Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(55)

“When the argument between Antonio and Dianda began, what did you do?”

“We continued to eat our meals.” He frowned at my expression. “Don’t look so judgmental, October, it doesn’t suit you. A monarch—a King—wanted to brawl with a woman whose rank equals my own, who currently stands as chosen representative of another King. It wasn’t my place to interfere, and if it wasn’t mine, it wasn’t Li Qin’s either.”

“Purebloods,” I said, resisting the urge to grab and shake him. “I’ll never understand purebloods. So you just sat there while they yelled at each other? What happened after that?”

“They settled their differences and resumed speaking more quietly. You may wish to speak to Duchess Lorden about what they discussed after the yelling ceased. We enjoyed dessert as a group, and were shown to our quarters to freshen up before the conclave resumed. I was accompanied to my quarters by Luna and Grianne. Elliot and Li Qin are down the hall from us. I’m not sure where the Baroness is housed.”

“Probably in one of the trees outside the knowe,” said Quentin. Sylvester jumped, looking at my squire like he’d forgotten we weren’t alone. I turned more slowly, giving Quentin a curious look. Quentin shrugged. “Hamadryads like to sleep in trees a lot more than they like to sleep in beds. Unless she brought a tree with her from Helen’s Hand, that’s where she’ll be.”

“She’ll still have a room for her things and her staff, assuming she brought any,” I said, and turned back to Sylvester. “I’ll be honest: I know you didn’t kill King Antonio. It’s not your style. But I do genuinely appreciate you being willing to answer my questions. I’ll come to you if I have more.”

“My offer of aid remains open,” he said. He paused before adding, “You look well, October. I miss you very much, and hope you will be able to come home soon.”

“I miss you, too,” I said. I didn’t comment on his assumption that Shadowed Hills was home for me, now or ever. Let him have that much. No matter how mad at him I was right now, I had loved him for most of my life, and he had always deserved it.

Sylvester opened the door to let himself out, revealing Patrick Lorden hurrying toward us, face pale and sweat standing out on his temples, like he couldn’t decide whether he should collapse or have a panic attack. Sylvester froze. So did Patrick. For a split-second, so did I.

Then I shoved my way past Sylvester, crossing the threshold into the hall, until I was close enough to see the hazy, unfocused look in Patrick’s eyes.

“Patrick?” I asked.

His gaze snapped to my face, becoming clear. Then he grabbed my arms. He’d never done that before. His grip was surprisingly strong, and I had a moment to be glad any bruises would fade before Tybalt had a chance to see them.

Then Patrick spoke. “Dianda,” he said. “It’s . . . you have to . . . please. You have to.”

“Have to what, Patrick? Is Dianda all right?” Please don’t let her be dead, I thought desperately. She was my friend. She was my ally. More importantly than either of those things, she was the representative of the local Undersea. If she was dead, war might become inevitable.

He shook his head, letting me go. “No,” he said. “Please.”

“Please?”

“Come with me.” He turned and started down the hall. He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he broke into a run. I ran after him, and from the sound of things, Quentin and Sylvester ran after me. I might have been angry at that, under other circumstances: I might have stopped and told Sylvester to go back to his quarters and let me do my job, to remember that he was the retired hero and I was the woman Patrick had come to find. I didn’t slow down. I needed all the help I could get, and neither my pride nor my preference was going to change that. So we ran.

The room Arden had set aside for Patrick and Dianda was a floor down from mine—something that would have seemed odd, considering I was on the ground floor, if it weren’t for the often alien nature of knowes. Knowes viewed geometry as a plaything, and were happy to rearrange it to suit their own needs, or the needs of their inhabitants. I’d have to ask Patrick how they’d dealt with Dianda’s wheelchair, after all this was cleared up and I knew she was all right. For now, I just ran, and the others ran with me, until the open door to the Lordens’ chambers came into view.

Dianda wasn’t visible, but as I got closer, I saw the pond in the center of the room, larger than the average hot tub and recessed into the floor, surrounded by a ring of red brick that seemed less decorative and more a matter of making the area around the water less slippery. Water weeds rooted to the sides, drifting lazily and almost concealing the woman curled on the bottom, her fins spread in jewel-toned array, her eyes closed. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t moving at all.

The arrow protruding from her left shoulder may have had something to do with that.

I skidded to a stop just before I hit the brick demarcation between room and pondside. The water was clear and cool and so much like the ponds in the Japanese Tea Gardens that my stomach did an unhappy flip before contracting into a tight ball of dread. No matter how far removed I was from my own time in the water, it was always going to be terrible for me.

“We need her out of the water,” I said, and my voice sounded distant and thin, like it was being ripped away by some unfelt wind. “Sylvester?”