One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“I know. But for right now, I need you to trust me. If you can’t trust me, trust the Luidaeg. She’s the one who first got me involved.” I shook my head. “Truth be told, she sometimes has more faith in me than I have in myself, but I won’t let her down if I can help it. I’m going to find them, and I promise, I will call you if there’s anything you can do to help me bring them home.”


“She’ll bring them home to us,” said the Roane woman. Smiling, she continued, “What she has to pay is dearer than salt, but she’ll bring them home.”

I blinked at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I don’t believe I freed it,” she said. “Mary does me well enough.”

That couldn’t be her real name. The fae avoid duplicating names when they can, and “Mary” would have been taken centuries ago. Still, there’s a long, proud tradition of pseudonyms in Faerie. I bowed, saying, “October Daye, Countess—”

“Countess of Goldengreen, the land that falls to rise and falls again, daughter of Amandine the liar, mother of Gillian with the eyes half-open but so soon to close, she who’ll stand by the burning tree with a brand bare in her hand and a song upon her lips, yes, yes, we know you,” she said, waving a hand. “Trust her, my Pat. She believes her words, and if she lies, she doesn’t know it.”

I stared, first at her, then at Patrick. He flashed me a small, strained smile.

“Mary holds the Roane gift of prophecy a bit more directly than most,” he said. “You learn to filter what she says until you find the useful parts.”

“So you understand her?” I asked, fighting the urge to shake Mary until she told me what she knew about my daughter in words I could understand. It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t be diplomatic. That didn’t do a thing to stop my wanting to do it.

“I’ve had years of practice.”

The Undersea fae were finally calming. Mary looked up at me, smiling distantly. “You’ve done but the start of what’s to do, and still you have our gratitude, daughter of Amandine. You’ll understand soon enough.” She paused, tilting her head to the side, and added, “She waits. They’ve not hurt her. Ask no more, for I don’t know it.”

I stiffened. “You’re talking about Gillian. Where is she?”

She raised a hand. “I’ve said what I know.”

“She’s telling the truth,” said Patrick. I glanced at him, frowning. “Mary never sees everything. If she did . . .”

“You wouldn’t need me,” I finished wearily. “Is there anything else you need right now? I need to get back to work.”

“What you’ll do, you’ll do. Come, my Pat. My mother’s soon to be involved, and it’s best if we not be standing in whatever path she comes by. She favors solitude. I try to do well by her when I can.” Mary smiled again, more sadly, and turned to the others. “Up, then, all of you lot, and away! We’ve news of all the world and more to carry to our lady.” Again, her gaze went to Connor. “Not you, soldier boy. Your place is by your lighthouse keeper’s daughter.”

Patrick looked briefly concerned before inclining his head, saying, “Connor, stay here. It’s a good idea for us to keep the channels of communication open, especially now.” Turning to me, he bowed as deeply as if he were bowing to the Queen herself. “The sea will not forget what you’ve done for us, or what we’ve done to you.”

“I appreciate that.” I returned the bow, putting every ounce of courtly grace that I possessed into the gesture. “I’ll throw you another bottle if I learn anything else. Until then, please try to keep Dianda from doing anything rash?”

“You credit me with a great deal more power than I possess, but I’ll try,” said Patrick wryly, and turned to go. The delegation from Saltmist parted to let him take the lead before following him out the door. Patrick’s shoulders were higher than they’d been when he arrived; he was walking like a man, and not like someone who’d been beaten. That was good. He was going to need his strength.