One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“What in Oberon’s name is a hand of bones?” I wasn’t asking now; I was demanding.

My tone caught the Luidaeg’s attention. She turned to face me, still clutching the bundle against her chest. The things I’d taken for sticks before rattled against each other, and something in the sound sang to me, telling me that yes, these things had once known blood. “A hand of bones is a promise to the land,” she said, voice tight. “Each piece comes from the hand of a former reigning monarch—one who no longer reigns, for whatever reason. The night-haunts leave the bones of the hand behind for us, to mark the fall of a regent. This,” she touched a bone that looked like all the others around it, “came from the hand of King Gilad, who ruled the Mists before your current Queen stepped up to claim his empty throne.”

“Okay, that’s charming, but what does it have to do with anything?” I stalked to the back of the car and unlocked the trunk. My baseball bat was on the top. I grabbed it, tossing it to Quentin. “What does a hand of bones do?”

“They mark a promise made on a Kingdom’s throne,” said Quentin. He hugged the baseball bat against his chest, shaking his head. “If the Goblins had that, it’s because someone made them a promise on the Mists. What were they promised?”

Tybalt looked past the Luidaeg, looking straight into my eyes as he said, “Goldengreen. The ones who hired the Goblins promised that, when the war was done and the Kingdom was theirs, the Goblins would have Goldengreen, and respectability.”

“My house is not for sale,” I said. I gave the grisly trophy the Luidaeg held another look, and asked, “Did the Queen give it to them?”

“No.” Tybalt’s answer was quick. “The Goblin who . . . surrendered . . . it to me described a woman with red hair, and a dark-haired man who stood behind her, in the shadows, watching.”

“Rayseline,” said Connor wearily. He walked toward Tybalt, holding one hand out, palm up. “You said you brought weapons?”

“It seemed rude not to bring enough for everyone.” Tybalt produced a crossbow from inside his coat and passed it to Connor, along with a leather-wrapped packet of arrows. “I look forward to fighting beside you.”

Connor looked at him like he couldn’t quite figure out whether Tybalt was messing with him or not. Tybalt looked back with an expression of complete sincerity. Finally, Connor nodded. “It will be an honor,” he said, and turned away.

The Luidaeg gave the hand of bones one more angry look before tossing it into the backseat of the car and slamming the door. “We should be moving,” she said. “Time isn’t standing still while we mess around down here.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. Looking back to Tybalt, I asked, “Is it just you?”

“For now,” he said. “Raj is bringing the knights from Shadowed Hills. I understand your reluctance to wait for them, but a little last-minute cavalry never hurt anyone. My subjects stand watch at Goldengreen, and at your apartment, in case this is a diversion of some sort.”

“Good thinking.” I shut the trunk. “I’m glad you came.”

“No other places beckoned half so sweetly,” said Tybalt. “I’ll keep watch as we go.” He half-bowed, and was gone in a swirl of pennyroyal and musk. I looked down at the tabby tomcat now standing by my feet.

“Well?” I asked. “Were you going to take point or not?”

Tail high, he turned and trotted toward the open parking lot gate. I looked at the others.

“Come on. Let’s go get my daughter back.” Not waiting to see if they’d follow, I started after Tybalt. One way or another, this was going to end.





TWENTY-NINE