One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“Yes,” I said firmly. “If you want to leave the city, get away from the coast, if you can. Goldengreen will be open to you when you return.” Assuming it was still standing, which was a possibility I didn’t feel like voicing out loud.

The Satyr nodded his appreciation and grabbed his companion’s hand, hauling him from the room. The sound of their hooves on the floor faded down the hall. I sighed. “Look, Marcia. I can’t stay—I need to get to Shadowed Hills—but I want you to tell anyone who asks what I just said. If they’re too scared to stay, they can go. They’ll be welcome when all this is over.”

Marcia nodded solemnly. “I will. I’ll even tell the pixies.”

“Good.” I paused. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” Her expression turned wary in an instant, the face of someone who’s had their hand slapped one time too many for daring to reach beyond their station. I know that face all too well. Every changeling I’ve ever known has worn it way too often. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You did something exactly right. Look, I’m going to be running around a lot until all this is taken care of. Someone needs to be able to make decisions when I’m not here. You’ve got the job, if you want it.”

“What?” She blinked at me, anxiety fading into confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m making you my seneschal, Marcia. I should have done it months ago. I’m sorry.”

“But—wait—really?”

“Yeah, really. It’ll be my next official decree.”

A smile broke through her amazement. “You should probably start making those, then.”

“Yeah, probably.” I turned to Tybalt. “Did you get all that?”

“Heard, and witnessed,” he said formally. Offering a deep bow to Marcia, he asked, “May I be the first to congratulate the new Seneschal of Goldengreen?”

Marcia, looking stunned, just giggled.

“Okay, good.” I looked between the two of them. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of, Tybalt and I need to get to Shadowed Hills. Can you manage things here?”

Marcia nodded mutely.

“Good. If you need anything, if you have any trouble at all, call the apartment. May is there, and she can get me a message. Otherwise—”

“My subjects can always find me,” said Tybalt.

“That, too,” I said. Stepping forward, I gave Marcia a quick hug. “You’re going to be fine. Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” she whispered, and hugged me back. “I’ll make you proud of me.”

“You already have. Open roads, Marcia.”

“Open roads,” she echoed.

I turned and walked back the way we’d come. Tybalt followed close behind me, leaving Marcia standing shell-shocked next to the fountain.

Pitching his voice low, he said, “That was a kindness.”

“No.” I smiled. “That was the right thing to do.”

He gave me a thoughtful look, and nodded, not saying anything else as we left the knowe and walked to the car. He didn’t wait to be asked this time, but shifted straight to cat form, leaping through my open door to settle, purring, on the passenger seat.

“Hope you like nineties rock,” I said, and turned the radio on, blasting Meatloaf. He was willing to do anything for love. Tybalt, meanwhile, was willing to take a nap while I drove. Cats never change.

The lack of traffic extended past San Francisco. The Bay Bridge was practically deserted, and we made good time all the way to Paso Nogal Park, in Pleasant Hill. That’s where the mortal side of Sylvester’s demesne is anchored.

The parking lot was empty when we arrived. No surprise there—humans find the park unsettling at night. It’s filled with strange shadows and noises they can’t explain. Standing on an active knowe can do that to people, and the rose goblins that throng around the place are fond of playing tricks on mortals. There’s not much I can do about that. If Luna won’t control the rose goblins, I certainly can’t.

I left Tybalt’s door open as I stepped away from the car, studying the park, and waited there until I heard the door close behind me. “Now what?” asked Tybalt.