One Salt Sea

THIRTY-THREE

WE EMERGED FROM THE SHALLOWING in a cloud of pixies that whirled around us like an honor guard of Christmas lights, their wings illuminating the night. The Luidaeg led the way, carrying Peter in her arms like the fishtailed boy weighed nothing at all. He nestled against her chest, flukes swaying, utterly at peace with the world. Even Dean looked calmer. The words “I’m the Luidaeg” clearly had some talismanic power in the Undersea that they lacked on the land.

The sky was dark and clear, lit by what seemed like uncountable pinprick stars. I stopped to look up at it, blinking hard as I tried to make myself stop crying. It wasn’t working. The tears hadn’t stopped since Tybalt took Gillian away. I wasn’t sure they ever would.

“October?”

The sound of Sylvester’s voice should have been surprising. I was too tired to be surprised anymore. I turned to see him coming up the path from the woods, with a dozen of his guards close behind. I didn’t hesitate. I just started sobbing and ran the few yards between us, flinging myself into the safety of his arms.

Sylvester gathered me close, making a soft shushing sound as he looked past me to the others. I couldn’t see them, but I could imagine their expressions, Quentin looking a little lost, the Luidaeg shaking her head in quiet negation.

“Ah,” Sylvester said. “I see. Etienne? Tavis?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Etienne. He walked past us, followed by the hulking shape of Sir Tavis, the only Bridge Troll in Sylvester’s service. Raj came close behind them, stopping at the outside edge of my range of vision.

“We came as fast as we could,” he said. “I had to get there, and then . . .”

“It’s all right, Raj.” I pulled away from Sylvester, taking a shaky breath, and wiped my eyes. I wanted to fall apart. I was going to fall apart. I just couldn’t do it yet. “You did good. You couldn’t have gotten here any faster.”

Whatever Raj was going to say died on his lips as he looked past me to the door into the shallowing. His eyes widened, pupils expanding. “What happened?”

“War,” I said, and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself not to cry. “This is why it’s bad, Raj. Remember this, for when you’re King someday. People get hurt.”

“I’ll remember,” whispered Raj.

“So will I,” said Quentin.

“Good.” I opened my eyes and turned to see Tavis standing next to the Luidaeg, Rayseline’s body hanging limply in his arms. Peter Lorden was staring at him with undisguised awe. I guess they don’t get many Bridge Trolls in the Undersea.

“Take her to the car, Tavis,” said Sylvester. His voice was tightly controlled. If I hadn’t known him so well, I might not have realized how hard he was fighting not to cry. “Guard her. We’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said Tavis, and turned to start making his way down the hill. Two more of Sylvester’s knights followed him—just in case, I suppose.

“Connor—?” I looked to the Luidaeg.

She shook her head. “The night-haunts will be coming. They don’t want to see you right now, and you don’t want to see what they do. I’ll come back for his skin when they’re done. Now come on.” She freed one hand from Peter long enough to stroke the bark of the tree that opened onto the shallowing. “You will be remembered,” she said.

Again, it felt like the night shivered, and when the moment passed, the door was gone. The Luidaeg smiled at the place where it had been, expression half-sad, half-wistful. Then she turned and started hiking farther into the trees. She didn’t look back.

I took a breath. “Well. Let’s get this over with.” I followed her, Raj and Quentin falling into step beside me. Sylvester and his knights brought up the rear, looking a little lost. I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t have it in me to explain.

The Luidaeg seemed to know her way through these woods. She led us unerringly over a small ridge and down through the trees to a stretch of beach that was geographically isolated from the rest of the shore, granting us effectively total privacy. Peter brightened as soon as the sound of the surf became audible above our footsteps, and started to bounce in the Luidaeg’s arms when the waves came into view.

“Get me to the water!” he said, flukes slapping against the Luidaeg’s side. “Please.”

“That’s the magic word,” said the Luidaeg, and walked on.

Dean’s reaction was subtler than his brother’s, but it was just as real—a new confidence in his steps, a light in his eyes. He even started smiling as he watched the waves batter themselves into froth against the sand.

“Don’t let them go too far, okay?” I called after the Luidaeg. I didn’t wait for her to answer me. I just walked to the water’s edge, the bottle with its simple message—“Come now, we found them, they’re okay”—in one hand. Quentin and Raj followed me, stopping where the waves turned the sand to dark satin in the night. I walked a few steps further, feeling the foam froth around my feet, and hurled the bottle out to sea as hard as I could.

It traced a glittering arc through the air before hitting the water and vanishing without a trace. I stared at the place where it had been like I expected a miracle to happen. There were no miracles. Not here; not tonight.

Raj and Quentin were watching me with wide, worried eyes when I turned back to them. Sylvester and his knights were a little farther back, clearly worried, and just as clearly giving me my space. That made me want to start crying again. Rayseline was gone. Not dead, but asleep for a long, long time. What right did I have to expect her father to be here, with me, and not with her?

“Are you okay?” asked Quentin.

“No. Not really.” I wiped my eyes surreptitiously as I turned to look down the beach toward the Luidaeg and the Lorden boys. Peter was standing on his own two legs now, hugging his older brother fiercely. “We found them.”

“I knew you would.” There was absolute conviction in his tone.

I glanced his way. “You never doubted me?”

“No.” Quentin shrugged. “I know better.”

“We all do,” added Raj.

I couldn’t quite manage a laugh, but I dredged up a small, sad smile. For the moment, that would have to be enough. I walked out of the water, offering my hands to the boys—to my squires, one official, and one not. Together, we walked back to Sylvester and his knights, and settled in to wait.

We didn’t have to wait for long. We were all sitting on the sand, watching Dean and Peter splash around at the edge of the water, when the surface of the water in the distance exploded upward in the strangely-familiar sight of a pod of Cetacea breaching. I recognized Anceline—and the green-tailed, black-haired woman who pushed away from her as they both fell back toward the water. I stood.

Almost everyone else did the same, until only the Luidaeg was seated. I looked at her curiously, and she shrugged. “I can’t intervene directly in the waters, remember? Go tell them it’s okay. Go tell them what comes next. I’ll stay here.”

“I understand,” I said, even though I didn’t. I raked my hands through my wind-tangled hair and went trudging down the beach, with the others close behind me.

We had barely reached the water’s edge when Dianda came running through the surf, a look of pure, electric joy transforming her features into something so beautiful it hurt. “Boys!”

“Mom!” shouted Peter and Dean, and threw themselves into her arms. They were still embracing when Patrick came walking more sedately out of the waves, water streaming from his hair, a corked bottle in one hand—Dean’s breathing potion. Magic was the only way a Daoine Sidhe could survive in the Undersea. That was what Dean had to look forward to: a life of depending on other people’s magic for his survival.

I watched Patrick join his family, the four of them holding onto each other like there was nothing else in the world, and felt the slow tendrils of an idea uncurling in my mind.

Quentin stopped next to me, tilting his head back so he could look in my direction. “I think we did okay,” he said.

“Say that again next week,” I said.

Dianda raised her head, cheeks gleaming wet with more than sea spray, and started wading toward us. Peter came with her, holding onto her arm like he was afraid one of them would wash away. “You found them,” she said, once she was close enough to be heard over the waves.

“I told you I would.”

“But you actually did.” She said the words like they were some sort of miracle. In a way, I guess they were.

“I did.”

Dianda paused, frowning. “Where’s Connor?”

This time, when the tears came, I didn’t fight them. I just let them fall, letting them say all the things I couldn’t bring myself to voice.

“Oh. Oh, I am sorry.” Dianda reached out, putting her hand on my shoulder. “The tides sing a threnody of sorrow for your loss.”

It was a ritual phrase, even if it was one I’d never heard before; it had the cadence and weight of something repeated many times. Somehow, it helped. I sniffled, nodding my thanks, and said, “So maybe this is a bad time to ask, but about that war . . .”

“I’ll send a message to your Queen at once. You have the eternal gratitude of my family, and of my Duchy. You will always be welcome there.”

“Cool. I can bring Quentin for a visit next time I feel like letting the Luidaeg use dangerous enchantments on me.”

Dianda hesitated before asking, “Was she here?”

I didn’t even have to look to know that the Luidaeg was gone. “Yeah. She helped us get into the shallowing where Dean and Peter were being held.”

“It would be nice to see her again,” said Dianda wistfully. “It’s been a long time.”

“About that. Why is she here? If she’s the sea witch, shouldn’t she be in the Undersea, and not drinking all the damn Diet Coke in San Francisco?”

Dianda looked startled. “She abandoned the Undersea centuries ago. I thought she would have . . . she’s welcome in the waters any time she wants to come home. She left us, not the other way around.”

“Why?” asked Quentin.

“The Roane,” said Dianda simply. “They were her descendants. Almost all of them died. And she left.”

I thought back on her behavior around Connor, and asked, “Did the Selkies have something to do with it?”

Dianda nodded. That was all she had to do.

I took a deep breath, preparing to change the subject. “Your Grace, I’d like to talk to you about Dean. I have some ideas, if you’d be willing to hear them. About how we can make relations a little better between the land Courts and the Undersea.” I looked toward Patrick and his sons. The boys were sitting on the sand now, Patrick hovering nearby, like he was afraid they’d all be washed away at any moment.

Dianda followed my gaze. “What do you have in mind?”

“It’s a little complicated, and we’re not actually done yet—Rayseline has been elf-shot. She’ll stand trial when she wakes up, but she wasn’t working alone, and the man I think she was working with is a trusted courtier in the Queen’s Court.” I raised a hand to cut off Dianda’s protest before it could begin. “I really don’t think the Queen was involved, but I need your help to prove it.”

“Help?” She tilted her head, assessing my expression. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, first, we call a man named Walther for a final bit of confirmation. And then we give Dugan a lot of rope, and see whether or not he hangs himself.” I smiled grimly, motioning for Sylvester to come closer. “Once Patrick’s done reassuring himself that your sons are okay, I can tell you what I’m thinking.”

Dianda nodded. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I truly can’t wait to hear.”

“Good,” I said. “I can’t wait either.”