Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel (26 page)

I trusted him. Qualifiers were meaningless. Worse yet, he was right; I’d been pushing everyone away as hard as I could since Connor died, trying to isolate myself in order to protect my heart against further damage. Losing a lover and a child on the same day was more than anyone should be asked to bear. But how much could I ask my friends to bear? How much could I expect them to take before they said, “Fine, if you want to push us away, we’re going”?

Our emergence back into the light caught me by surprise. Tybalt kept running for a few more feet, letting us bleed off our momentum. Then he let me go, turning to face me. “Toby,” he said, surprise and delight coloring his voice. “You’ve stopped making yourself heavier than you need to be while we’re running.”

“What?” I blinked, feeling the ice crystals on my eyelashes stick together. I reached up to wipe them away. “What do you mean?”

“This time, while we ran, you didn’t think about how dark the shadows were, or how afraid you were of being lost there.”

“How do you—?”

“Because you came easily, and look.” He waved a hand. “We’re here.”

We were standing on a stretch of grass surrounded by sculpted wild rose hedges. They formed an elegant walking maze, cutting wide avenues through the greenery. Fountains and benches were studded here and there, offering convenient places for people to sit and talk, or rest their feet a little while before continuing on. The shape of the great hall was visible on the other side of the maze, somehow managing to loom across the scene without becoming menacing.

“We are,” I said. “Come on.”

The maze was meant for idle wanderers, not for people who wanted to spend an entire night snared in a labyrinth. We made it through the hedges quickly, emerging onto a swath of lawn. Ahead of us was a gray stone patio, and doors from there led into the great hall. I
didn’t approach. Instead, I stopped where I was, motioned for Tybalt to be quiet, and listened.

He watched with amusement as I turned to one side and then the other. Finally, I pointed to the left. “This way.”

“And why, precisely, is this way superior to any others?”

“Because this way leads to Luna,” I said, and started walking.

Luna Torquill is many things. A Duchess. A Blodynbryd—sort of like a Dryad, only connected to rosebushes, not trees. But above everything else, she’s a gardener. Always has been and probably always will be. And because she’s a gardener, even though Shadowed Hills has groundskeepers, she can often be found in the location of the most noise in the yard.

We came over a low rise to find ourselves facing a vegetable garden being harvested by half a dozen Hobs, a few Brownies, and one delighted Cornish Pixie, who was picking ears of corn from stalks nearly fifteen feet high. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t harvest season. This was Luna’s garden. It would ripen when she wanted it to. Luna herself was on her knees in a patch of strawberry plants, plucking berries from beneath the broad, flat leaves. Some were the normal red. Others were white with the faintest blush of pink, or so dark they seemed black.

“Luna?”

She straightened at the sound of her name. By the time we finished our approach, she was standing, and her gloves were in the basket with the berries. “October,” she said, sounding surprised. “And Tybalt. What are you two doing here? Is everything all right? Sylvester is inside…”

“We’re not here to see Sylvester,” I said. “We’re here to see you.” This was the tricky part. I needed her to help us. I wasn’t yet at the point of telling the Torquills what was going on.

“Me?” Luna blinked again. “Why me?”

“We need access to the Rose Road,” I said. “It’s sort of an emergency.”

As a Blodynbryd, Luna had access to the Rose Roads, which ran, near as I could tell, between the Summerlands and places where the walls of the world had worn thin. I had taken the Rose Road from Shadowed Hills to the Luidaeg’s apartment once, and once into Blind Michael’s lands. Those places weren’t necessarily lost—in fact, they were, by definition, found. They were also outside the normal passages of Faerie. If we wanted to find Raj, we needed a miracle. This seemed close enough for me. I might as well risk it all on the liminal spaces.

Luna’s eyes widened, pink eyelashes making her expression of shock almost comic. It’s taken me a long time to get used to her new coloring, snow white and rose red where she used to be shades of brown. Sometimes, it’s still a little strange. “What do you need the Rose Road for?”

“We’ve sort of misplaced Raj. I think if we can get between realms, we might be able to get a fix on him.” I hoped, anyway.

Luna frowned. “I can’t just open a road with no end. You have to have a destination.”

Destination. Right. “Send us to your mother,” I suggested.

“I don’t know…” said Luna uncertainly.

“Milady of Roses, you know October wouldn’t ask if it were not of direst importance,” said Tybalt. He smiled hopefully. “Please? It would be a great favor, to both of us, and I am sure all will be made clear, given time enough.”

Time enough, and us managing not to die. “Please?” I echoed, trying my hardest to look ingratiating. I probably managed to look deranged.

Fortunately for me, Luna has always been responsive to derangement. “If you get yourself killed, Sylvester will never forgive me,” she said. That was when I knew I’d won. If she was making dire statements about what I
could or couldn’t do to myself on the Rose Road, she was going to send me.

“I know,” I said.

“Just so long as you do.” She bent to retrieve her gardening shears from the basket of strawberries. She opened the shears, using them to snip off a foot-long lock of her pink and red hair. The smell of roses was suddenly strong, and grew stronger as she shook the cut hair.

Somewhere in the middle of the motion the curl straightened, taking on overtones of green. And then it wasn’t hair anymore, but a long-stemmed white rose. She held it out to me. I took it, managing not to wince when the inevitable thorns bit into my fingers. The edges of the petals began turning red, the color spreading inward like blood spreading through white silk.

“Both of you,” she said, gesturing for Tybalt to take hold of the rose as well.

“As you like,” he said, and wrapped his fingers around mine. The red began spreading faster, taking on a deeper hue. The smell of pennyroyal and musk rose around us, and I realized that the other things I smelled—roses, and fresh grass, and blood—weren’t just part of being in the garden. Luna’s rose-red magic was rising, and my own cut grass and bloody copper was answering the call.

“Breathe in,” said Luna. Tybalt and I did as we were told. “Good. Now breathe out, turn around, and start walking.”

It was no surprise to turn and see the gateway, even though there had been nothing there but grass when we arrived. It was shaped like a wicker trellis, with red and white roses growing around it in such vulgar profusion that they almost concealed the structure underneath. Beyond them, a tunnel enclosed by roses stretched into the distance. The only safe place to walk was the narrow dirt path between the creepers and the thorns, and even that was occasionally crossed by fallen branches, making the way hazardous to all but the most cautious traveler.

“Walk quickly, but walk with care,” said Luna. “Don’t look back. If you look back, you’ll have to go back the
way you came or risk falling off the Road, and I won’t be able to retrieve you if you wind up somewhere you didn’t mean to be.”

“Got it,” I said. “Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Don’t let go of the rose until you’re off the Road, and don’t let it out of your sight until you’re absolutely sure you’re not going to need it anymore.”

“I do so love how all magic comes with its share of dire warnings and unclear requirements,” sighed Tybalt. “It’s like being on the stage, only there’s no director, and the understudies have all died of typhus.”

“On that charming note, see you later, Luna. Here’s hoping we don’t die.” I kept a firm grip on the rose as I started forward. Tybalt walked alongside me, his steps paced to mine, and together we passed through the archway. I heard it close behind us. We were on the Rose Road, and we were alone. The only question was what we were going to do next.

I
DUG THE LUIDAEG’S CHARM from my pocket as we walked, holding it in front of me. It was still in its neutral state, although the reflections off the roses around us tinted it pale pink. “Chelsea’s not near here,” I said. “Do whatever hoodoo you need to do to know if Raj is nearby.”

“Hoodoo?” said Tybalt, sounding amused. “I’m the King of Cats, October, not the King of Goblins.”

“And you don’t live in a labyrinth, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make like a Henson character and start scrying for our missing boy. Also, how have you even seen that movie? Does the Court of Cats have cable?” I kept walking. “This thing will eventually dump us in Acacia’s backyard. I’m hoping we can get a lead on one or both of the kids before we get there.”

“But Chelsea is your priority.”

“No,” I said. “Raj is. Chelsea’s in trouble, but she can get herself out of it. Raj is somewhere he can’t get out of. I don’t leave people behind.”

There was a moment of silence. I risked a glance to the side. Tybalt was watching me, an odd, thoughtful expression on his face. He looked away when he saw me looking.

“Well, then, I suppose I must rise to your example.”
He waved his free hand in the air, the smell of pennyroyal swirling around us before converging in the space just above his palm. He cupped his hand, and a globe of what seemed to be solidified shadow dropped into it. “Here. This will tell us if there is only a thin wall between me and my nephew.”

“Good.” I kept walking. “Hey. Can I ask you a question?”

“My dear October, we are bound by an enchanted rose made from the hair of a Duchess, and my blood is covering your hand. You can learn anything you wish to know about me merely by licking your fingers.” Tybalt laughed a little. “Yes. You may ask me a question.”

“Back in the Court of Cats, you said you made a mistake when you took Raj as a nephew. What did you mean?”

“You have an uncanny ear for the things I most wish you would forget, while willfully and continually forgetting the things I wish you would remember,” said Tybalt dryly. “I had a choice, when Raj’s parents brought him to me. I could do as they asked, take him as a nephew and let them stay by his side. Or I could do as my father taught me, take him as a son, raise him as my own, and drive them as far from my territory as I could.”

“Oh.” We kept walking. Finally, I said, “I don’t like Raj’s dad. He’s kind of an asshole. But I’m glad you let him stay with his son. I think it says something good about your character.”

“I appreciate your approval,” said Tybalt. Then he laughed. “Had I known it was as easy to get as all that, I might have confessed my softheartedness years ago. Really, October, you should provide a list of ways to reach your good side. It would be a kindness beyond measure.”

“I’m not that complicated,” I protested.

“As someone who has to deal with you on a regular basis, I beg to differ,” said Tybalt. “At times, I suspect you’re doing it intentional—” He stopped in the middle of the word. He stopped walking at the same time, jerking me to an unexpected halt. The rose thorns bit deeper into my fingers. I yelped.

“Dammit, Tybalt! What gives?”

“I’m afraid I owe you an apology,” said Tybalt, eyes wide. He held up his ball of shadow. Ball of mostly shadow—swirls of bluish light were moving through it, appearing and disappearing like eels swimming in brackish water. “He’s near. Not here, but…near.”

“Where?”

Tybalt nodded toward the nearest tangled wall of rosebushes. “That way.”

“Then let’s go.”

He shot me a surprised look.

I smiled. “I trust you. Now open up those shadows, and let’s bring our boy home.”

Tybalt nodded. Pulling back, he threw his ball of shadow at the roses. It stuck where it hit. Then it dissolved, blackness spreading over branches, thorns, and flowers alike to create a black “doorway” in the wall. I could feel the chill radiating out of it.

There was a time when Tybalt only got me into the shadows by surprising me or jerking me off-balance. That time has passed. I walked with him into the dark willingly, the rose still joining our hands. For a moment, the light of the Rose Road shone in from behind us, illuminating nothing, but making that nothing a little easier to see. Then the way behind us closed, and everything was blackness.

We stopped walking and just stood there in the dark, not moving. I forced myself not to breathe and tried not to shiver too hard. The cold of the Shadow Roads was somehow worse when we held still, as though that immobility really allowed the frost to catch hold and begin gnawing its way inside. Even the blood on my fingers was freezing; I could feel it turning to ice.

Finally Tybalt whispered, “This way,” and pulled me forward. There was a horrible wrenching, twisting sensation, as if the shadows were pushing back against us, as if we were going somewhere we weren’t meant to be. It became almost painful, and still Tybalt kept pulling me forward. I gritted my teeth and kept going, trusting him
to know what he was doing. The twisting became a tearing, and the cold became a burn, and just as I was about to scream—