One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“I’ll do what I can,” I said, and reached for the box, only to jerk my hands away as soon as I touched it. I could feel Dean’s blood through the wood, still as connected to Faerie as when it was running through his veins. There was a time when I could have held the finger in my hand and not felt anything, and now I could hear the blood calling me through sealed, enchanted wood. Just one more thing to thank my mother for.

Slowly, more prepared this time, I grasped the box again. For a moment, I thought Patrick wasn’t going to let me take it from him. Then he sighed, unlocking his fingers. “Find them?” It was closer to a plea than a request, filled with a parent’s need to have his heart returned. I’ve heard that tone in a lot of voices, including my own.

“I’ll do what I can,” I repeated. I wanted to make wild promises and swear that it would all be okay, but I couldn’t do that to him.

“Thank you,” he said, voice solemn. “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you” is a binding contract in Faerie. For once, I didn’t flinch when I heard it. “You’re welcome,” I said, and glanced around the Undersea delegation. Connor knew what came next. He blanched. None of the others seemed to have a clue. Shaking my head, I turned back to Patrick.

“You know what it takes for me to get answers from this,” I said.

Patrick nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“I can do it here, or I can leave you here while I take care of things. It’s up to you. I won’t make you watch.”

“I need to see,” said Patrick. “I appreciate you trying to spare me, but—”

“I understand. I’d feel the same. But do your people need to see this?” He paled. I continued, “Let’s take the third option. They stay here, and you come with me.”

He hesitated before nodding, slowly. The Roane woman gave his arm another reassuring pat.

“There, there, my lovely one. She’ll steer you sure enough. Just never let her near the silver. Line of thieves, hers is, and they’d rob even royalty blind.” She turned a mad, serene smile on me. “I know you’ve not stolen half a heartbeat from a stolen child as yet, but you will, given time. You will.”

I frowned. “May?”

“Yes?”

“Take care of the delegation. Quentin and Raj can help with the refreshments. Your Grace, if you’ll come with me?” I didn’t wait for an answer before turning on my heel and walking toward the hall. The box was starting to vibrate in my hands. The blood knew I was there; it wanted to be heard.

Patrick followed me down the hall to the room where I’d gone to summon the night-haunts. It was the only space I could be sure we’d have entirely to ourselves, and there was something fitting, somehow, in going there to ride the blood of someone I desperately hoped was still alive.

He didn’t say anything about the furniture cluttering the hall. That was a definite point in his favor. He did, however, look deeply discomforted when I led him into the solarium and closed the door. Maybe he was just now realizing the reality of what I was about to do.

I walked to the center of the room and sat, cross-legged, in the circle of blood I’d drawn there earlier. If Patrick wondered why I had a circle of blood ready and waiting, he had the good manners not to ask. The vibrations from the box were getting stronger. The blood wanted my attention, and I had to either give in or get it away from me. I glanced back to Patrick, watching him sit across from me. He winced when he bent his knees. Then, meeting my eyes, he nodded.

I opened the box.

The interior was cushioned in dark blue velvet, with Dean’s severed finger resting in the middle like a macabre parody of a woman’s finest jewels. I looked up at Patrick one last time.

“You really don’t have to be here for this,” I said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” he said.

I hesitated before reaching into the box, scooping up the finger. It was almost obscenely light, and the blood was nearly screaming now that it was so close to me. I gave Patrick a final glance, and turned my attention to the task at hand.

Dean’s finger had been severed at the joint without splintering the bone. I could analytically respect that—it would have made it easier to stop the bleeding—even as I wanted to kill the people responsible. Closing my eyes, I raised the finger’s severed end to my lips, and drank.





TWENTY-SIX