Late Eclipses
Page 27
Grianne gave me an uncomprehending look. One of the other guards said, “With the Duchess indisposed, we ordered the Ball be ended.”
I wheeled on him. “You let people leave?!”
“Er.” He glanced toward Etienne, looking for support. Etienne shook his head, saying nothing. “Why should they have stayed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because there’s a good chance one of them tried to kill your Duchess?” I turned away in disgust, focusing on Connor. He was watching me with pained amusement, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. I walked over and crouched in front of him. “Connor, what happened?”
He managed a weak smile. “I’m not sure. I went looking for the guards, and somebody hit me from behind. I think I hit my nose against the floor.”
“My Dancers found him in a changing room,” said Grianne.
“Oh, for the love of Maeve,” I muttered, casting a glance toward Garm. “Now do you believe I had nothing to do with this?”
“Helpers are not restricted to serving the virtuous,” he replied, standing at attention next to Etienne. “You’ve killed before.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t trust me because I killed Blind Michael?” He didn’t answer. I turned, scanning the assembled guards. “Does anybody else think I might be behind this because I killed a child-stealing monster? Please. Let’s get it all out in the open now, so I can be allowed to do my job.”
No one said anything. But half of them wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I shoved the cup into Connor’s arms, snapping, “Don’t let anyone touch that,” before I straightened and stalked over to the spot where Luna and I were standing before she fell. There were no visible clues. I could smell the sticky-sweet residue of Luna’s wine, but I had no way of knowing whether or not it had been poisoned.
The fact that I could smell the wine at all meant the smell of the roses below wasn’t as strong as it was earlier. I don’t know much about flowers beyond what can be used in simple charms, but I knew Shadowed Hills, and I knew Luna was tied to her roses. If she was sick, they’d be sick, too, out of sympathy.
One thing hadn’t changed; there was no trace of Oleander’s magic. “There’s nothing here,” I said, disgusted. “She didn’t leave a damn thing behind.”
“She who?” asked the knight who’d admitted to clearing the ballroom.
I started back toward Connor, replying, “Oleander de Merelands.”
The guards—except Etienne and Garm, who’d heard it before—erupted into protests. Watching their reactions, I saw a glimmer of logic in sending everyone home. While there was a good chance their actions allowed Oleander to escape, there was a better chance that they had accidentally prevented a riot. Blind Michael might have been a child’s terror, but Oleander was a terror for adults. The record of her crimes goes back centuries. Sure, it’s never been proved that she assassinated King Gilad’s parents, or King Gilad himself; in both cases, other explanations conveniently presented themselves. Too conveniently.
I ignored the arguing guards as I knelt in front of Connor, putting a hand on his knee before I could consider the ramifications of the action. Screw it. If Raysel wanted to start shit with me over touching her husband, she’d just be giving me a target. “Did you see who hit you?”
Connor put his hand over mine. “No. Before you ask, I didn’t hear anything, either.” He shook his head, and winced. “That was dumb. Don’t let me do that again.”
“Gotcha; no head-banging. What happened?”
“I went out to the receiving hall to look for someone I could grab without attracting too much attention. Everything after that is black.”
“Jin’s with Luna and Sylvester now, but you need to have her take a look at you. You could have a concussion.”
“Just what I always wanted,” said Connor dryly. Touching the back of his head, he winced again. “It hurts like hell. Do you really think you saw Oleander?”
My own head was still pounding, and I didn’t even have a concussion to blame it on. “I didn’t see her. I thought I sensed her magic, and with Luna in something close to a coma, I’m not ready to write the idea off.” I paused, twisting to face Etienne. “Oh, oak and ash. Etienne? Has anyone seen Rayseline? The last time Oleander was here—”
“Sweet Titania,” said Etienne, catching my meaning. Pointing to three of the guards, he snapped, “You! Locate Rayseline, now!” The guards stopped arguing, gave him a uniformly horrified look, and ran.
I turned back to Connor, whose face had frozen in the pained expression of a man who didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. “Hey,” I said, squeezing his knee before pulling my hand away. “It’ll be okay.”
“Liar,” he said softly, and let me go.
I straightened, realizing as I did that the way my dress was hacked off meant I’d been giving anyone behind me a free peepshow. “Where’s May? She can’t have gone home. She doesn’t have the car keys.” What she did have was access to my memories leading up to her “birth,” including Devin teaching me to hotwire damn near anything with wheels. It was better not to think about that too hard.
“She refused to go with the others. She’s in the western antechamber,” said Grianne, cocking her head. “She has sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches.” Grianne nodded. I resisted the urge to yell at her. “Oleander may be in the knowe, and you left May alone with a plate of sandwiches.” If our unknown assailant could get to Lily and Luna, who was to say she or he couldn’t get to a Fetch? Fetches are supposed to be invulnerable. I didn’t want to test it. “Etienne, can you take me to my Fetch?”
“Of course,” said Etienne.
Connor stood shakily, tucking the cup under one arm. “I’m coming with you.” He must have recognized my impending protest, because he added, “Come on, Daye. Do you really think you’ll feel better about my survival chances if you leave me?”
“Sometimes I hate how well you know me,” I muttered. More loudly, I asked, “Is anyone else planning to play tagalong?”
Quentin stepped forward.
I sighed. “I should’ve known. Grianne, can you make sure no one walks barefoot on this section of terrace until after the Hobs have a chance to scrub it down?” That was technically destruction of evidence, but any poison on the cobblestones would also be in the cup. I wouldn’t be losing anything, and the last thing I wanted was for somebody else to get hurt because of something as stupid as an unwashed terrace.
I wheeled on him. “You let people leave?!”
“Er.” He glanced toward Etienne, looking for support. Etienne shook his head, saying nothing. “Why should they have stayed?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because there’s a good chance one of them tried to kill your Duchess?” I turned away in disgust, focusing on Connor. He was watching me with pained amusement, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. I walked over and crouched in front of him. “Connor, what happened?”
He managed a weak smile. “I’m not sure. I went looking for the guards, and somebody hit me from behind. I think I hit my nose against the floor.”
“My Dancers found him in a changing room,” said Grianne.
“Oh, for the love of Maeve,” I muttered, casting a glance toward Garm. “Now do you believe I had nothing to do with this?”
“Helpers are not restricted to serving the virtuous,” he replied, standing at attention next to Etienne. “You’ve killed before.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t trust me because I killed Blind Michael?” He didn’t answer. I turned, scanning the assembled guards. “Does anybody else think I might be behind this because I killed a child-stealing monster? Please. Let’s get it all out in the open now, so I can be allowed to do my job.”
No one said anything. But half of them wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I shoved the cup into Connor’s arms, snapping, “Don’t let anyone touch that,” before I straightened and stalked over to the spot where Luna and I were standing before she fell. There were no visible clues. I could smell the sticky-sweet residue of Luna’s wine, but I had no way of knowing whether or not it had been poisoned.
The fact that I could smell the wine at all meant the smell of the roses below wasn’t as strong as it was earlier. I don’t know much about flowers beyond what can be used in simple charms, but I knew Shadowed Hills, and I knew Luna was tied to her roses. If she was sick, they’d be sick, too, out of sympathy.
One thing hadn’t changed; there was no trace of Oleander’s magic. “There’s nothing here,” I said, disgusted. “She didn’t leave a damn thing behind.”
“She who?” asked the knight who’d admitted to clearing the ballroom.
I started back toward Connor, replying, “Oleander de Merelands.”
The guards—except Etienne and Garm, who’d heard it before—erupted into protests. Watching their reactions, I saw a glimmer of logic in sending everyone home. While there was a good chance their actions allowed Oleander to escape, there was a better chance that they had accidentally prevented a riot. Blind Michael might have been a child’s terror, but Oleander was a terror for adults. The record of her crimes goes back centuries. Sure, it’s never been proved that she assassinated King Gilad’s parents, or King Gilad himself; in both cases, other explanations conveniently presented themselves. Too conveniently.
I ignored the arguing guards as I knelt in front of Connor, putting a hand on his knee before I could consider the ramifications of the action. Screw it. If Raysel wanted to start shit with me over touching her husband, she’d just be giving me a target. “Did you see who hit you?”
Connor put his hand over mine. “No. Before you ask, I didn’t hear anything, either.” He shook his head, and winced. “That was dumb. Don’t let me do that again.”
“Gotcha; no head-banging. What happened?”
“I went out to the receiving hall to look for someone I could grab without attracting too much attention. Everything after that is black.”
“Jin’s with Luna and Sylvester now, but you need to have her take a look at you. You could have a concussion.”
“Just what I always wanted,” said Connor dryly. Touching the back of his head, he winced again. “It hurts like hell. Do you really think you saw Oleander?”
My own head was still pounding, and I didn’t even have a concussion to blame it on. “I didn’t see her. I thought I sensed her magic, and with Luna in something close to a coma, I’m not ready to write the idea off.” I paused, twisting to face Etienne. “Oh, oak and ash. Etienne? Has anyone seen Rayseline? The last time Oleander was here—”
“Sweet Titania,” said Etienne, catching my meaning. Pointing to three of the guards, he snapped, “You! Locate Rayseline, now!” The guards stopped arguing, gave him a uniformly horrified look, and ran.
I turned back to Connor, whose face had frozen in the pained expression of a man who didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. “Hey,” I said, squeezing his knee before pulling my hand away. “It’ll be okay.”
“Liar,” he said softly, and let me go.
I straightened, realizing as I did that the way my dress was hacked off meant I’d been giving anyone behind me a free peepshow. “Where’s May? She can’t have gone home. She doesn’t have the car keys.” What she did have was access to my memories leading up to her “birth,” including Devin teaching me to hotwire damn near anything with wheels. It was better not to think about that too hard.
“She refused to go with the others. She’s in the western antechamber,” said Grianne, cocking her head. “She has sandwiches.”
“Sandwiches.” Grianne nodded. I resisted the urge to yell at her. “Oleander may be in the knowe, and you left May alone with a plate of sandwiches.” If our unknown assailant could get to Lily and Luna, who was to say she or he couldn’t get to a Fetch? Fetches are supposed to be invulnerable. I didn’t want to test it. “Etienne, can you take me to my Fetch?”
“Of course,” said Etienne.
Connor stood shakily, tucking the cup under one arm. “I’m coming with you.” He must have recognized my impending protest, because he added, “Come on, Daye. Do you really think you’ll feel better about my survival chances if you leave me?”
“Sometimes I hate how well you know me,” I muttered. More loudly, I asked, “Is anyone else planning to play tagalong?”
Quentin stepped forward.
I sighed. “I should’ve known. Grianne, can you make sure no one walks barefoot on this section of terrace until after the Hobs have a chance to scrub it down?” That was technically destruction of evidence, but any poison on the cobblestones would also be in the cup. I wouldn’t be losing anything, and the last thing I wanted was for somebody else to get hurt because of something as stupid as an unwashed terrace.
