Late Eclipses

by Seanan McGuire

  “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 man,” 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.”

  Connor barked a laugh. “Things stay interesting when you’re around.”

  “Since I’m always around myself, I don’t find that at all reassuring.” I lowered my hand. “So what, we’re supposed to just wait here?”

  “Etienne’ll bring Sylvester, so yeah.” Connor walked over and dropped himself onto the bed, tucking his hands behind his head. He looked perfectly at ease, calling up memories of hot summer nights spent sitting on the beach, mapping one another with our hands. He shot me an encouraging look, kindling a low fire in my stomach. Maybe I wasn’t the only one remembering those nights. “At least nobody’s trying to kill us.”

  “If only Danny and the Barghests could say the same.” I started toward the bed, pausing as I heard a faint scraping sound from the wall behind me. Someone was moving a hidden panel. I stiffened, motioning for Connor to hush as I kept walking. It wasn’t Melly or Ormond—they’d have announced their presence—and it wasn’t Etienne. He trained me. He’s not dumb enough to sneak up on me.

  Great. A mystery attacker was just what the day needed, and unless I moved, Connor couldn’t see whoever was approaching. I make a better door than a window. If I did move, he might get some bright idea about “defending” me. I had to hold my ground.

  Still motioning an increasingly alarmed-looking Connor to silence, I pulled the pillow from beneath his head and clutched it to my chest, trying not to let my tension show. From behind, it would have looked like we were getting ready to get physical. I was—just not in the expected way.

  Soft footsteps to my left marked the position of our “guest” as he or she crept up behind me. Whoever it was didn’t sneak up on people very often, or they’d have known to remove their shoes before coming in. They also didn’t have a ranged weapon, or I’d have already been shot in the back. That gave me a chance, especially if they didn’t realize they’d been heard. The footsteps came closer.

  “Okay, darling,” I said sweetly, stooping forward like I was leaning in to deliver a kiss. Then I whirled, slamming the pillow at what I estimated to be chest height.

  I was wrong; the person behind me was shorter than I’d expected, and I caught him full in the face. That was a good thing, because I also caught the knife he’d been about to slide between my ribs. The shock of the impact caused him to drop his personal invisibility spell, and I glimpsed golden hair behind the flurry of motion and freed feathers. Manuel.

  The blade drove deep into the pillow. I heard Connor scrambling to his feet as I twisted hard to the side, yanking the knife away. Manuel gaped, giving me time to jerk the knife out of the pillow and into my own hand. His eyes widened and he lunged—a gesture I interrupted by hitting him again with the pillow. I dropped the pillow while he was dazed and slid my arm around his neck, holding the knife an inch from his throat. He froze.

  The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds. “Hi!” I chirped. “Nice of you to visit. Are you going to bring us a new pillow?”

  Manuel swallowed before whispering, “Be careful with that.” His voice was a child’s, frightened and alone.

  “Don’t you want a closer shave?” I brushed the flat of the blade against his skin. “They can’t execute m
e twice. Now tell me why I shouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Careful!” he squawked. “It’s poisoned.”

  “Is it?” I said, without surprise. “Gee, Connor, did you hear that? I love getting poisoned presents. You’re such a great friend, Manuel. What are you doing here?”

  “I was here to . . . to . . .”

  “To kill me?” He nodded wordlessly. “To kill us both?” Again the nod; I heard Connor gasp. “Why am I not surprised? Who sent you?”

  Manuel licked his lips. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”

  “I’ll consider it.” I brought the knife carefully closer. “Talk.”

  “It was Oleander. She gave me the knife.”

  “Oleander.” I sighed, letting go of him and stepping back toward Connor. “You idiot. I suppose she offered you wealth? Power?”

  Manuel jumped away, turning to glare at us when he was halfway across the room. “Revenge,” he spat. “The power was for Rayseline. I just wanted you to pay for what you did to my sister.”

  “You idiot,” I said, resisting the urge to check on Connor. He didn’t make a sound when Manuel spoke his wife’s name. He always knew she was crazy. Getting proof still had to hurt. “You let Raysel use you so you could hurt me for something I didn’t do.”

  “You didn’t save her!”

  “Neither did you.” I looked at him levelly. “Devin would never have let us go, not any of us. He was going to kill me and make you into a murderer. Do you think he would’ve let Dare live if she kept challenging him? I don’t. I think he would have made you pull the trigger when he ordered her death. He was using you, Manuel, the way he used everyone else. We’re both responsible for her death, but we didn’t kill her.”

  Manuel started to cry. “I . . . you . . . I . . .”

  “I know.” I put the knife on the dresser before sliding my arms around Manuel again—embracing, not restraining. He hugged me back, sobbing against my shoulder. I didn’t stop him. I had a feeling he hadn’t let himself cry for a long time.

  He let go and stepped away several minutes later, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Connor moved up behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I covered it with my own, asking, “Feel better?” Even I couldn’t have said which I was talking to.

  Manuel sniffled, nodding. “A little bit. I . . . ”

  “I know.” I laced my fingers with Connor’s. “Did Oleander salt the roses?”

  “What?” Manuel blinked, obviously thrown, before stammering, “No.”

  It was Connor who asked the next question in a voice gone dead and dull with resignation, like he already knew the answer: “So who did?”

  Manuel glanced between us, and said, “Rayseline.”

  “Crap,” I said, looking quickly toward Connor. He’d turned his face away, staring at the wall. “Connor—”

  “Don’t.” A pause. “Please.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Manuel, sounding baffled. “The salt’s not going to do any permanent damage. It was just to keep the Duchess out of the way while we . . . while they . . . took care of things.”

  “No, Manuel,” I said wearily, biting back the urge to slap his oblivious little face. “Salt kills plants. If the soil doesn’t get cleansed, Luna’s going to die.”

  “But Rayseline said—”

  “She lied to you.” Connor yanked his hand from mine, turning to face Manuel. I’d never seen him look that angry. “Don’t you get that? She’s trying to kill her mother.”

  Manuel looked as stricken as if I actually had slapped him. “Kill?”

  “That was probably the goal all along.” I glanced at Connor. He was glaring at Manuel like he thought looks alone could kill. “Oleander likes to cause as much damage as she can. Using Luna’s daughter as the murder weapon is the sort of thing she’d love.”

  “But . . . ” Manuel bit his lip. “Raysel was going to go sit with her mother while I took care of you. For an alibi, she said.”

  I stared at him. “Raysel’s alone with Luna? And you’re just telling us now?”

  “She’s not alone! She took one of the serving girls.”

  My head snapped up. “Which one?” Manuel must have seen something in my face that he liked even less than Connor’s glare; he took a step backward. “Which one?!” I demanded again.

  “The new one—Nerium. I—”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish. I grabbed his arm, leaning back to snatch the poisoned knife from the dresser. “Connor, come on!” I shouted, and dragged Manuel behind me as I took off through the panel he’d opened in the wall.

  The concealed door led into the maze of hidden hallways and servants’ corridors winding through the knowe. Like the kitchens, those corridors don’t move much—they need to stay consistent for the sake of the household staff. I ran as fast as I could, taking the turns half on instinct, praying I wasn’t already too late. Luck wasn’t on my side; I knew that. Neither was time.

  Manuel followed without fighting, letting me lead the way. He didn’t understand yet, but he would, and one way or another, he’d find that understanding over a corpse. It might be mine, and it might be Oleander’s; I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t Luna’s.

  There was nothing I could do but hope, and so I hoped. And I ran.

  THIRTY-TWO

  ONE ROOM BLENDED INTO THE NEXT, the rooms blurring around us until even I was forced to admit that I was lost. “Connor!” I looked back without slowing down. “Where are we?”

  “Not a clue,” he wheezed. He was clearly having trouble keeping up, although he was doing his best. Selkies aren’t built to be endurance runners.

  Manuel grabbed my elbow and dug his heels into the floor, jerking me to a halt. Connor slammed into us from behind, knocking Manuel and me both forward a step. “Look!” said Manuel, pointing to a heraldic rose carved at the top of the nearest wall. “We’re three halls over from the solarium.”

  “You can tell your way around the knowe by the roses?” I said, feeling suddenly stupid. The look on Connor’s face told me he was feeling something similar. The staff always appeared where they were needed, like magic. I should have remembered that sometimes magic is just a convenient excuse for not looking any deeper. It’s no replacement for common sense.

  “Well, yeah,” said Manuel, like it was self-evident. “It’s a heraldic rose, so we’re on the northern side of the hall, and it has five petals, so we’re in the eastern part of the north side. The rest is in the notches on the petals and the way the rose is tilted. I’m not as good as the Hobs, but I’m learning.”

  Connor leaned against the wall, struggling to get his breath back. I cast him a sympathetic look before asking, “So which way is it to Luna’s room?”

  “From here?” Manuel turned in a slow circle. I flexed my hands, resisting the urge to shake him until he answered. I’d already rushed off half-cocked once; I wasn’t going to do it again. He stopped and pointed down a side hall. “That way, right, left, and two more rights. We’ll come out in the library next to the Ducal quarters.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  We started off again, jogging until Connor was breathing better, and then breaking into a run. The knife I’d taken from Manuel was my only weapon, and if I used it, it would be to kill, not wound; Oleander’s poisons were too well-made for me to assume they’d leave people alive. If I struck out, even to defend myself, I really would be breaking Oberon’s law.

  I’d worry about that when the time came . . . and after I knew that Luna was safe.

  We ran for about ten minutes. Manuel took the lead, calling out the turns as we came to them. I wasn’t tired. I should’ve been, just like the hide-and-seek spell should’ve left me reeling from magic-burn. This wasn’t like the Luidaeg’s transformations; this wasn’t going to wear off. Tybalt seemed to think I could undo it myself—but that wouldn’t make me Daoine Sidhe. Whatever I was, it was something I was going to have to learn to live with. Of course, that was assuming I survived to live with anything at
all.

  “Here.” Manuel waved us to a stop.

  I reached for the door he indicated. “If this is a trick . . .”

  “I never wanted Luna to die.” He looked from me to Connor. Streaks of pixie-sweat were drying on his cheeks and forehead, making him look as young as Dare was when she died. “I just wanted to avenge my sister.”

  “I believe you. Don’t make me regret it.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Okay,” I said, and opened the door.

  Light flooded the hall, filling my vision with bright spots. I blinked them away and saw that we were exactly where Manuel said we’d be: the library next to the Ducal quarters. Connor followed me, and Manuel brought up the rear, tapping the door behind himself. It slid closed, becoming a simple decorative panel.

  Manuel offered the ghost of a smile when he caught my expression. “A lot of the servants’ entrances are hidden. It’s so we won’t disturb people.”

  “Right,” I said. Kerry showed me the servants’ halls when we were kids, but I forgot about them once I grew up. Oleander wouldn’t have been that careless, and if she knew about the secret doors, she could have come and gone with ease. Shadowed Hills mostly employs Hobs; the knights and pages aren’t technically “servants.” All she had to do was pay attention and she could avoid them all.

  Manuel kept smiling, almost desperately. He still wanted me to approve of him. Hell, after everything he’d been through, he probably didn’t care who approved of him, as long as someone did. Dare had been his only living relative, and Devin never taught his kids how to grow up. No wonder Oleander and Raysel were able to convince him to go along with their plan. They just had to give him their attention.

  “It’s cool,” I said. His smile brightened, losing its anxious quality. “Now come on. We have to get to the Duchess.” I took Connor’s hand, pulling him along at a fast trot as we followed Manuel out of the library and down the hall to the filigreed silver gate leading to the Ducal quarters.

  Manuel stopped, looking dismayed. “It’s closed. We can’t get in.”