Once Broken Faith (October Daye #10)(59)

Arden was staring at me. “That’s . . . that’s not how the fae judicial system works,” she said.

“Oh, please,” I replied. “We don’t have a judicial system. We have one law, which we break constantly, and everything else is arbitrary punishments handed down by whoever’s higher-ranked in the nobility than the person who did something wrong. If High King Aethlin says someone’s punishment is getting punched in the face over and over by an angry mermaid, that’s as valid as anything else he might want to hand down. Now. If you two are done shouting at each other, we need to move her. This room is completely indefensible.”

“I can have her taken to the room where my brother is sleeping, if that would be acceptable to Duke Lorden,” said Arden.

“It would be,” said Patrick. “Will you let me help you find the people who harmed my wife?”

“Maybe,” I said. “If I need you. First, though, I’m going to need that arrow.” I gestured toward the shaft that protruded from Dianda’s shoulder. It was fletched in undyed brown feathers that looked like they’d come from some sort of bird of prey. That might help me track down where the shooter had come from, assuming they’d gathered feathers from a native bird. Of course, with my luck, they’d be red-tailed hawk feathers, and I’d learn nothing.

The elf-shot itself, on the other hand . . . thanks to the timing of the lockdown, Walther was in here with us. And I knew he had his kit. We could figure out who’d brewed the tincture, and go from there.

“I thought we needed to leave the arrow where it was,” said Patrick.

“Only until we had help,” I said. “If there’s too much blood or anything like that, Arden can open a portal and get her straight to the doctor. You do have a doctor, right, Arden?”

“I haven’t needed one yet,” she said uncomfortably.

I resisted the urge to groan. “Okay,” I said. “Sylvester Torquill is here. He has an Ellyllon on his staff—Jin—who’s one of the best healers I’ve ever worked with. If we can get permission from the High King to open the conclave long enough to invite someone else in, either Sir Etienne can gate her over, or Arden can open a portal to Shadowed Hills and bring her through.”

“I’ll speak to the High King, and to Duke Torquill, as soon as we have Duchess Lorden appropriately settled,” said Arden.

“Good. Sylvester will want to be asked. He’d do it if I asked, but it would be a favor to me, not a service to the crown. I think the latter is more important right now.” I glanced at Dianda. She looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. It was really too bad she was going to wake up furious. “Nolan’s still in that awful tower room?”

“One way in, one way out,” said Arden. “There’s nowhere safer.”

“I’ll get Tybalt to bring me up to get the arrow,” I said. “For right now, I’m going to trust the two of you to take care of things.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Where are you going?”

“Remember I mentioned that there might be a way for me to find out what Dianda had seen without riding her blood? I need to go find out if it’s available to me.” Assuming Karen was still awake. Assuming she was willing.

Assuming a lot of things.

“We’ll be in the tower room,” said Arden. “As before, all the resources of my knowe are open to you.”

“Which is a good thing, because I think I’m going to need them.” I offered the pair—technically, the trio—a quick, shallow bow. “Open roads.”

“Kind tides,” said Patrick reflexively. Arden didn’t say anything, only nodded. I turned quickly, before the shouting could start again, and walked back out to the main room, where Quentin was waiting.

“Come on,” I said, waving for him to follow me. He was well-trained, and had been with me a long time: he followed without question or complaint.

Better yet, he waited until we were in the hallway before he asked, “Where are we going?”

“You have Karen’s phone number, right? You two text.”

“Not as much as I text with some other people, but sure,” he said, frowning at my non-answer. “What about it?”

“Text her and ask where in the knowe her room is. I need to ask her for a favor, and I’d rather do it face-to-face.”

Quentin gave me a sidelong look. “Are you going to ask her to take you into Dianda’s dreams so you can find out who shot her?”

“Either it’s a really obvious plan, or you’ve been with me for too long,” I said.

“Or both.” Quentin produced his phone from inside his shirt, swiping words across the screen as we walked toward the stairs. “It’s a good plan. Why didn’t you just, you know, do the blood thing?”

“Dianda will still have elf-shot in her system, and I’ve never tried riding the blood of someone who’s been poisoned so recently,” I said. “So apart from the concern I’d see things she didn’t want me to see, since I’d be going in without consent, we might have issues with secondary exposure. I’d rather not spend another week having seizures.” I was still mortal enough for elf-shot to be deadly. My body, however, didn’t like the idea of dying, and would fight anything that tried to kill me. When I was elf-shot and unconscious, that meant the balance of my blood started shifting without my conscious command, pushing me farther and farther away from human.