Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(45)
The hall outside the dining room seemed almost obscenely bright after spending so much time in darkness. Arden’s staff had been through, lowering the lights and hanging wreaths of black roses and blood-orange poppies below the windows as a gesture of respect for the departed. The air smelled too sweet, like they were trying frantically to stave off any hints of death.
Quentin walked beside me, his shoulders squared, his chin lifted, and his eyes fixed on the door to the gallery like he was being led to his execution. I understood the feeling. Karen and the Luidaeg trailed behind us, and somehow it seemed less like we were being followed and more like we were their appointed heralds, leading the way and attracting any dangers onto ourselves. Which nicely summed up the relationship between the monarchs of Faerie and its heroes, all things considered.
Lowri and another guard stood to either side of the gallery door. She nodded when she saw us, acknowledging our presence, but she didn’t say anything. She just stepped aside, and the doors swung open, allowing us to enter.
We were at the back of the gallery—naturally—forcing us to walk down the long aisle past the gathered nobles and vassals who’d come to participate. The room went silent as we moved toward our seats. Walther was already there, looking about as uncomfortable as I felt.
No one spoke until Quentin, Karen, and the Luidaeg were settled. I was sinking into my own seat when High King Sollys said, “Sir Daye, if you would come before us.”
Well, crap. “Of course, Your Highness,” I said, and straightened, heading for the stage.
I couldn’t resist glancing at the audience as I climbed the stairs. Tybalt was back in his seat, and while his lips were pressed into a neutral expression, I could read the worry in his eyes. That made me feel better. At least I wasn’t the only one who was miserable and scared. Maybe that was cruel of me. Honestly, it didn’t change anything, and so I didn’t feel the need to care.
“If you would tell the conclave what you have learned, we would be most grateful,” said High King Sollys. His voice was level. If he was upset about the death of one of his vassals, he wasn’t letting it show. I couldn’t decide whether that was impressive or chilling.
And it wasn’t like it mattered. “Of course, Your Highness,” I said. Stopping at my mark, I turned to face the audience. “You have been informed that King Antonio Robertson of Angels has stopped his dancing. I remained behind, along with the Luidaeg, better known to many as the sea witch, to ride his blood and determine what had happened.”
“Why do we trust you?” demanded a voice from the back of the gallery. It was unfamiliar. I squinted in its direction.
“Well, for one thing, you can see my face,” I said. “Who are you?”
“Duke Michel of Starfall,” said the voice. Its owner stood, revealing himself as a slim, green-haired Daoine Sidhe whose tabard appeared to have been made by stitching together hundreds of tiny malachite disks. Pureblood women don’t have a monopoly on clothes made of ridiculous materials.
I swallowed several comments to exactly that effect. Instead, I said, as calmly as I could, “I was under the supervision of the Luidaeg at all times. If you wish to challenge my honor, I’ll be happy to meet with you and discuss whether or not I should be insulted. If you wish to challenge her honor, that’s between the two of you. But I don’t recommend it.”
Duke Michel opened his mouth to answer. Then he stopped, eyes going to a point off to the side, and paled. I had no doubt that the Luidaeg was doing something horrible with her teeth. She was fond of that sort of thing.
“I appreciate the clarification,” he said, and sat. The other nobles from Starfall closed around him, rustling and murmuring behind their hands.
I glanced to Arden. She nodded marginally. I turned back to the gallery.
“I rode King Robinson’s blood, not because I’m a changeling, but because I’m a knight errant and hero of the realm; it’s my duty to investigate such matters. I was unable to identify his killer. He never saw them clearly.” There were other issues—the shadows jumping, that torn metal sound—but I didn’t want to reveal them like this. I would chase them down. I would find my answers. I would do it without a dozen nobles tripping over themselves trying to beat me to the prize, to prove they were better than the changeling who thought she could act like a real girl. “Because his body was still present, we decided to wait for the night-haunts to arrive.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, disbelieving, even angry. No one saw the night-haunts. No one questioned them. That’s what I’d thought, once upon a time, before I realized that sometimes doing what no one does is the right way to get what I needed. My whole career has been based around doing what no one does.
The Luidaeg stood, the hem of her gown splashing against the floor as she turned to glare at the room. The gallery went quiet again.
“Once the night-haunts arrived, I questioned them about King Robinson’s death,” I said. “They couldn’t give me any useful information, although I was able to determine, between the blood and the night-haunts, that King Robinson has an heir who’ll need to be informed of his father’s death, and protected until he can assume the throne.”
“When this conclave is over, I will travel with you to Angels to confirm this,” said High King Sollys.
“Great,” I said, feeling briefly light-headed with relief. “I’ll take the kids to Disneyland. Well. Then. Right now, I’m going to return to the dining hall, and—”