Late Eclipses

THIRTY-THREE

SYLVESTER OFFERED ME HIS HAND as he stood. I laced my fingers through his, letting him pull me to my feet. Then I pulled away, stepping back to lean against Connor. The fae don’t age: purebloods stop when they hit adulthood, holding onto the illusion of youth forever. Despite all that, at that moment, Sylvester looked very old.

“I didn’t know he’d run ahead,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, you did.” Sylvester smiled sadly. “He’s been waiting for that sort of cavalry charge ever since his sister died.”

“I guess so.” I glanced at Manuel. He looked more asleep than dead, if you ignored the knife sticking out of his chest. “The night-haunts … ”

“They’ll come.” He bent to pull the knife free, not flinching at the gush of black blood that came with it. “Follow me, both of you. We need to be away from here before the guards arrive.”

“The guards?” I asked numbly. Manuel was dead. Paradoxically, I wanted to wait for the night-haunts. I wanted to see Dare again; wanted to apologize for sending her brother to join her so soon.

“Yes. Rayseline knows you’re here. She must have called the guards by now, and told them you kidnapped Connor and attacked me—Connor, it’s good to see that you’re well. I was concerned.”

“Sir,” said Connor, sounding pained. I glanced back. He was still clutching his shoulder. “Sorry I didn’t call. I was busy.”

“I can see that,” said Sylvester. He touched the wall. A door swung open, revealing a narrow hall. “Raysel is doubtless going to say October killed Manuel and possibly kidnapped you, Connor. She’ll claim I don’t know my own mind.”

I stared at him. “Sylvester, she’s your daughter. How can you—”

“Simon was my brother. How can I not?”

I bit my lip before I could say anything more and followed Sylvester into the wall.

Sylvester closed the door once Connor was through. “They won’t find us here,” he said, dropping the poisoned knife. “Raysel thinks she knows my halls better than I do. Half the plans were drawn with me watching over the architect’s shoulders, and yet she thinks she can sneak around without my knowing. Can I have the other knife?”

“What—oh.” I offered the knife I’d taken from Manuel. He took it delicately, dropping it beside the first. Then he turned and pulled me into a tight hug, pressing my face to his chest.

“Stop dying on me,” he whispered fiercely.

“I don’t do it on purpose.” His betrayal still stung. I hugged him back anyway. Angry as I was, I’d loved him for too long to let that come between us. There’d be time to yell at him for lying to me later, when we weren’t all in danger.

“I know you don’t. It’s still becoming a habit.” He pushed me out to arm’s length, studying my face. “Are you hurt?”

“A little scorched, but okay. None of the poison got in my mouth. Connor is—”

“Connor is fine,” said Connor firmly. “Just go on.”

“Right.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Sylvester. I didn’t know—”

“I know.” He reached out to tuck my hair behind one pointed ear, and sighed. “You look so much like your mother. I’m sorry. Now come on.” He stepped back and started down the hall.

I followed him, shivering slightly; Connor followed me. When the silence got to be too much, I said, “I wasn’t sure Raysel was involved.”

“Of course she was.” Sylvester sighed. “I hoped you’d find it was someone outside the knowe, even someone outside my fiefdom altogether, because if it was someone on the inside, Raysel was involved. It’s that simple.”

“But how did you—”

“I didn’t; not until Connor vanished, and she took it as calmly as if a vase had been broken. If I’d known for sure—if I’d known anything for sure—I’d have stopped her.” There was ice in his voice. “Being my daughter wouldn’t have protected her.”

I glanced at Connor. He was looking steadily forward, face an expressionless mask. Hearing that your wife didn’t care when you vanished had to hurt, even if the marriage was strictly political. There was nothing I could say to make it better, and so I turned my attention to Sylvester. “We left the knives.”

“We can’t carry them with us.”

“Why not?”

Sylvester looked at me blandly. “Do you really want to wander the knowe with a poisoned knife when my daughter’s telling people you’re trying to kill me?”

Sometimes it’s impossible to argue with him. “No,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t make me happy about being unarmed.”

“Unarmed?” He laughed. “Toby, the day you’re unarmed, I’m giving you the Duchy.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Yeah, but it’s accurate,” said Connor. I wrinkled my nose at him, and he smiled. It was a small smile. It still made me feel better about how he was taking things, and how badly he might have been hurt in Oleander’s attack. If he was being snotty, he was going to be okay.

Sylvester stopped, opening a small door. I looked at him curiously. He motioned for Connor and me to go through. When Sylvester gives a direct order, it’s best to follow.

The room on the other side of the door was large but seemed small, since it was jammed past capacity with swords, spears, and other instruments for making people die. I stopped, staring. Connor did the same. Sylvester knocked him into me as he came through the door, nearly sending us both sprawling.

“We’re in the armory?” I said. “You just said I shouldn’t be armed!”

“No: I said you shouldn’t carry Oleander’s knives. I didn’t say anything about being unarmed.” Sylvester turned to select a sword from the wall. It was a delicate thing, with a hard, gleaming edge that promised sharpness. A trail of brambles and wild roses was etched near the hilt—the sort of ornamental touch Faerie has never been able to resist. The purebloods would carve pretty pictures in the sky if they could find a ladder long enough. “This should do. Not too heavy, but you have enough muscle in your shoulders that I don’t want to give you something too light, either.”

“I don’t know how to use a sword,” I protested.

Connor snorted, taking down a bow for himself. “If you can use it to break something, you’ll figure it out.” I shot him a look. He grinned.

“You did well enough with Blind Michael, and it’s time you learned,” Sylvester said implacably, pressing the hilt into my hand. “Hang on. I’ll find you a scabbard.”

I studied the sword, feeling the weight of it as Sylvester moved away. I’ve watched people fight with swords for most of my life, but I never got past the “swing it like a baseball bat and hope for the best” stage. Etienne gave me lessons. Three of them. Then he said I was a menace and refused to teach me anything more for fear that I’d slice his head off. Still, if Sylvester said it was my sword, it was my sword.

Sylvester returned, offering a scabbard and belt. “This should do until we can get something fitted to your hips,” he said.

“I’ll refrain from taking offense,” I said dryly, and held out my hand.

Etienne opened the armory door.

The four of us stared at each other. I had time to say, “Etienne, this isn’t—” before he rushed forward, knocking the sword out of my hand and driving me to the floor. For once, I landed on my ass rather than either my abused back or shoulders. That was the only positive side of the fall. The armory floor was hard as hell, especially when I was being slammed into it by two hundred pounds of testosterone-charged Tuatha de Dannan. As often as men slam me into things, you’d think I’d get laid more.

The impact knocked the air out of my lungs. Etienne yanked my head back, slamming it against the floor, and I winced, although not too hard. I was too busy trying to figure out when the knife wound up in his hand. Connor was trying to pull him off me, but wasn’t having much luck—Etienne outweighed him by a good thirty pounds, and a whole lot of angry.

“How dare you attack our liege?” Etienne snarled. Wisely, I refrained from trying to defend myself. It wasn’t like I had enough air to talk, anyway. “I trusted you! I believed you when you said you were trying to help! How dare you?”

Mildly, Sylvester said, “Please don’t kill her. She’d be difficult to replace.”

Etienne looked over his shoulder. That was the opening I needed. Balling my right hand into a fist, I punched him in the jaw. It’s not easy to swing a good punch when you’re flat on your back and fighting to breathe, but it was enough to throw him off-balance. Using both hands, I shoved him away and scrambled to my feet. Connor immediately grabbed his arms, pinning them behind his back.

Etienne glared. I glared back. “Your Grace, she was holding a sword on you!”

“No, she was simply holding a sword. It was nowhere near me. I should know, as I was the one who handed it to her. It would’ve been rude of her to drop it. Toby, please stop punching Etienne in the head. It’s not helping.”

“He started it,” I said.

“That’s nice. It’s finished now.” Sylvester bent to retrieve my sword from the floor. “Is either of you hurt?”

“She hit me!” said Etienne.

“You body-slammed me,” I countered.

“You were holding a sword on the Duke!”

“He gave it to me!”

“Do I need to send you to your rooms?” Sylvester stepped between us. “Etienne, Toby wasn’t attacking me. We’re here because I’d rather we weren’t wandering around without weapons when Oleander de Merelands is loose in the knowe. Toby, Etienne was trying to defend me. Please refrain from treating his head like a punching bag. Connor, you may release my knight now.”

“Gotcha,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” Connor said, and let go of Etienne.

Etienne was too busy staring at Sylvester to move. “Oleander?”

“Yes. October was right.” Sylvester sighed. “Rayseline is working with her.”

“Truly? But we watched her. She gave no sign.” Etienne looked almost painfully amazed. The Tuatha don’t deal well with the idea of treachery; that’s why the Daoine Sidhe rule most of Faerie, while the Tuatha support the throne. They’re not sneaky enough to stage a coup.

“Yeah, Raysel,” I said, rubbing my sore hip with one hand. “Next time you knock me over, make sure I land on something soft. Like your head.”

“Toby—” Sylvester said, in a cautioning tone.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“I believe it’s likely to get longer.”

“Raysel’s working with Oleander?” Etienne said, not moving past that point.

“It’s a big whirligig of fun,” I muttered, taking the scabbard Sylvester was offering and belting it around my waist.

“Yes,” said Connor. Etienne gaped at him, while Sylvester wordlessly handed me the sword. If there was going to be any explaining, it looked like I was going to do it.

Lucky me. “Oleander convinced Raysel and Manuel to help her poison the Duchess.” I slid the sword into the scabbard. “They salted the earth around the roses.”

“I knew that,” he said impatiently. “That’s why we’ve had that man from the Tea Gardens here all week.”

“His name is Walther,” I said. “Has her condition improved?”

“Yes,” Sylvester said. “But she’s reverted to her original form, and it seems … unlikely … that she’ll be able to change back, given the nature of her original transformation. A thing, once broken, is difficult to restore.”

“Damn.” Shaking my head, I said, “I think Oleander targeted Lily partially to frame me, and partially because she and Simon failed to kill me in the Tea Gardens.”

“If October and Connor hadn’t arrived when they did, I doubt we’d be having this conversation,” added Sylvester. At Etienne’s look, he explained, “I was about to be poisoned when Toby broke in. Her timing saved my life.”

“Didn’t do much for Manuel,” I said, looking away.

“Manuel?” said Etienne. “What about him?”

Sylvester answered before I could: “He was working with Oleander and Rayseline. They said they could get him revenge for his sister’s death. Unfortunately, he was a very angry young man, and he believed them.”

“He wasn’t working for them at the end,” I said.

Etienne paled. “Does that mean … ?”

“Manuel Lorimer died a Knight of the Shadowed Hills,” said Sylvester, tone leaving no room for argument. “My daughter may not have held the knife, but she’s as responsible for this as Oleander was. They’ll both pay for what’s been done.”

“We’re wasting time,” I said. “Etienne, we’re afraid Rayseline will try to convince the guards that I’m trying to kill the Duke.”

“She already has,” he said grimly. “Grianne has her Merry Dancers scouring the gardens, and Garm has gone to the mortal side of the park to check the entrances.”

It’s a sign of my respect for Sylvester that I didn’t deck Etienne again. “What?”

“She was persuasive, October. I tried to argue, but you’d already run from the Queen’s justice, and it seemed you’d slipped Ormond’s hospitality …” He had the good grace to look embarrassed. That was the only thing that prevented me from kicking him in the shins. “They sent me to the armory because we needed weapons to hunt you with.”

“Oh, for Maeve’s sake.” I put a hand over my face. “Sylvester—”

“Don’t get huffy at me,” said the Duke, taking several knives off the wall and tucking them into his doublet. “I warned you she was going to do that.”

“Yes, but … ” I stopped, sighing. “How bad is it?”

“There are two search parties combing the knowe for you, in addition to Garm’s group.” Etienne recovered his composure enough to take a knife off the wall for himself. “I’m supposed to lead the third.”

“Goody,” I said.

“This is still manageable,” said Sylvester. “Etienne, do you know the way to the Garden of Glass Roses?”

“Yes, if it hasn’t been moved recently.”

“It hasn’t.”

I nodded, getting the gist of where he was going. “Meet folks there and explain?”

“Exactly.” Sylvester slid another knife into his sleeve. I’d be surprised if he didn’t clatter when he walked. “We’ll simply explain, and they’ll side with me.”

Etienne and I exchanged a glance. “How can you be sure?” he asked.

“This is my Duchy, Etienne. I hold the fealty of everyone here, and unlike my daughter, I’m not presently insane.” Sylvester’s expression hardened. “I love Rayseline, but she hurt Luna on purpose, and that’s the one thing I can never forgive. Anything else, she might have been able to get away with—I’m sorry, Toby, but she might even have escaped the punishment for killing you—”

“Forgiven,” I said. Connor didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to. The fury in his expression was enough.

“I thought it might be,” Sylvester said, and smiled a sad, short-lived smile. “She could have gotten away with anything but what she did. This isn’t forgivable. One way or another, she’s going to pay.”

“You heard the man.” I looked to Etienne. “Get the others and meet us in the garden as soon as you can.”

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“We’re going to fix this.”

“But what are we going to do?”

I sighed. “Whatever it takes.” I just had to hope we’d all survive the experience.