One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“I found the Lorden children,” I said, my eyes searching the crowd for Dugan. He was standing behind the Queen’s throne, just to the left of the dais. “They’re injured, but alive.”


“Did you find the perpetrator of this horrible injustice?” asked the Queen, tone implying that it had been no such thing. Her eyes went to the boy in my arms, watching him hungrily. She probably saw him as a bargaining chip against his parents. That, more than everything else, told me that I’d been right: the Queen wasn’t involved in their disappearance. She’d been just as much a patsy as everyone else.

“I did,” I said calmly. “Rayseline Torquill.”

“You can’t prove it!” shrieked an indignant voice behind me. I forced myself to keep looking straight ahead as everyone else turned. I knew what they’d see. A furious, rumpled Rayseline being held in place by her father’s hand, unable to break his grip enough to get away. We’d run the scene ten times on the beach to make sure we got it right, after my call to Walther confirmed that the sleeping tincture had been brewed by a Daoine Sidhe. “I didn’t do anything!”

Dugan stiffened, a look of pure panic flashing across his face.

That’s what I’d been waiting for. “If not you, then who?” I asked, still not looking behind me.

“Dugan! He said it would work! He said—”

“Dugan?” said the Queen, cutting “Raysel” off. “She’s delusional.”

“Is she?” I kept my eyes on Dugan, watching him, rather than the Queen. “He’s unlanded Daoine Sidhe, Your Highness. Everyone knows they get hungry sometimes. They get . . . anxious . . . to improve their positions. So I looked a little deeper. It turns out Rayseline isn’t the only one ready to point the finger. There’s a Glastig named Bucer O’Malley who’d be happy to testify.” I smiled thinly at Dugan. “The Undersea is going to be very interested in finding out who was behind the kidnapping. They’ll need someone to blame.”

“Perhaps—” began the Queen.

“He said everyone would forgive us because we’d make things so much better!” The sounds of a scuffle came from behind me, “Raysel” trying to break away from her captors. “Tell her, Dugan! Tell her what you promised me! You swore! You said—”

“Shut up!” snarled Dugan. He vaulted himself onto the dais, grabbing the Queen by the hair before she had a chance to react. The crowd gasped. He pulled a knife from inside his tunic, yanking her head back and pressing the blade against her throat. The metal gleamed dully. Even as far back as I was, I could feel the waves of sickness coming off of it.

“Okay, I didn’t consider the possibility of iron knives,” I muttered. “Get down. I need my hands.”

The boy in my arms opened his eyes. “Okay,” he said. The voice was Quentin’s, even if the face was Dean Lorden’s. The illusion held as he let me set him on his feet. When Garm disguises something, it damn well stays disguised.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Dugan,” I said, stepping forward. “Regicide is not a party game.”

“You did this,” he snarled. “Everything would have been perfect without your intervention.”

“Yeah, I know, me and my meddling kids. I’m sorry I don’t have a dog. Now think about what you’re doing, Dugan. You didn’t kill anyone. You’re going to be in trouble, but until you drew an iron knife on the Queen—”

“I will not be made a fool of!” Dugan yanked the Queen’s head back farther. “You little mongrel bitch, prancing about like you belong with the nobility, just because your mother is a legend. You’ve never had to work for anything! I worked for everything, and I still had to make nice with abominations like you. I still had to watch as you wormed your way into the company of your betters.”

“But you didn’t kill anyone,” I repeated. “Maybe you hurt my feelings a little just now, but Oberon’s Law doesn’t concern itself with that sort of thing. No, you let Rayseline do all the killing, didn’t you? A crazy woman who might as well have been a child. Faerie failed her, and then you used her. You’re a real asshole, aren’t you, Dugan?”