One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“That’s sweet of you,” I said blandly.

“I know.” The Luidaeg stroked her dragon’s head one more time before pinching a scale between her thumb and forefinger and plucking it loose. The dragon hissed at her. “Hush, now, Ketea. You’re a good boy. I’ll bring you an eel tomorrow.”

The dragon seemed to approve of this. It stopped hissing and ducked back beneath the surface of the water.

The Luidaeg smiled indulgently as she turned back toward us. “He does love eels,” she said. Then her expression hardened, attention fixing on Tybalt. “Hand, kitty-cat.”

Tybalt narrowed his eyes as he extended his hand toward her, but didn’t pull away as she drove the pin in her hand into the meaty part of his thumb.

“Should we be getting worried about infection?” I asked, looking at my own hand to keep from seeing Tybalt bleed. The place where she’d stabbed me was already scabbing over. Bouncing back fast seems to be a Dóchas Sidhe trait. It’s hard to know for sure, since as far as I know, I’m the only one in existence. Amandine doesn’t count—she’s our Firstborn.

“Give me a little credit, will you?” I looked back as she pulled the pin from Tybalt’s hand. She dipped it in the water of the sea dragon’s tank three times in quick succession before holding it, and the scale, out to me. “Here you go.”

It’s always best to take what the Luidaeg offers you. I did so, holding pin and scale at arm’s length. “What do I do with them?” I asked.

“When the time comes, you swallow the scale and jam the pin into your leg.” The Luidaeg mimed stabbing herself in the thigh, smiling in an unsettling fashion. “You’ll have five hours after that. Just don’t fight it.”

I glanced uneasily at Tybalt, who was staring at her with such intensity that she would have been in danger if looks could actually kill. “What, exactly, will it do?”

“What you asked for.” She opened the bedroom door. A thin stream of red-black blood from her puncture wound ran down the side of her hand, making the entire room smell like a marsh. “Now get out of here. I have a Duchess to contact, and you have a war to prevent. Time isn’t stopping while we stand around here like a bunch of idiots.”

“I’m going,” I said. I slid the scale into my jacket pocket, sticking the pin through a fold of the lining. I wasn’t worried about losing it so much as I was worried about poking myself by mistake. “You’re not going to tell me what this is going to do, are you?”

“No,” said the Luidaeg, and left the room.

Tybalt slanted a glance in my direction. “Is she always this forthcoming?”

“Oh, no.” I smiled wryly. “Sometimes, she’s downright obscure.”

He actually laughed as we left the Luidaeg’s bedroom. It sounded so natural, so normal, that I found myself joining in. We kept laughing as the Luidaeg ushered us down the hall and out the door, back into the cool mist that blanketed the San Francisco night. War was coming, I was almost certainly going to wind up underwater before things were finished, but we could still laugh.

That was nice.





TEN


THE LAUGHTER FADED once the door was closed. Tybalt waited until we were out of the Luidaeg’s alley before saying, “The first time we met, she was very properly formal. This time . . . she was very unlike what I had expected.”

“She tends to have that effect on people.” I drew my jacket a little tighter, shivering. “I think she enjoys it.”

“She is only the second of the First that I have met—that I know of. There may be others, hiding among us, choosing obscurity over infamy.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” I gave him a sidelong look. “Who was the first?”

“Your mother.”