One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“How long do I have?”


“Three days,” said Sylvester. We all turned to look at him. He shrugged. “That’s the traditional length of time between the declaration of war and the start of hostilities. The Lordens have to send official notice to all the local fiefdoms, and that slows things down.”

Pureblood honor sometimes works for us as much as it works against us—rarely, but rarely is better than never. The delay in hostilities would give the local fiefdoms time to send their children and fosters to safety before things got violent. Oberon’s Law allows adults to kill one another on the field of war, but there’s nothing that justifies killing a child.

I looked back to the Queen. “I’m going to need the authority to question your Court, Highness.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning me again?”

“No, I’m asking to question the people under you. No matter how stainless your honor is, the people who work for you may be less admirable.”

The Queen hesitated before nodding, once. “Provided you ask no more than is necessary, you may speak to them, starting at dusk.”

“Dusk tomorrow? But that’s hours from—”

“I told you not to question me, Daye.” There was a dangerous edge to her voice. “My people need time to calm themselves and send notice that war is coming—and it is coming, unless you’ve somehow gained the power to perform miracles on demand. I’ll let you play your little detective game, but mark me: this will be settled on the battlefield.” She looked around our group. “How far Faerie has fallen that you, all of you, would stand here while this mongrel bitch challenged my authority. I rejoice that Oberon isn’t here to see this.”

“My grandfather would approve of Countess Daye’s actions,” said Luna softly.

The Queen stopped. None of us are quite used to thinking of Luna as the daughter of two Firstborn—and more, as someone who knew Oberon personally, as a loving grandparent, in the days before his disappearance. That gives her a certain scary credibility.

“Be that as it may,” said the Queen, finally, “he’s not here, and war stands before us.”

“That’s nice,” I said flatly. “Dusk?”

“Dusk.”

“May we be excused?” No one else asked before fleeing, but in this case, civility seemed like the better part of valor.

“Go.” The Queen pointed to the door.

I didn’t want to say anything that might set her off again, so I simply bowed before taking Connor’s hand and starting for the exit. Sylvester and Luna followed. They weren’t letting me turn my back on the Queen of the Mists alone, and I found that reassuring.

We had just passed through the curtain dividing the ballroom from the entrance hall when April appeared. “The guards of this establishment are exceedingly jumpy,” she said, scowling. “I got a crossbow bolt through my chest.”

April is only material when she wants to be. I still grimaced. “Glad you’re okay,” I said. “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing of interest. People fleeing. Poorly trained guards unable to believe an attack would occur within a royal knowe, thus proving that they possess an insufficient grasp of historical fact. Several pages copulating in the kitchen. I believe they were upset when I appeared next to them.”

“There was no sign of our attacker?”

“None. I apologize.”

“It’s okay. You did your best.” I looked to Sylvester. “Sylvester—”

“I know. Do you really think you can find the boys?”

Probably not. But a girl’s got to try. “I hope so. If I can’t . . . will we really go to war?”

“You’ve never seen a war, have you?” Luna glanced at her husband. “I always forget how young she is.”