One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“As you like.” Tybalt let me pull him along. His footsteps made no noise on the broken, gravel-studded sidewalks, while I sounded like an entire invading army all by myself. “What, if anything, do you know about the Lordens?”


“Patrick seems nice. Dianda was a little cranky, but I’d be cranky, too, if someone stole my kids and tried to put an arrow through my husband.” I shrugged, kicking a chunk of glass out of the way. “Why? Do you have some great revelations to share?”

“Not great, but they might be of use.” His gaze went distant as he tried to put his next words in order. “The Duchess—Dianda—has reigned in Saltmist since before I moved to the Mists. She used to be seen in the Courts quite often, when Gilad was King. She’s a traditionalist, of a kind, but unlike some, she’s never preached separation of land and sea. That’s part of why she married Patrick.”

“Only part?”

Tybalt gave me a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “They fell in love,” he said. “It does happen.”

I was grateful for the fog surrounding us. I could at least pretend he couldn’t see me blushing. “Right. So what does that mean?”

“It means she didn’t take it well when people started shunning him, or when he started having ‘accidents.?? King Gilad was an attendant at their wedding—he didn’t just approve, he gave his blessing—but things changed when the new Queen took the throne. It wasn’t acceptable to be a land noble married to a sea Duchess anymore. That’s when Patrick renounced his titles.” Tybalt started walking faster. I tightened my hand on his elbow.

“Do you think you can find the Luidaeg’s on your own?” I asked.

He eyed me. “No,” he admitted.

“Then slow down.”

Grudgingly, Tybalt slowed his pace.

“That’s better. Now, back to the Lordens. You’re saying they had some resentment before some idiot decided to snatch their kids.”

“They’ve had a long time to feel hurt and persecuted, and the Duchess has never forgiven easily.” He cast a sidelong look at me. “That’s something her Court and mine have always had in common.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t have to; we’d reached the Luidaeg’s door. It was open, flooding the surrounding fog with warm lamplight, and the Luidaeg herself was sitting on the threshold, eating Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food out of the carton. She stuck the spoon into the ice cream and stood when she saw us, flicking one electric-taped pigtail carelessly back over her shoulder.

“I thought that was you,” she said. “And you brought a friend. It’s good to see you playing nicely with the other children, even if this isn’t the best time to develop a social life.”

Tybalt folded a hand over mine as he offered her a cordial bow. “Milady of the Moors. It has been too long.”

“No, it hasn’t,” the Luidaeg replied, mildly enough. The last time they’d seen each other, he’d been helping to steal me back from Blind Michael. Not exactly the sort of thing that inspires a lasting friendship. “Has the Court of Dreaming Cats declared alliance?”

“Yes,” he said. He didn’t let go of my hand.

The Luidaeg lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. “Is that so? Well, you’re here now. I guess you might as well come in.” She turned, heading into the hall. Tybalt and I exchanged a look before shrugging, almost in unison, and stepping inside.

The door slammed shut behind us.

The smell of brine and ashes was stronger inside the apartment, and golden lamplight seemed to radiate from the walls, probably anchoring the misdirection spell blanketing the neighborhood. The light made the mess in the hall seem less severe, blunting the edges into an abstraction, like the treasure in a dragon’s lair. The muck-colored carpet still crackled underfoot. I found that reassuring.