Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(51)

“I already got that far on my own,” I said. My own voice was flat. This wasn’t what I’d been hoping would happen. “I can’t look for a killer and attend every minute of this conclave. I need three things from you.”

“You may ask.”

“I need permission to leave this room whenever I need to. I may not even enter it unless the evidence leads me here. I can leave Quentin to observe, if you like; he’s my squire, he’ll tell me everything that happens.” And that would nicely deal with both the issue of making sure the future High King understood what had been decided, and with my discomfort at the idea of stalking a killer through a half-familiar knowe with my teenage squire.

“Um, what?” Quentin gave me a sidelong look. “Backup? You’re supposed to have it, or Tybalt looks at me like I’ve done something really wrong, and I hate that.”

“Don’t look at me,” said the Luidaeg. “Unless another one of my siblings shows up, I’m staying and witnessing this whole shit show.”

“Lowri,” I said. “Or Madden. Either of them has Arden’s trust, which means they can’t be questioned without questioning the queen. Or I can call May and have her come stand between me and whatever’s out there.” Having a completely indestructible roommate was occasionally useful.

“Can’t do that,” said the Luidaeg, almost lazily. “A Fetch shows up now, all these people lose their shit. Never invite a death omen to a murder party.”

May was not going to be happy to learn that she’d just been disinvited by the Luidaeg. I pressed on, saying, “I’ll figure something out. I’ll be careful. But I need your support in this.”

“That was the first thing,” said Aethlin. “You said there were three.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The second is that I need to be able to remove people from the conclave to talk to them, with your authority, so no one can say, ‘No, I don’t talk to changelings.’ There’s a good chance our killer is here for the conclave. Before anyone takes offense, I’m also going to need to talk to the staff, and see whether anyone moved here from Angels, since our other option is that somebody with a grudge saw an opportunity and took it.”

“You don’t think that’s what happened, though, do you?” asked Maida.

I shook my head. “No, because if Arden had anyone on staff who could do what King Robinson described, I think I’d know about it. I could be wrong, which is why I still want to talk to them, but . . . it feels wrong. If I could ask for blood—”

“No.” Aethlin’s voice was hard as he cut me off.

I blinked at him. “But blood can’t lie. We’d know.”

“And I would be the High King who’d betrayed all his subjects by requiring them to bleed for someone who did not hold their oaths. Blood can be used for more than just divination. It can be used to bind, to compel loyalty. I won’t order them to bleed for you.”

I knew all too well how blood could be used to compel loyalty. That was Evening’s entire modus operandi. I still stared at him, fumbling for another way. “What if . . . what if they bled for you? You’re Daoine Sidhe.”

“My blood magic is not as strong as it could be,” Aethlin admitted. “I would exhaust myself while learning nothing useful. No blood. Not until you have cause to demand it.”

Well, this was just swell. “Got it.”

“What was the third thing?” asked Maida.

“I sort of have a bad track record with kings and queens and accusing them of things and them getting pissed at me,” I said. “I need you to tell everyone here that they can’t leave until we find the killer, and make sure they know that I’m doing this because it’s my job, not because I think it’s fun to harass the monarchy.”

“But you do think it’s fun to harass the monarchy,” said Quentin.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “That’s not the point.”

“Sir Daye,” said High King Aethlin, pulling my attention back to him. “Can you find the person who did this?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I can sure as hell try.”

“Then you will have everything you’ve requested, and may the root and the branch grace us with the answers that we need,” he said.

I nodded but didn’t speak. I was going to have to solve another murder.

Goody.





ELEVEN


I SAT ON THE FLOOR of the quarters I was sharing with Quentin, my back to the door and my head in my hands. People were shouting in the hall outside. The process of telling the kings and queens that neither they nor their retinues would be allowed to leave the knowe until we found King Robinson’s killer was in full swing, and people were pissed. No one likes having their freedom restricted. As it turns out, fae monarchs like it even less than most. There would be privacy spells cast eventually, allowing everyone to have a little peace and quiet while they were in their rooms, but that was going to take time.

At least Raj had already gotten out of here. At least May was at the house, and could feed the cats.

At least.

“They sure can yell,” said Quentin.

“Don’t speak poorly of your peers,” I said.

He didn’t say anything. I lifted my head and he was grimacing at me. “Don’t call them my peers,” he said. “It’s weird.”