but reasonably untroubled by the transition. I wasn’t quite so lucky. I blundered forward until I hit the point where the wall turned misty, leaning through the phantom stone to vomit into the water just outside. And people wonder why I skip meals when I’m working.

I pulled myself back into the knowe once I was sure I had nothing left to lose. “That wasn’t fun,” I said, wiping my mouth as I turned to Etienne. “Let’s not do that again.”

“As you’ve just been violently ill through the only exit I’m aware of, I think we may not have a choice,” said Etienne. “Unless you feel like going wading?”

The thought made my stomach do another slow flip. “Okay. We can do it one more time.” I wiped my mouth again, wishing I had something to take the taste away. “Come on.”

“Naturally.”

We walked down the silent hall to the doors—unguarded for once, leaving the knowe open to potential attack from outside. Either that was sloppy work, or I was missing something. There were no obvious wards set. If there was anything lurking to strike at unwelcome guests, we were going to find out the hard way.