Late Eclipses (32 page)

“I haven’t noticed much,” he admitted, glancing at the goblins clustered around his feet. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“I have,” said Connor. “They got sick the same time Luna did. Some of the smaller ones have died. I thought it was because she was sick.”

“So did I, but we were coming at things from the wrong direction. If we cure the roses, we cure her. Walther cured the goblins by turning the salt in their blood into gypsum. He may be able to help with the soil, once he’s had a little more time.”

“I see,” said Sylvester. His smile was less vibrant than May’s, but just as alive, and twice as relieved. I felt a pang of guilt over taking time to panic before getting down to business; they needed me to be sane, and I hadn’t been doing it.

Then again, I just came back from the dead, and learned that the one person I’d trusted more than anyone had been lying to me for my entire life. Maybe I needed to cut myself a little slack. “We can save her,” I said.

“I hope so,” said Sylvester. “And—”

I never learned what he was going to say next. The gate connecting the Ducal chambers to the rest of the knowe banged open, and Dugan strode into the garden at the head of a troop of guards in the Queen’s colors. Raysel and Manuel were right behind. Raysel looked gleeful; Manuel looked smug. Neither expression was very comforting.

May whirled to face her, eyes wide and angry. Sylvester’s turn was slower, and more dangerous; there was a cold fury in the way he was holding himself, and I knew that his fuse wouldn’t burn for long.

Dugan focused on May, ignoring me completely. “October Daye, you have been charged—”

Oh, oak and ash. I looked like a stranger to anyone who wasn’t there when Amandine shifted the balance of my blood, while May looked like, well, me. I moved to put myself between her and the guards, ignoring Connor’s attempt to grab my wrist and stop me. “I think you’ve got the wrong girl,” I said, projecting as much false bravado as I could manage. “Unless you came here to harass my Fetch?”

Dugan hesitated. “October Daye?”

“The same.”

He hesitated a moment more. Then, slowly, he smiled. “October Daye, you have been charged with the murder of the Undine known as Lily, and the attempted murder of Luna Torquill, Duchess of Shadowed Hills. You are under arrest by direct order of the Queen of the Mists. I suggest you come quietly.”

“This is madness!” snapped Sylvester. “Sir Daye has been injured. I won’t allow—”

“Don’t.” I put my hand on his arm. “It won’t do any good. You know what to do. Call Walther—May knows where he is—and he’ll help you.”

“Are you
quite
done?” Raysel asked. “You’re being arrested, not taking a tour.”

I looked at her coldly. “Raysel, you told me yourself that your father wasn’t my liege anymore. I don’t have to obey his wishes, spoken or unspoken, and so I can finally say this: go drown yourself, you self-righteous little bitch.”

She stared at me, cheeks reddening, before turning on her heels and storming out of the room. Manuel gave me a venomous look and followed.

I turned back to Dugan. “Well? Weren’t you going to arrest me now?”

He motioned two of the guards forward. One grabbed my hands and yanked them behind me. The other snapped iron manacles around my wrists, making my skin crawl. “This isn’t necessary,” I said. “I’m not fighting you.”

“For once in your life, be silent,” said Dugan, with no real rancor in his tone.

I looked at him blandly, trying to pretend the iron wasn’t already starting to burn. The second guard removed my knives from around my waist. “What’s your full name?”

“Dugan Harrow of Deep Mists,” he said. The answer was automatic; like it or not, changeling or not, I outranked him. Eyes narrowing, he asked, “Why?”

“Because, Dugan Harrow of Deep Mists, I’m going to remember you. I’m going to remember this. And you’re going to be sorry.” One of the guards shoved me between the shoulders, catching me squarely on one of the punctures left by the elf-shot. I staggered, biting my lip to keep from crying out, and let them push me toward the gate.

I only glanced back once as they forced me out of the room. Connor was rigid with anger as he stared after us, hands balled into useless fists. May was sobbing, slumped against Sylvester, who watching us go with a bleak, calculating anger in his eyes. If Luna lived and I didn’t, the Queen might find herself facing insurrection from a quarter she never bargained for.

The gate closed behind us, and the guards led me away.

 

 

 

H
AVING MY HANDS MANACLED BEHIND ME added a new, nerve-racking dimension to the trip along the beach leading to the Queen’s knowe. The guards yanked me upright every time I started to fall, pulling so hard they wrenched my arms and rattled my teeth. For some reason, I wasn’t particularly grateful. The iron in the manacles disrupted and dissolved my magic, leaving me dizzy and making it impossible for me to spin an illusion. I threw up twice before we even reached the beach. Amandine saved my life, but she also made me more vulnerable to the touch of iron. Nice trade, Mom.

The don’t-look-here Dugan had thrown over our group was itchy and foreign-feeling, but it hid us from the mortal world, and that was what mattered. There’d be no tourist providing a last-minute save for me. Not this time.

We somehow made it over the rocks without anyone toppling into the Pacific. I tried to stop long enough to catch my breath, and one of the guards shoved me forward. The third stone in as many minutes turned under my foot, nearly sending me tumbling. “Be a little more careful, asshole,” I snapped. I was already soaked to the knees. I didn’t want to get any wetter.

Dugan laughed, pushing me into the cave ahead of us. The iron had me too dizzy to catch myself. I dropped to my knees before pitching face-first into the icy water.

“I’m not that worried about you remembering me,” he said. More loudly, he added, “Get her up. We’re late as it is.”

Hands grabbed my shoulders, hauling me to my feet. The effects of the iron were getting worse. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could go on, but I wasn’t going to give Dugan the satisfaction of knowing that. I shivered, asking, “Could you calm down? The Queen’s going to be pissed if you kill me.”

“Why should she care,
murderess?
You’ve broken Oberon’s law one time too many. You’re finally going to burn for it.” He shoved me again. This time I didn’t even hit my knees before falling straight into the water. I rolled to my side, barely managing to lift my face from the water before I drowned. The guards pulled me up. I hung limply in their hands, choking and gasping as they half-shoved, half-supported me the rest of the way down the tunnel.

Dugan was right. I broke Oberon’s law when I killed Blind Michael, and the Queen could sentence me for that even if I’d done nothing else wrong. The Queen cleared her debt to me by giving me Goldengreen, technically claiming my fealty at the same time. That meant she could take me from Sylvester’s lands without his consent. I’m not a conspiracy theorist—there’s usually a nice, normal, supernatural explanation for whatever’s going on—but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been set up. The only question was just how high up the conspiracy actually went.

Dugan gave me a final shove as the guards released me, pushing me through the cave wall and into the Queen’s knowe. I staggered to a stop, barely managing to stay upright as my waterlogged shoes slipped on the marble floor of the audience chamber. Shaking my hair out of my eyes, I gaped at the crowd. It looked like everyone in the Kingdom who wasn’t at Shadowed Hills when I was arrested had come to see this farce of a trial.

Mitch and Stacy stood at the edge of the crowd, hands clasped tightly together. I was relieved to see that they’d left the kids at home. Tybalt wasn’t far from them. He looked absolutely livid. His eyes narrowed as we entered the room, gaze swinging around to focus on the center of Dugan’s don’t-look-here. He might not see us perfectly, but he knew where we were.

Dugan planted his hands on my shoulders, shoving me forward and ripping away the don’t-look-here at the same time. A gasp ran through the crowd. I could understand the reasons: I was wet, muddy, and bloodstained. Not the sort of thing one normally sees at Court, even at a murder trial.

Stacy clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Even Tybalt was staring at me—Tybalt, who’s seen me in much worse shape. I met his eyes, bewildered. He mouthed a single word: “When?”

I winced, two hot tears escaping as realization hit me. Everyone who knew me knew that I was a half-blood. The changes Amandine made to save me were too strange to be natural, and unnatural enough to be scary. They sure as hell scared
me
, and I’d had the time to start getting used to them.

The guards nudged me into the open space in front of the Queen’s empty throne. Dugan pointed to the floor. “Kneel.”

I looked at him. I looked at the room. I made my choice. “No.”

“Kneel. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.” He was starting to look uneasy. I guess he expected a less mixed crowd when he brought me to “justice.”

Looking at his handsome, weasely face, all I felt was tired. “I won’t kneel for you.” My tone was light, even reasonable, if you ignored who I was talking to.

“In that case, you can kneel for me,” said the Queen.

I looked up.

She was seated on her throne, regal and calm, like she’d been there for hours. She smiled as our eyes met, expression filled with hot satisfaction. Her appearance had changed again, moving from “punk” to “perfection.” Her black-and-white hair was styled in an elegant bob and crowned with a circlet of braided platinum; her fishnets and miniskirt were gone, replaced by a gown made of silver mist. She looked like the pinnacle of glamour, while I looked like something just shy of a natural disaster. I doubted that was an accident, either.

“Your Highness.” I inclined my head. “Good to see you again.”

“Is that so?” She pursed her lips. “My man told you to kneel, Countess Daye. Now
kneel
.”

The power of the Queen’s Banshee blood made the command impossible to resist. I hit the marble on my knees before I could even try to resist. The compulsion kept pushing until I bowed my head, supplicating myself before her.

“That’s better,” she murmured. Raising her voice, she said, “We are gathered to witness the trial and sentencing of October Daye, regarding the deaths of Katai Suiyou of the Tea Gardens and Blind Michael, Firstborn son of Oberon and Maeve. She is also charged with the poisoning of Duchess Luna Torquill of Shadowed Hills, with the understanding this crime will only bear sentence of death if the injured dies. October Daye, how do you plead?”

“Wait—that was really her name?” I lifted my head, electrified. I’d only heard Lily’s real name once before . . . and now I knew, beyond all question, that I couldn’t have been talking to myself. “Highness, you’re making a mistake. Oleander told me—”

The Queen smiled. That was all: just smiled. “How do you plead?” she repeated.

“You’re not listening to me, and that’s not a fair question.” Putting Blind Michael on the list forced me to plead guilty. Not to everything—but pleading guilty to anything could condemn me.

“That isn’t what I asked,” she said. “How do you plead?”

“Innocent! Highness, you have to listen to me. Oleander—”

“How can you be innocent when you admit to killing Blind Michael?” One of the guards stepped onto the dais, handing her my belt. She held it up, displaying the scabbards holding my knives to the assemblage. “Tell me, I beg.”

“Blind Michael’s death was self-defense,” I objected. “Ask the parents of the children he stole whether he deserved to die.”

“Airs and arrogance aside, you remain a changeling. Your blood is impure. You don’t decide who lives or dies.” She dropped my scabbard. It landed with a clatter. “That’s a job for your betters, not for you.”

“I didn’t hurt Lily or Luna. Ask the subjects of the Tea Gardens. Ask Sylvester Torquill, or any of his knights! This isn’t fair. This isn’t—”

She cut me off again. “We have testimony telling us that you’ve taken advantage of his affection for you, convincing him of your innocence.”

I froze. “Testimony? Whose?”

“Mine.” Raysel stepped from behind the throne, smiling. “I’ve seen you talk my father in circles. He could watch you pour the poison and still call you innocent.”

“One voice isn’t enough to convict,” said the Queen. “Is there another?”

There was a pause almost long enough to let me breathe before Manuel stepped out to join Raysel. “Her lies killed my baby sister. She’s the one who poisoned the Duchess.” The hitch in his voice was slight, but it was there.

I closed my eyes. Manuel was willing to lie in front of the Queen? I knew he hated me. I’d just never realized how far he was willing to let his hatred take him.