Late Eclipses

“To kill me?” He nodded wordlessly. “To kill us both?” Again the nod; I heard Connor gasp. “Why am I not surprised? Who sent you?”

Manuel licked his lips. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“I’ll consider it.” I brought the knife carefully closer. “Talk.”

“It was Oleander. She gave me the knife.”

“Oleander.” I sighed, letting go of him and stepping back toward Connor. “You idiot. I suppose she offered you wealth? Power?”

Manuel jumped away, turning to glare at us when he was halfway across the room. “Revenge,” he spat. “The power was for Rayseline. I just wanted you to pay for what you did to my sister.”

“You idiot,” I said, resisting the urge to check on Connor. He didn’t make a sound when Manuel spoke his wife’s name. He always knew she was crazy. Getting proof still had to hurt. “You let Raysel use you so you could hurt me for something I didn’t do.”

“You didn’t save her!”

“Neither did you.” I looked at him levelly. “Devin would never have let us go, not any of us. He was going to kill me and make you into a murderer. Do you think he would’ve let Dare live if she kept challenging him? I don’t. I think he would have made you pull the trigger when he ordered her death. He was using you, Manuel, the way he used everyone else. We’re both responsible for her death, but we didn’t kill her.”

Manuel started to cry. “I … you … I …”

“I know.” I put the knife on the dresser before sliding my arms around Manuel again—embracing, not restraining. He hugged me back, sobbing against my shoulder. I didn’t stop him. I had a feeling he hadn’t let himself cry for a long time.

He let go and stepped away several minutes later, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Connor moved up behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I covered it with my own, asking, “Feel better?” Even I couldn’t have said which I was talking to.

Manuel sniffled, nodding. “A little bit. I … ”

“I know.” I laced my fingers with Connor’s. “Did Oleander salt the roses?”

“What?” Manuel blinked, obviously thrown, before stammering, “No.”

It was Connor who asked the next question in a voice gone dead and dull with resignation, like he already knew the answer: “So who did?”

Manuel glanced between us, and said, “Rayseline.”

“Crap,” I said, looking quickly toward Connor. He’d turned his face away, staring at the wall. “Connor—”

“Don’t.” A pause. “Please.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Manuel, sounding baffled. “The salt’s not going to do any permanent damage. It was just to keep the Duchess out of the way while we … while they … took care of things.”

“No, Manuel,” I said wearily, biting back the urge to slap his oblivious little face. “Salt kills plants. If the soil doesn’t get cleansed, Luna’s going to die.”

“But Rayseline said—”

“She lied to you.” Connor yanked his hand from mine, turning to face Manuel. I’d never seen him look that angry. “Don’t you get that? She’s trying to kill her mother.”

Manuel looked as stricken as if I actually had slapped him. “Kill?”

“That was probably the goal all along.” I glanced at Connor. He was glaring at Manuel like he thought looks alone could kill. “Oleander likes to cause as much damage as she can. Using Luna’s daughter as the murder weapon is the sort of thing she’d love.”

“But … ” Manuel bit his lip. “Raysel was going to go sit with her mother while I took care of you. For an alibi, she said.”

I stared at him. “Raysel’s alone with Luna? And you’re just telling us now?”

“She’s not alone! She took one of the serving girls.”

My head snapped up. “Which one?” Manuel must have seen something in my face that he liked even less than Connor’s glare; he took a step backward. “Which one?!” I demanded again.

“The new one—Nerium. I—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. I grabbed his arm, leaning back to snatch the poisoned knife from the dresser. “Connor, come on!” I shouted, and dragged Manuel behind me as I took off through the panel he’d opened in the wall.

The concealed door led into the maze of hidden hallways and servants’ corridors winding through the knowe. Like the kitchens, those corridors don’t move much—they need to stay consistent for the sake of the household staff. I ran as fast as I could, taking the turns half on instinct, praying I wasn’t already too late. Luck wasn’t on my side; I knew that. Neither was time.

Manuel followed without fighting, letting me lead the way. He didn’t understand yet, but he would, and one way or another, he’d find that understanding over a corpse. It might be mine, and it might be Oleander’s; I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t Luna’s.

There was nothing I could do but hope, and so I hoped. And I ran.

THIRTY-TWO

ONE ROOM BLENDED INTO THE NEXT, the rooms blurring around us until even I was forced to admit that I was lost. “Connor!” I looked back without slowing down. “Where are we?”

“Not a clue,” he wheezed. He was clearly having trouble keeping up, although he was doing his best. Selkies aren’t built to be endurance runners.

Manuel grabbed my elbow and dug his heels into the floor, jerking me to a halt. Connor slammed into us from behind, knocking Manuel and me both forward a step. “Look!” said Manuel, pointing to a heraldic rose carved at the top of the nearest wall. “We’re three halls over from the solarium.”

“You can tell your way around the knowe by the roses?” I said, feeling suddenly stupid. The look on Connor’s face told me he was feeling something similar. The staff always appeared where they were needed, like magic. I should have remembered that sometimes magic is just a convenient excuse for not looking any deeper. It’s no replacement for common sense.

“Well, yeah,” said Manuel, like it was self-evident. “It’s a heraldic rose, so we’re on the northern side of the hall, and it has five petals, so we’re in the eastern part of the north side. The rest is in the notches on the petals and the way the rose is tilted. I’m not as good as the Hobs, but I’m learning.”

Connor leaned against the wall, struggling to get his breath back. I cast him a sympathetic look before asking, “So which way is it to Luna’s room?”

“From here?” Manuel turned in a slow circle. I flexed my hands, resisting the urge to shake him until he answered. I’d already rushed off half-cocked once; I wasn’t going to do it again. He stopped and pointed down a side hall. “That way, right, left, and two more rights. We’ll come out in the library next to the Ducal quarters.”

“Then let’s go.”

We started off again, jogging until Connor was breathing better, and then breaking into a run. The knife I’d taken from Manuel was my only weapon, and if I used it, it would be to kill, not wound; Oleander’s poisons were too well-made for me to assume they’d leave people alive. If I struck out, even to defend myself, I really would be breaking Oberon’s law.

I’d worry about that when the time came … and after I knew that Luna was safe.

We ran for about ten minutes. Manuel took the lead, calling out the turns as we came to them. I wasn’t tired. I should’ve been, just like the hide-and-seek spell should’ve left me reeling from magic-burn. This wasn’t like the Luidaeg’s transformations; this wasn’t going to wear off. Tybalt seemed to think I could undo it myself—but that wouldn’t make me Daoine Sidhe. Whatever I was, it was something I was going to have to learn to live with. Of course, that was assuming I survived to live with anything at all.

“Here.” Manuel waved us to a stop.