One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“It was . . . it was . . .” He paused, clearly searching for the words. Finally, he said, “It wasn’t honorable.”


Oberon spare me from pureblood honor. “I didn’t break the Law, I didn’t really hurt him, and I got the information we needed. He wouldn’t have given it to us any other way. Sometimes, when your options are limited, honor takes a back seat to necessity.” And it had felt good. That was probably the worst part: that I used the things Devin taught me, the way he taught me to use them, and it felt good.

Sometimes I lie to myself a little bit, and pretend that Sylvester was the only man who taught me to grow up. Then things happen—things always happen—and I remember that nothing was ever that simple.

Quentin nodded, expression thoughtful. “Am I going to have to do that?”

“That’s up to you. Someday, you may find yourself in a position where you feel like you don’t have a choice. When that happens, it’s better if you have a way to deal with it. You can only repair your honor if you survive.”

“I guess.” He pulled back into his own seat, brooding. I just drove.

The Luidaeg’s apartment wasn’t far from Bucer’s. She was waiting for us on the corner, looking as human as I’d ever seen her, with her curly black hair bound in untidy braids. Her cable-knit sweater was too big, bagging around her waist and making her look even younger than her human mien normally did. She could have passed for an awkward nineteen year old still getting used to her own skin, as long as whoever she was trying to fool never saw the almost-infinite age in her dark brown eyes.

I pulled up to the curb, idling the engine while Connor opened his door and climbed out, clearly intending to get into the back seat. Quentin was already getting out, grinning as he threw himself toward the Luidaeg. “Luidaeg!” he said, any lingering tension washed away by his joy at seeing the sea witch.

She caught him in a one-armed hug, returning his smile. It was a sincere expression, made all the sweeter by the knowledge of how rare her smiles tended to be. “Hey yourself, kiddo,” she said, letting him go and ruffling his hair. “Dad’s teeth, you’re getting huge. They need to stop feeding you. Dead kids don’t grow much.”

“Sometimes I consider it, but I don’t want to fill out the paperwork for a replacement,” I said. “Come on.”

Connor stayed where he was, blinking as the Luidaeg followed Quentin into the back seat. He looked at me for guidance. I shrugged, and motioned for him to get back in the car. We needed to get moving, and if the Luidaeg wanted to sit with Quentin, that was her business.

Quentin met the Luidaeg after Blind Michael stole Quentin’s human girlfriend. The Luidaeg was the one who gave him the chance to save her . . . by giving her up. He could have hated her for that. I probably would have. Instead, she wound up added to his personal pantheon of people worth trusting. Boys are weird.

I met the Luidaeg’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Her irises were a plain human brown, and mine were the no-color mist gray I inherited from my mother. I scowled, mostly at my own carelessness. Until that moment, I hadn’t actually thought about the fact that I wasn’t wearing a human disguise. Getting Gillian back would be a pyrrhic victory if I betrayed the existence of Faerie in the process.

The Luidaeg lifted her eyebrows, waiting for me to speak.

“Buckle up,” I said, and pulled away from the curb.

“I’ve cleared the roads between here and Muir Woods,” said the Luidaeg. “You can go as fast as you need to. No one’s going to stop us.”