One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

Sylvester gathered me close, making a soft shushing sound as he looked past me to the others. I couldn’t see them, but I could imagine their expressions, Quentin looking a little lost, the Luidaeg shaking her head in quiet negation.

“Ah,” Sylvester said. “I see. Etienne? Tavis?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Etienne. He walked past us, followed by the hulking shape of Sir Tavis, the only Bridge Troll in Sylvester’s service. Raj came close behind them, stopping at the outside edge of my range of vision.

“We came as fast as we could,” he said. “I had to get there, and then . . .”

“It’s all right, Raj.” I pulled away from Sylvester, taking a shaky breath, and wiped my eyes. I wanted to fall apart. I was going to fall apart. I just couldn’t do it yet. “You did good. You couldn’t have gotten here any faster.”

Whatever Raj was going to say died on his lips as he looked past me to the door into the shallowing. His eyes widened, pupils expanding. “What happened?”

“War,” I said, and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself not to cry. “This is why it’s bad, Raj. Remember this, for when you’re King someday. People get hurt.”

“I’ll remember,” whispered Raj.

“So will I,” said Quentin.

“Good.” I opened my eyes and turned to see Tavis standing next to the Luidaeg, Rayseline’s body hanging limply in his arms. Peter Lorden was staring at him with undisguised awe. I guess they don’t get many Bridge Trolls in the Undersea.

“Take her to the car, Tavis,” said Sylvester. His voice was tightly controlled. If I hadn’t known him so well, I might not have realized how hard he was fighting not to cry. “Guard her. We’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Tavis, and turned to start making his way down the hill. Two more of Sylvester’s knights followed him—just in case, I suppose.

“Connor—?” I looked to the Luidaeg.

She shook her head. “The night-haunts will be coming. They don’t want to see you right now, and you don’t want to see what they do. I’ll come back for his skin when they’re done. Now come on.” She freed one hand from Peter long enough to stroke the bark of the tree that opened onto the shallowing. “You will be remembered,” she said.

Again, it felt like the night shivered, and when the moment passed, the door was gone. The Luidaeg smiled at the place where it had been, expression half-sad, half-wistful. Then she turned and started hiking farther into the trees. She didn’t look back.

I took a breath. “Well. Let’s get this over with.” I followed her, Raj and Quentin falling into step beside me. Sylvester and his knights brought up the rear, looking a little lost. I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t have it in me to explain.

The Luidaeg seemed to know her way through these woods. She led us unerringly over a small ridge and down through the trees to a stretch of beach that was geographically isolated from the rest of the shore, granting us effectively total privacy. Peter brightened as soon as the sound of the surf became audible above our footsteps, and started to bounce in the Luidaeg’s arms when the waves came into view.

“Get me to the water!” he said, flukes slapping against the Luidaeg’s side. “Please.”

“That’s the magic word,” said the Luidaeg, and walked on.

Dean’s reaction was subtler than his brother’s, but it was just as real—a new confidence in his steps, a light in his eyes. He even started smiling as he watched the waves batter themselves into froth against the sand.

“Don’t let them go too far, okay?” I called after the Luidaeg. I didn’t wait for her to answer me. I just walked to the water’s edge, the bottle with its simple message—“Come now, we found them, they’re okay”—in one hand. Quentin and Raj followed me, stopping where the waves turned the sand to dark satin in the night. I walked a few steps further, feeling the foam froth around my feet, and hurled the bottle out to sea as hard as I could.