One Salt Sea: An October Daye Novel

“Shut up,” he snarled.

I took another step forward. “Still, you’re not guilty of murder—not unless you mixed the elf-shot Rayseline was using. You had to know it was a murder weapon disguised as a normal tool, right? If you didn’t make it, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. All the other deaths since this conflict was declared have been in self-defense.”

The look of fury on Dugan’s face confirmed my suspicions. “You’re next, you half-blooded whore. You’re next, and I’m going to—”

We never found out what he was going to do. Etienne appeared beside him on the dais, yanking the arm holding the iron knife away from the Queen’s throat. The Queen ducked away, whirling to face her attacker, who was having issues of his own: Etienne had finally been given a target for his anger, and since Dugan was holding an iron knife, Etienne was no longer bound by the concept of the fair fight.

I winced. “See, Quentin, that’s why you should wear a cup before trying to assassinate someone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Quentin said.

Dugan was a conniving asshole and a bigot. What he wasn’t was a very good hand-to-hand fighter. It took Etienne only seconds to get the knife from his hand and pin him to the dais. The Queen knelt, hissing something in Dugan’s ear, and he went limp, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. I didn’t know what she’d said. I didn’t want to.

Sylvester and the others walked forward to form a group around me. Garm waved a hand, dispelling the illusion that had cloaked Quentin in the form of Dean Lorden, and Dianda in the form of Rayseline Torquill. I looked toward her.

“Are you content that justice will be done?” I asked.

She nodded. “I am.”

“Good.” I turned back to the dais. Several of the Queen’s guards were there—too little, too late—and were carrying a catatonic Dugan away. Raising my voice, I asked, “Is this a good time to talk about canceling the war?”

The Queen’s attention snapped to our motley lineup, eyes widening as she took in the changes among our group. Patrick moved to stand beside his wife, no longer disguised as one of Sylvester’s knights. “I suppose it should be, shouldn’t it?” she asked, tone somewhere between amusement and bitterness.

“Saltmist is willing to stand down,” said Dianda. “Our sons have been returned. The land has shown good faith, and we believe that you were not involved in their abduction.”

“How kind of you,” said the Queen. “What if the Mists will not stand down?”

“Then I guess we go to war,” I said. “Do you really want to be the one that makes that happen, Your Majesty? Over a problem that one of your own courtiers started?”

The Queen hesitated.

I took advantage of the pause, jumping in to say, “I have a proposal. A way for both land and sea to show their willingness to maintain the peace.”

“And what is that, Countess Daye?” asked the Queen wearily. She sat on her throne, eyeing me with deep suspicion. “Would you take my throne for them?”

“No. Mine.”

The Queen clearly hadn’t been expecting that. She sat upright, demanding, “What?”

This was it: the big plan. I took a deep breath. “I never asked to join the nobility. It’s not something I’m prepared for. But the sons of Saltmist . . . they have been prepared. They’ve been trained. Patrick Lorden was a noble of the land before he left for the Undersea. I propose Goldengreen be granted to Dean Lorden, to bring unity to the land and sea. How can we be divided, when our children can move between the realms?”

The Queen hesitated, glancing around the Court. Every eye was on her. The purebloods and nobility, who’d always hated having a changeling Countess in their Kingdom. The guards, who would be the first to die if she pressed for the war to go forward. I was willing to wager that what she found in those gathered eyes was a lot of support for my plan, and none at all for her damned war.