Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel (22 page)

Quentin’s had time to learn how to recognize my “I’m thinking, leave me alone” silences. He leaned forward, poking his head over the back of the seats, and asked Li
Qin, “So why’d you stay up here, if you just came to study?”

“The usual reason,” said Li Qin. “I met a girl. Fell in love. Decided to stick around while she did a variety of insane, occasionally impossible things. Got married. Adopted a Dryad. Did my best to live happily ever after.”

“Oh,” said Quentin. Then he asked the one question I wasn’t sure how to word: “Why weren’t you here?”

“Because Jan asked me to leave,” said Li Qin. “The situation was…complicated. My luck was tangled, and everything I could see, or get Yui to scry for, said it was tangled because it contained a potential death—my death. We agreed it was best for me to go and see some family in Montreal while I worked past the knot. By the time I heard what had happened, it was too late. I couldn’t even come to the funeral.”

Yui had been Tamed Lightning’s Kitsune alchemist. If she told Jan that Li Qin had to leave or die, Jan would have listened. I still winced. “I—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry for my loss.” A smile ghosted across her lips. “Twice was more than enough.”

“I lost my boyfriend recently,” I said quietly. “It’s not the same thing, but it’s in the same family. I can’t imagine losing a spouse.”

“Pray you never have to,” she recommended, and turned to look out the window, plainly signaling that she wanted a break from the conversation. It was something I was more than happy to give her.

Connor was a Selkie, and I was a relatively weak changeling when we met. We always knew we wouldn’t have forever, even if everything in the universe went our way—and that’s something that never happened, for either of us. I lost him too soon, but I always knew on some level that the loss was coming. Jan and Li Qin were both purebloods. They had every reason to think they had forever, or at least the next best thing. Losing her like that must have seemed impossible. Sadly for all of us, it wasn’t.

“Take the next exit and follow the signs to the Museum
of Science,” said Li Qin, breaking the silence that had fallen over the car. I nodded and followed her directions.

Downtown San Jose looked disturbingly like downtown in a hundred other American cities, a mixture of towering office buildings, obscenely large hotels, green patches of park, and museums meant to titillate and enthrall the tourists, causing them to spend more money before heading for home. The Museum of Science fit right in, tucked as it was between a chain restaurant and a park that promised dire fines for anyone seen walking a dog.

“Pull into the parking garage, and head for the lower level,” said Li Qin.

A machine at the mouth of the garage gave me a piece of paper with a timestamp on it and lots of small print telling me how much it would cost if I lost my ticket. I was starting to think San Jose existed solely to charge me for things I didn’t know were against the rules.

The parking garage was about half-full, but I drove past the open spots on the first two levels anyway, heading for the bottom. “Now what?”

“Now drive into that wall.” Li Qin pointed at a patch of blank concrete.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I sighed, and hit the gas. There was a faint electric tingle as we passed through the seemingly solid stone and into the Summerlands. I immediately stepped on the brake, looking around. “Um.”

“Weird,” said Quentin.

“Welcome to Dreamer’s Glass,” said Li Qin.

We had driven out of a parking garage and into…a parking garage. This one was constructed in what seemed to be a natural cavern; the walls I could see were ragged stone, and the ceiling was so high it disappeared into shadow. Globes of glowing witchlight floated about twenty feet up, casting their rays down on the jarringly mundane grid of white lines painted in the middle of the cavern floor, marking out the parking spaces. Most of them were full.

“You want to park in one of the spaces marked with a poppy,” said Li Qin. “Riordan is very touchy about people using their assigned spaces.”

“Poppy meaning…?”

“Visitor, not hostile, not yet allied, still has to pay for parking.”

I sighed. “Wow. I love hospitality.”

No one came to greet us as I parked the car. That made me more nervous. Everything I’d ever heard about Dreamer’s Glass told me we should have been surrounded by an army by now. Instead, we were alone.

“I don’t like this,” said Quentin.

“You’re not meant to,” said Li Qin. “Just drop your human disguise and get out. It’ll all be clear in a moment.”

“I hate it when people say things like that.” I let my illusions go as I opened the car door. From the sudden blend of scents in the air, I knew Li Qin and Quentin were doing the same.

I had barely finished standing when a man appeared in front of me, tall, thin, and translucent as clear water poured into a human-shaped mold. He was holding a sword as clear as the rest of him, its point only a few inches from my throat. I froze. I could see more of the spun-glass fae appearing out of the corner of my eye. They weren’t teleporting. They were just becoming visible.

“Guess we got that army after all,” I said, and breathed in sharply, hoping it would be taken as a sign of fear.

The sword at my throat didn’t waver. “What is your business?” demanded the man, in a voice only slightly more substantial than the rest of him.

“We’re here to request audience with Duchess Treasa Riordan,” I said. I knew the taste of his heritage, even if I couldn’t see him clearly: Folletti. Their race hailed from the Cloud Kingdoms, where it was easier for someone who was essentially a living piece of the wind to get by. They only came to land to sell their services to the highest
bidder. In this case, it must have been Riordan. Somehow, knowing that she had invisible guards didn’t make me feel any better about being there.

Li Qin walked around the car to stand beside me, unbothered by the translucent men with swords. “I am allowed, under the mourner’s flag, to visit these lands and claim hospitality.”

“Well, sure, honey, but that doesn’t mean you get to go bringing guests.” The new voice was female, more solid than the whispering tones of the Folletti. I turned to see a Daoine Sidhe woman in jeans and a black T-shirt with “The Careful Application of Terror is Also a Form of Communication” printed across the front. Her only jewelry was a ruby choker, red against the white of her throat. “Sergio, you can take your boys and go back on patrol. I’ve got these ones.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The Folletti in front of me slid his sword back into an unseen sheath, sketched a bow, and vanished. The other Folletti did the same. My hair was ruffled by a sudden wind, and the taste of their presence vanished from my mouth.

“Hello, Treasa,” said Li Qin. “You’re looking well.”

Duchess Treasa Riordan looked more than well. Like most Daoine Sidhe, she looked radiant, even dressed like she was getting ready to make a munchies run before a night of cramming for exams. Her shoulder-length hair was a shade of red so dark it verged on black and shattered the light into prismatic shards when she moved. Her features were exquisite, and her figure could have convinced a fashion magazine that jeans were the only appropriate attire for the season. Gorgeous isn’t uncommon in Faerie. Still, I sometimes think I see certain people so often that their beauty stops affecting me the way it should. I wasn’t having that problem with Riordan. Just looking at her made my heart hurt a little bit.

“And you’re looking like you’re taking advantage of mourner’s rights. I’m counting your hours, Li. One minute over, you’re on my land, your ass is mine.” Duchess Riordan said this as calmly and pleasantly as a normal
person might ask her guests if they wanted a cup of coffee.

“I am aware,” said Li Qin, taking it in stride.

“Just so we’re all on the same page here.” Duchess Riordan turned to me and Quentin. Her eyes were an impossible shade of frosted lilac, like flowers that had been left outside during a cold snap. “And you are?”

“October Daye of Shadowed Hills, Your Grace.” I bowed. Being a knight means I don’t have to curtsy unless I want to. Bowing was equally appropriate, and it would hopefully make me look like I was a little dense when it came to courtly behavior, rather than making me seem rude. Riordan was an unknown factor.

“Really? You’re Amandine’s daughter?” Riordan’s frosty purple eyes searched my face with new intensity before she passed judgment: “I thought you’d be taller.”

“I get that a lot,” I said, even though I didn’t. Quentin moved to my other side. I gestured to him with one hand. “This is my squire, Quentin.”

“Milady,” said Quentin. His bow was deeper than mine and scrupulously formal. He was a Ducal page before I acquired him. Certain habits die hard, and no matter how hard I try to shake them out of him, I have to admit that sometimes they come in handy.

“Hmm,” said Riordan. The look she gave him was as assessing as the one she’d given me, but it was the sort of assessment most people reserve for livestock and expensive appliances.

Quentin was growing up. He was handsome enough, if I stepped back and forced myself to think of him that way, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that he was a pureblood Daoine Sidhe, trained in the courtly arts, and approaching marriageable age. For a woman like Riordan, the fact that he came from a family low-ranked enough to allow him to be squired to a changeling—and one from an unknown bloodline, at that—was probably a bonus. What I knew about her told me that she wasn’t a woman who shared power well.

I wasn’t the only one who understood what that look meant. Quentin swallowed hard, looking uncomfortable, and shifted to put himself just a little bit farther behind me. Smart kid.

“Now, then. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you as soon as you pulled in, but I was just wrapping up a raid when the border alarms told me we had company.” A smile spread across Riordan’s face. I didn’t trust it one bit. “I’m glad to see Sergio and his boys didn’t damage any of you. Folletti can be so endearingly enthusiastic, don’t you think?”

“Raid?” I asked.

“You play
World of Warcraft
?” Quentin asked, almost at the same time.

“Sure do, sugar. On the internet, nobody knows that you’re an all-powerful faerie monarch, now, do they?” Riordan’s smile turned briefly more believable.

“All-powerful” was stretching things a bit, but hey. We were in her domain; if she wanted to be delusional, I wasn’t going to argue. “Your Grace, Li Qin is here because I wanted to request an audience with you. We’re trying to locate a missing changeling. I was hoping one of your people might have seen her.”

Riordan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you implying something, honey?”

“No, not at all. I just figured someone as connected and well-informed as you would be aware of anything strange that happened in your Duchy, and there are signs she went this way, at least for a little while.” I was laying it on a little thick. That probably wasn’t a bad idea.

“Hmm,” said Riordan, managing to sound interested and annoyed at the same time. It was a neat trick. “All right, then, if you were willing to endure her company,” she waved a hand at Li Qin, who held her silence, and her small, polite smile, “just to see me, I suppose I should let myself be seen. Li can show you where I keep the guests I don’t feel like dealing with. The Folletti will escort you to my receiving chamber in twenty minutes.” She turned to walk away.

“But you’re here now,” I protested, before I thought better of it.

Riordan looked back over her shoulder at me, and winked. “Gotta log off, honey. Otherwise, the guild will get annoyed with me, and you’re not worth that much. Ta-ta.” That appeared to finish things, at least for her; this time when she walked away, she didn’t look back.

“That was…” I said, and stopped, unsure how I could finish that sentence without bringing the Folletti down on my head. The fact that Riordan had left us standing in a big, empty room potentially full of invisible men who were hanging out just outside the range of my ability to find them wasn’t escaping me.

“I usually go with ‘bracing,’” said Li Qin. “Jan usually had a few other things to say, but she was smart enough to save them until we were home. Still, we have permission to be here now. Come on. I’ll show you to the foyer.”

Li Qin was short enough that keeping up with her was easy. Keeping myself from walking too fast and leaving her behind, now, that was hard. It didn’t help that Quentin was practically glued to my side, looking around as though he expected Riordan to leap out and propose shacking up at any moment.

“So,” I said, as we walked. “That was different. Given the way you’re dressed, I expected something a little more, you know. Traditional.” Probably including the traditional changing room just inside the knowe, where I could have cast an illusion over my own jeans, jacket, and T-shirt.

Li Qin laughed. “Riordan is
very
traditional, at least when it comes to making sure her guests know who’s in charge. If I dressed like this every day, she’d expect me to wear casual clothing when I came to see her. She wants people to be uncomfortable. That way, they never forget she’s in control.”

“Cute,” I said.

“Believe me, you’ve only scratched the surface.” We had reached the wall of the cavern, which looked like smooth, unbroken stone. After our arrival from the parking
garage, it wasn’t really a surprise when Li Qin just kept going, disappearing into the gray without a ripple. I looked at Quentin, shrugged, and followed her through the wall.

The cavern-slash-garage was huge the way mountains or oceans are huge—naturally, and without trying to make a point through sheer size. That was the only thing it had in common with the hallway on the other side of the wall.

The entry hall of Riordan’s knowe was decorated in what I could only describe as early Victorian bordello as reinterpreted by the creative team behind the
Lord of the Rings
movies. The globes of glowing light from the cavern were here, too, dancing a slow weaving pattern between chandeliers laden with candles that burned a steady green. At least they didn’t flicker. Hanging tapestries covered the walls, all depicting Riordan. Riordan sitting in a throne during formal Court, looking majestic and wise. Riordan on a white horse, leading a charge in some unidentified battle. Riordan in a meadow, gazing thoughtfully off into the distance.