One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

The main hall had been decorated for the occasion, elevating it from “grand” to “practically unreal.” Gray silk ribbons were wrapped around the filigreed ivory pillars studding the room, and layers of white covered the walls, making it impossible to pinpoint the entrances. The royal crest of the Kingdom of the Mists hung from each of the four balconies; no matter where you looked, you’d know whose territory you were in.

More ribbons hung from the heavy chandeliers overhead, eddying with the movement of the crowd below until they drifted dangerously close to the candles around them. The candlelight itself was bright and diffuse at the same time, turning everything faintly unreal. I shuddered, squeezing Connor’s hand. I hate candlelight.

And then there were the people.

There are dozens of fiefdoms in the Kingdom of the Mists. Most of them have at least one noble family, and for an event this size—an event meant to prevent a war— everyone had come out of the woodwork to prove their willingness to make an effort. Everyone. I didn’t recognize half the people. They were all dressed to the nines, mingling and chatting while they ignored the servants weaving among them with trays of drinks and canapés. Only the faint air of unease disturbed the illusion of glamorous society; this might be the last peaceful night in the Kingdom for quite some time.

My feet were suddenly numb, refusing to let me move. “I don’t think I can do this,” I said.

“Just smile.”

“I don’t think I can do that either.”

“Try.”

I took a deep breath and scanned the room, looking for something safe to concentrate on. I found it in a woman standing at the nearest banquet table, picking disinterestedly at a roast Wyvern. She had marigold-colored hair, and was the only person in the room wearing jeans. I pointed at her. “Is that who I think it is?”

Connor followed my finger. Then he nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh, thank Oberon. I was afraid we’d be the only sane ones here.” I began to wade determinedly through the crowd, hauling Connor with me.

The woman looked up as though she could sense our approach, the light glinting off the lenses of her glasses, as she turned our way, smiled, and disappeared. The people she’d been standing next to stopped and stared. Very few people are as casual about teleportation as April O’Leary, even in Faerie. April makes her own rules. Being the only cyber-Dryad Countess in existence means she gets to do that.

Connor and I stepped to the side, moving into the shelter of one of the room’s massive pillars. “At least now we know they’re not letting anybody off the hook,” I said. Moving April out of her County must have taken some pretty complicated hardware. It also left Tamed Lightning practically undefended, since she was both their Countess and their early warning system.

“We already knew that,” said Connor. “They invited you.”

The air in front of us shimmered before I could come up with a retort. When the shimmer cleared, April was simply standing there, green sparks dancing off the rims of her glasses. I was almost disappointed to see that she’d traded her jeans for a proper ball gown, all crushed green velvet and black satin ribbons. Being made entirely of light has its advantages.

“October. Connor.” She accompanied her greetings with small bobs of her head. “It is pleasant to see you again.”

“Same,” said Connor.

“Hey, April.” I waved. “I see they got to you, too.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I did not wish to attend, but Elliot said I must preserve the illusion that we pay attention to events on the Kingdom level.”

That sounded like something Elliot would say. “Is he here with you?”