Late Eclipses
Page 79
“One of the house-Hobs.” Sick realization was washing over me. Hobs don’t get fired from Shadowed Hills very often. They leave on their own even more rarely. House-Hobs are territorial enough that they don’t like to create unnecessary jobs even for their own children, which meant someone had to leave to make an opening for Nerium. Why didn’t Ormond mention that departure? It would have been a lot more recent. “Has anyone been fired recently? Or left? Or gone on vacation?”
Still confused, Connor said, “I have no idea.”
Nerium, who was at the Ball. Nerium, who knew me. I left my wine unguarded when I danced with Sylvester, and Nerium knew where I’d been standing. Sure, I didn’t drink the wine when I came back to it . . . but Oleander bragged about putting contact poison on the door handles of my car.
It was always possible that I was being paranoid. Something about this situation still didn’t add up. “So who the hell is Nerium?” I muttered.
“That’s not a person,” said Connor, sounding relieved to be sure of something. “That’s a plant.”
“What?”
“Nerium oleander. That’s the scientific name of the oleander.” I stared at him. He shrugged. “I heard Walther explaining his antitoxins to Tybalt. Six times. Dude was a little tense, what with all the poison and dying and you not waking up.”
“Connor?”
“What?”
I swallowed hard, letting go of his hands. “I know how Oleander got into the knowe.” His expression turned perplexed again. I raked my hair back from my face. “I think we’re in serious trouble.”
“Yes,” said a voice from the kitchen door. We turned, and found ourselves looking at Etienne. His sword was drawn, pointing at us. Eyes narrowed, he continued, “I think you are.”
Swell.
THIRTY-ONE
I TOOK A DEEP BREATH. “This isn’t what it looks like—”
“Really,” he said, in a voice like ice. “Because what it looks like is an escaped prisoner in my liege’s fiefdom, endangering us all even more than she already has.” He turned his narrow-eyed gaze toward Connor. “As for you . . . ”
“Don’t start on him, Etienne,” I said. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I was set up, and you know it.”
“No, October, I don’t.” Etienne’s attention swung toward me. “What I know is that you didn’t fight the guards or ask your liege for help. His Grace was petitioning King Sollys for your release when we heard you’d escaped. The Queen’s guard is ripping the Kingdom apart looking for you. How can you even think of coming here? And why are you attempting to disguise yourself as your mother?”
One thing stood out from what he’d said. “He was petitioning the High King?” I demanded, leaving the topic of my changed appearance alone, at least for the moment.
Sword still raised, Etienne nodded.
The Queen of the Mists is a regional power. Her Kingdom makes up all of Northern California, but her influence ends at her borders. Even a feudal government needs some sort of “highest authority,” unless you want to be at war all the time. In the Westlands—North and South America—that power is the Sollys family. King Aethlin and Queen Maida reign from the royal seat in Toronto, and with Oberon and the Queens gone, they’re as far up the political food chain as most people can go. If King Sollys was involved, there was a chance the Queen would be punished for my “trial.”
Not that I could count on being alive to see it. “I didn’t escape; I was rescued. I don’t think anyone involved knew that Sylvester had gone to the High King.”
Etienne glanced at Connor. Connor looked away. If there’d been any question of whether he was involved with my rescue that answered it. Eyes narrowed, Etienne looked back to me. “Why are you here?”
“Because I believe Oleander may still be here.”
“No one else has seen her.”
“She’s too clever for that. The poisons Walther found—”
“Convenient, that. You’re accused of poisoning people, and you suddenly have an alchemist of your very own to clear your name.”
“She’s working with Raysel. She has a way in.”
“Rayseline has been under close observation since the beginning of this tragedy. She’s done nothing but grieve.”
“And turn me in!”
“Yes, well. It seems that may have been warranted.” Etienne glared at me. I blinked back.
“You were willing to believe me before,” I said. “What changed?”
“You fled the Queen’s justice,” said Etienne. “Your oaths as a knight forbid such acts of cowardice, however much you may disagree with the decisions of your liege.”
“Oak and ash, Etienne,” I swore. “I’m sorry your sensibilities are offended by the fact that I’m not dead, but since I’m trying to keep our mutual fucking liege from ending up that way, you’d think you could give me the benefit of the doubt! You trained me! Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“I wouldn’t have helped get her out if I didn’t think it was the right thing to do,” said Connor.
“I’m quite sure it was your mind that ordered that action,” snapped Etienne. Connor turned red, and stopped talking.
The three of us were still standing there, glaring, when Ormond came back into the kitchen. A plump female Hob with curly brown hair and a wide smile trailed along behind him. She brightened when she saw me, spreading her arms in greeting.
“Toby, darlin’! Ormy said it was you, but I wanted to see for m’self. Master Connor, Sir Etienne.” She bobbed quick curtsies to each of them before turning back to me. “You’re a sight and a half for sore eyes.”
“Hi, Melly,” said Connor.
“Right,” muttered Etienne, and turned to stalk away. Ormond reached up and grabbed his arm, bringing the startled Tuatha to a halt.
“Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said, conversationally.
Etienne tried to pull away, scowling when he realized he couldn’t. Hobs are stronger than they look. “His Grace must be informed,” he said.
“His Grace, and none other, you hear?” said Ormond. “She and the young master are here on Duchy’s business, and that seems a thing as should be judged proper before people run and carry tales.”
Still confused, Connor said, “I have no idea.”
Nerium, who was at the Ball. Nerium, who knew me. I left my wine unguarded when I danced with Sylvester, and Nerium knew where I’d been standing. Sure, I didn’t drink the wine when I came back to it . . . but Oleander bragged about putting contact poison on the door handles of my car.
It was always possible that I was being paranoid. Something about this situation still didn’t add up. “So who the hell is Nerium?” I muttered.
“That’s not a person,” said Connor, sounding relieved to be sure of something. “That’s a plant.”
“What?”
“Nerium oleander. That’s the scientific name of the oleander.” I stared at him. He shrugged. “I heard Walther explaining his antitoxins to Tybalt. Six times. Dude was a little tense, what with all the poison and dying and you not waking up.”
“Connor?”
“What?”
I swallowed hard, letting go of his hands. “I know how Oleander got into the knowe.” His expression turned perplexed again. I raked my hair back from my face. “I think we’re in serious trouble.”
“Yes,” said a voice from the kitchen door. We turned, and found ourselves looking at Etienne. His sword was drawn, pointing at us. Eyes narrowed, he continued, “I think you are.”
Swell.
THIRTY-ONE
I TOOK A DEEP BREATH. “This isn’t what it looks like—”
“Really,” he said, in a voice like ice. “Because what it looks like is an escaped prisoner in my liege’s fiefdom, endangering us all even more than she already has.” He turned his narrow-eyed gaze toward Connor. “As for you . . . ”
“Don’t start on him, Etienne,” I said. “He didn’t do anything wrong. I was set up, and you know it.”
“No, October, I don’t.” Etienne’s attention swung toward me. “What I know is that you didn’t fight the guards or ask your liege for help. His Grace was petitioning King Sollys for your release when we heard you’d escaped. The Queen’s guard is ripping the Kingdom apart looking for you. How can you even think of coming here? And why are you attempting to disguise yourself as your mother?”
One thing stood out from what he’d said. “He was petitioning the High King?” I demanded, leaving the topic of my changed appearance alone, at least for the moment.
Sword still raised, Etienne nodded.
The Queen of the Mists is a regional power. Her Kingdom makes up all of Northern California, but her influence ends at her borders. Even a feudal government needs some sort of “highest authority,” unless you want to be at war all the time. In the Westlands—North and South America—that power is the Sollys family. King Aethlin and Queen Maida reign from the royal seat in Toronto, and with Oberon and the Queens gone, they’re as far up the political food chain as most people can go. If King Sollys was involved, there was a chance the Queen would be punished for my “trial.”
Not that I could count on being alive to see it. “I didn’t escape; I was rescued. I don’t think anyone involved knew that Sylvester had gone to the High King.”
Etienne glanced at Connor. Connor looked away. If there’d been any question of whether he was involved with my rescue that answered it. Eyes narrowed, Etienne looked back to me. “Why are you here?”
“Because I believe Oleander may still be here.”
“No one else has seen her.”
“She’s too clever for that. The poisons Walther found—”
“Convenient, that. You’re accused of poisoning people, and you suddenly have an alchemist of your very own to clear your name.”
“She’s working with Raysel. She has a way in.”
“Rayseline has been under close observation since the beginning of this tragedy. She’s done nothing but grieve.”
“And turn me in!”
“Yes, well. It seems that may have been warranted.” Etienne glared at me. I blinked back.
“You were willing to believe me before,” I said. “What changed?”
“You fled the Queen’s justice,” said Etienne. “Your oaths as a knight forbid such acts of cowardice, however much you may disagree with the decisions of your liege.”
“Oak and ash, Etienne,” I swore. “I’m sorry your sensibilities are offended by the fact that I’m not dead, but since I’m trying to keep our mutual fucking liege from ending up that way, you’d think you could give me the benefit of the doubt! You trained me! Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“I wouldn’t have helped get her out if I didn’t think it was the right thing to do,” said Connor.
“I’m quite sure it was your mind that ordered that action,” snapped Etienne. Connor turned red, and stopped talking.
The three of us were still standing there, glaring, when Ormond came back into the kitchen. A plump female Hob with curly brown hair and a wide smile trailed along behind him. She brightened when she saw me, spreading her arms in greeting.
“Toby, darlin’! Ormy said it was you, but I wanted to see for m’self. Master Connor, Sir Etienne.” She bobbed quick curtsies to each of them before turning back to me. “You’re a sight and a half for sore eyes.”
“Hi, Melly,” said Connor.
“Right,” muttered Etienne, and turned to stalk away. Ormond reached up and grabbed his arm, bringing the startled Tuatha to a halt.
“Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said, conversationally.
Etienne tried to pull away, scowling when he realized he couldn’t. Hobs are stronger than they look. “His Grace must be informed,” he said.
“His Grace, and none other, you hear?” said Ormond. “She and the young master are here on Duchy’s business, and that seems a thing as should be judged proper before people run and carry tales.”
