Late Eclipses od-4

by Seanan McGuire

  “Hopefully, nothing this exciting.” The trees around us were citrines, with orange-veined leaves and papery bark. The ground was relatively smooth; citrine trees have deep, narrow roots. “Get in, find Sylvester, and tell him what’s going on. Find Oleander. Don’t die.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  We kept walking. The citrines were replaced by delicate ferns with pearl-white-and-rose fronds that stood taller than our heads. Connor took my hand without saying a word. I squeezed his fingers and kept going as the ferns thinned, replaced by trees with dark green leaves and delicate thorns covering their branches.

  “Almost there,” said Connor.

  “Yeah.” The thorny trees gave way to towering ornamental hedges as the Great Hall of Shadowed Hills came into view.

  The term “Shadowed Hills” describes a lot of things. It’s the Duchy. It’s the knowe. It’s the Great Hall that houses the Torquill family. In the mortal world, it’s just a hill. But in the Summerlands, Shadowed Hills is a manor house spread over three acres of land, saved from castlehood only by its lack of turrets and a moat. And Sylvester may eventually have those added.

  “Something’s wrong.” Connor tugged me to a halt. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s wrong.”

  I frowned, studying the outline of the Great Hall as I tried to find the missing piece of the picture. Then I saw it, and went cold. “Luna’s coat of arms is gone.” Sylvester’s arms were still there, as were the Duchy’s, but they were flying at half-mast.

  “Do you think she … ?”

  I didn’t even want to dream the words, much less hear them spoken out loud. “Come on,” I said, briskly, and started moving again.

  There are almost a dozen ways into Shadowed Hills from the Summerlands-side. Connor and I followed the line of hedges past the main door, heading for the nearest servants’ entrance. Stacy, Julie, and I used to sneak in that way when we were kids; Kerry’s mother worked there, and she’d feed us in exchange for taking Kerry off her hands. I just hoped the door was where I remembered it. Things at Shadowed Hills tend to move around, but that doesn’t usually include the servants’ quarters—Luna’s passion for interior decoration has never extended to pots, pans, and the kitchen help.

  Footsteps approached along a path to the left. I ducked behind the hedge, pulling Connor against me as four knights in the livery of Shadowed Hills walked by. I knew them. I’d fought with them, practiced with them, and gotten roaring drunk with them. They weren’t friends, but they were people I respected, and if they saw me, they’d turn me in. It was their duty. Not even Sylvester could protect me from the Queen unless he wanted to declare war on the rest of the Kingdom.

  My heel scuffed the gravel. The knights paused, and I flinched, aware of how exposed we were. If they followed the sound they’d find us, and that would be the end. There was nowhere left to run.

  Connor and I held our breath, clinging to each other as the seconds ticked by. Finally, the guards shook their heads and continued on their way. I waited for the footsteps to fade before I started breathing again, and I still counted to a hundred before I stood and bolted for the hall, Connor racing to keep up. We crossed the remaining distance in a matter of minutes, my heart hammering against my ribs as we ducked behind the narrow bit of stonework that concealed the kitchen door when I was a kid.

  Luck was on our side; the door was still there. “Come on,” I whispered. Connor nodded, and followed me inside.

  Nothing at Shadowed Hills is small. The main kitchen is a vast room filled with ovens, stoves, counters, and the sweet smell of baking bread. The ceiling is low so that pots, pans, and dried herbs can be hung from the rafters; that keeps the sheer size of the place from being daunting, but only barely. I held the door long enough to peek out and be sure no one was following before easing it shut and turning to face the room.

  Despite the sheer size of the kitchen, there was only one person in sight: a small, wizened man with a long white beard, contentedly washing dishes in the largest of the three sinks. Six Hobs—even halfbloods—can do the work of three dozen humans, and they get cranky when you shove too many of them into one place. I gestured for Connor to follow as I began creeping toward the door on the far wall.

  We were halfway across the room when the man said, “Afternoon, Miss Toby, Master Connor. Wouldn’t go out there, were I you. There’s a ruckus on.”

  I winced as I turned to face him. Connor moved to stand next to me, taking my hand again. It was a show of support, and I appreciated it more than words could possibly have said. “Yeah, we know about the ruckus, um … ”

  “Ormond, dear. You knew me when you were younger, but it’s been a bit, hasn’t it? Haven’t seen you in the kitchens since, oh, year before young Meriel got herself sacked for malingering. That’s a good three decades, I’d say.”

  “It’s probably been longer.” I raked my hair back with my free hand. “I know it’s rude of me to ask, but could you—”

  “We’ll keep quiet; we know the Duke doesn’t want you found. He’ll be glad you’ve gone to ground here, it’s what he hoped for.” He winked at Connor, grinning broadly. “I see you’re the cause of the young Master’s absence. Good for both of you.”

  “Er.” I exchanged a glance with Connor. He was blushing madly. Judging by the heat in my cheeks, I wasn’t much better.

  Ormond kept talking, ignoring our dismay. Hobs are like that. They’d play matchmaker in the middle of a nuclear strike if the opportunity presented itself. “Why don’t the two of you stop in the pantry? There’s apples and such.” He indicated a door near the spice racks. “You’ll both feel better for having eaten, and I’ll call Melly. She’ll gladly put you up in the servants’ quarters while I fetch His Grace.”

  This was all getting a little out of control. “Look, we really don’t want to get you in any trouble. We can find him on our own.”

  “There’s no trouble here.” Ormond’s expression turned grim. “We saw you all over these kitchens when you were just a pup, and maybe it’s been a bit since you came belowstairs, but we remember you. Amandine’s girl, and the Duke’s girl, and there’s never been a rotten bone in your body. Whatever that washed-out ‘Queen’ says, you didn’t hurt anyone. Especially not our Duchess.” He glowered, daring us to argue.

  I gaped at him. Connor took a half step forward, clearing his throat. “That’s very kind. Can you tell Melly we’d be honored if she found a place for us to rest while we figure out what to do next?”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Ormond hopped down from the stool he’d been using to reach the sink. Like most Hobs, he was small, barely reaching my waist. “Get yourselves some food before everyone thinks I’m abusing you, and I’ll let Melly know she’s to make a room for two fugitives. She’ll be delighted. She hasn’t had nearly enough in the way of blood and grass stains to wash out of the linens since the Duke gave up questing.”

  “Right,” I said faintly, as I watched him turn and walk away. Once he was out of earshot, I said, “Connor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did we just let Ormond walk away thinking we ran off to have an affair?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” I asked, turning to face him.

  Instead of answering aloud, Connor quirked a smile, put his hands on either side of my face, and kissed me.

  I was basically a kid the first time I kissed Connor. He was attached to Shadowed Hills as the diplomatic representative from Roan Rathad, and he was as baffled by the land fae as I was by purebloods in general. Kissing me was something he understood, and my changeling heritage didn’t bother him—Selkies are born mortal, after all, and they only become fae if they’re lucky enough to receive a skin. After Devin—after the men Devin hired me out to—Connor’s salt-sweet kisses and careful hands were a revelation.

  It didn’t last. We’d barely progressed past stolen kisses and casual groping when the folks back home put their collective foot down. Selkies only get involved with other Selki
es, or with pure humans. No changelings. No mixed-breeds. Not ever. I got involved with a human man. By the time that ended, Connor was caught in a marriage of political convenience that conveniently ignored the “rules” his family used to kill our brief-lived relationship. Not the sort of thing that inspires renewal of past passions.

  His lips still tasted like sweetened saltwater. I kissed him back without realizing I was going to do it, and once that was done, there was nothing to do but step closer, still kissing him. The webbing between his fingers was cool in comparison to his hands; the rest of his body was hot, pressing against me like he thought our clothes might conveniently disappear.

  No such luck. Connor reluctantly broke the kiss, stepping just far enough back to see my face as he said, “Maybe we did.” He left his hands against my face.

  “They’ll be thrilled,” I said, trying to sound dry and mostly succeeding in sounding dazed. The Shadowed Hills house-Hobs would be thrilled if Connor and I ran away together. I was a much saner match for him than Rayseline, and they all knew how much I meant to Sylvester. Most of the staff had been with the Torquill family for generations.

  I froze. Connor must have taken my expression for rejection, because he dropped his hands, a hurt look flashing over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought—”

  “Ormond mentioned Meriel’s dismissal like it was a big deal.” I grabbed Connor’s hands before he could step back. “Was it?”

  “What? I don’t know. I wasn’t here then.” Connor’s expression turned confused. “Who’s Meriel?”

  “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.”

  Etienne cast a glare in my direction. I looked at him pleadingly. We held that position for several seconds before he sighed, relenting. “The Duke, and no one else. Let him decide what’s to be done.”

  “Good ma
n,” said Ormond, and released him.

  “Come on, let’s get the pair of you out of sight,” said Melly, starting to bustle us out of the kitchen. Etienne held his position next to Ormond, watching us go without another word. Melly was more than willing to fill the silence. “We’ve a guest room, it’s not much, but it’ll do. Have you seen Kerry recently? How’s she doing with that new gentleman of hers?”

  “Not too well,” I said. Connor reached for my hand. I let him take it.

  “Oh, she never gets on well, does she?” Melly asked. Kerry gets a lot of her gregariousness from her mother. Melly’s just better at keeping it from becoming annoying. “Well, she’s young yet. I was four hundred before I met her father, dear man that he was, and him the only one meant for me. Just give her time.”

  “That’s what we all need,” I agreed. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Does the name ‘Nerium’ mean anything to you?”

  “Can’t say as it does, dear. Is that a friend of yours?”

  My fingers clenched on Connor’s, causing him to shoot me a wounded look. “Not quite,” I murmured, forcing myself to loosen my grasp.

  Connor and I walked the rest of the way in silence, letting Melly’s constant chatter wash over us like rain. The guest room she led us to was small and spotless, with a single round window looking out over one of the knowe’s many gardens. A narrow bed was against the wall across from the window, and there was a dresser next to the door.

  Melly crossed the room quickly, twitching the curtains shut. “No one should bother you here,” she said.

  I exchanged a glance with Connor before saying, “This is great.”

  “It’s good of you to say, dear,” said Melly, beaming. Looking from me to Connor, she added, “I’ll just let you two have some privacy while you wait,” and slipped out of the room before either of us could protest.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “So now I’m wanted for murder, I’m pretty sure Oleander’s in the knowe masquerading as a member of the staff, and the house-Hobs are convinced we’re sleeping together. This is good. I was worried I’d get bored.”