One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“People will die if we don’t stop this. You could be one of them. So could I. We still have to do what we can.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen. I stood, shoving the shell into my pocket, and followed her.

Cagney and Lacey were sitting in front of the door, ears flat and tails lashing. The Luidaeg stopped, looking down at them. “Tell your King he can’t save her this time. My claim comes first, however far that means she has to go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter. They know what I mean.” She looked over her shoulder at me as she opened the door and stepped outside. “Be careful. Keep your eyes open. We don’t have time to screw around.”

“What are you—”

“Be careful,” she repeated, and closed the door.

I stared at the door for a moment, and then ran after her, wrenching it open. “Will you stop being obscure for ten seconds and explain yourself?” I demanded.

Dugan’s hand had been raised to knock. He lowered it. “Er,” he said.

I sagged, letting go of the doorknob. “Oh,” I said. “It’s you.”

Dugan Harrow worked for the Queen of the Mists. He was an untitled courtier from Deep Mists, and exactly the sort of prejudiced, arrogant bastard our system of nobility tends to encourage. The last time we “talked,” he was taking a really irritating amount of glee in carting me off to be executed.

We don’t get along.

Shaken by my distinctly nonstandard greeting, Dugan cleared his throat and asked, “May I come in?”

I gave him a weary look. “What time should I be there? Am I supposed to bring an escort?”

“I, uh . . . seven-thirty. And yes. It’s a formal event, and an escort is recommended.” Sounding unhappy, he added, “I was told to volunteer if—”

“That won’t be necessary.” I closed the door in his face, snapping the deadbolt into place with a decisive “click.” It was almost dawn; Connor might still be up if I called him soon. That would take care of the escort. As for the rest of it. . .

Missing children. The Luidaeg calling in my debts. Sometimes I wonder why I ever bother thinking life could be simple. That only happens in fairy tales.





THREE


THE PHONE RANG AS I WAS REACHING FOR IT. I grimaced and picked up, mentally making excuses for why I had to hang up immediately. “Hello?”

“Oh, good. You’re still up.”

All the tension went out of my shoulders. I slumped against the hallway wall, an involuntary smile tugging at my lips. “Connor, hey. I was just about to call you.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m still up, too.” Connor’s laugh was slightly distracted, like his attention was being pulled in eight directions at once. “Can I see you?”

“That’s why I was calling. Connor—”

“Tell me about it when I get there. I’m right down the street.” He hung up before I could object. Not that I’d intended to; I needed a date to the Queen’s Court, and more than that, I needed a friend. I needed Connor.

Connor O’Dell and I started “dating” when I was a teenager. We broke up because his family said he couldn’t waste his time with a changeling, but we never got over each other, not even when I hooked up with a human man and he wound up in a diplomatic marriage to a crazy woman. I don’t think it surprised anyone when Connor celebrated his annulment by asking me to join him for breakfast. I know it didn’t surprise either of us when I said “yes.”