Fourteen #2
Melly inhaled. Exhaled. Looked me dead in the eye.
And said: “I talked to the children who’d been saved, and I got them to tell me how to call his Riders.
There were ways, mostly forgotten, used a long time ago to punish people who wouldn’t fall into line.
When the Daoine Sidhe were first closing their fist around the rest of us, and creating the thrones and crowns we know today.
Refuse to obey, they might summon a Ride against you at any moment. Your children would be at risk.”
I winced. I’d never really asked myself how the Daoine Sidhe—a single descendant line, even if they had the blessing of Titania upon them—had been able to solidify power over so much of Faerie.
It only made sense that after turning so many of Maeve’s children into monsters, they would have looked for ways to use those monsters against anyone who disagreed with them.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on that. Melly was still speaking, voice going dull and thudding as stones falling into place.
“I called the Riders. I asked them whether they knew my Nara, but few of them remembered their names enough to offer them, much less the names of their companions. And when they couldn’t help me find her, I asked them what they needed.
They told me some of his old spells still endured, that some of what he’d done to them could still be done, if it was carried out by one who understood it. ”
“Why?”
She looked at me and shrugged. “Because what they needed was a new leader for their Hunt. And who better to lead them than the granddaughter of the man who made them? They’ve promised to take no more children.
The children are innocent, and they understand that.
When they Ride, they’ll come for the adults, the ones who deserve it.
The ones who should have known better. The ones who should have protected them.
They’ll do things the right way, you’ll see. ”
I stepped backward, away from her, pressing my hand against my mouth like I thought pressure alone could stop me from screaming. She continued to watch me, calm and unflustered.
“I have to tell the Duke,” I said. “Melly, I need you to come with me. You need to explain exactly what you’ve done.
I’m sure he’ll be merciful—he knows I’ll find Raysel before any permanent damage can be done.
” Beyond the damage this was already doing psychologically.
She was going to need years of additional therapy to deal with this.
“No,” said Melly.
“What do you mean, no?
“I mean no. You’re not leaving this room.” She reached into her apron, pulling out a long, wickedly sharp carving knife.
I managed not to laugh, although it was a close thing. “Melly, are you really going to threaten me with a knife? What do you think that’s going to do?”
She blinked, looking momentarily confused, before she held the knife up in front of her at a threatening angle.
“It’s going to let me get out of here,” she said.
“I’ve done nothing wrong. I spoke to some lost children whose parents couldn’t bring them home, and I told them where the duchess was intending to grab the girl.
That was all. No laws, no rules, nothing’s broken. ”
“But Duke Torquill isn’t likely to agree with that,” I said.
“At the very least, he’s going to call your oaths broken.
You should never have told his family’s secrets.
Come on, Melly. Right now, you might just walk away with a dismissal.
Assault one of his knights, and that becomes a lot less likely. ”
“He’s been cruel to you,” she objected. “Ever since you killed that monster and the duchess turned against you, he’s treated you like the filth beneath his feet.
Why are you defending him? Why do you act like your oaths still matter, when he’s the one who stopped honoring them years ago? You don’t need to follow his commands.”
“He didn’t command me to do anything,” I said. “He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Then why…?”
“Because Raysel has been hurt and abused her entire life, and I’m the first adult who’s been able to protect her,” I snapped. “When I took her into my household, that came with certain promises from me to her. She is my ward, she is my responsibility, and I am going to bring. Her. Home.”
Melly stared at me for a moment before her expression hardened. She didn’t put down the knife.
Fine. If she wanted to do it this way, we could do it this way.
I still didn’t think she intended to hurt me: she was hurt and grieving from a sorrow that had been bottled up for so long that it had turned toxic, rotting her away from the inside.
But I was Kerry’s friend, I was the girl she’d watched grow up, and I didn’t think she could hit me with any real conviction.
I stepped in front of her, blocking her from the door.
She made a strangled sobbing sound and put her head down, charging at me like she was trying to play a deadly game of red rover.
I held my ground, tensing against the pain I knew was coming.
I can heal fast enough to recover from almost anything.
That doesn’t mean I like being hurt, and sometimes I can dodge involuntarily.
But this was the fastest, easiest way of disarming her without hurting her, and so I stood my ground as she drove her knife into my gut, momentum carrying her forward until the hilt was flush against my skin and the tip was protruding out my back, leaving me efficiently skewered.
She gasped, sounding like she was the one who’d been stabbed, and stumbled backward, her hands leaving the handle.
“That hurt,” I said, peevishly, and reached down to pull the knife out.
Now, normally, you want to leave an object in the wound, to keep the person who’s been stabbed from bleeding out once the cork has been removed.
With me, you want to get the object out as quickly as possible, to prevent my skin from healing around it and making it impossible to remove without re-injuring me.
It took more wiggling than I liked—she had really shoved it in there—but I was able to get a good-enough grip to pull the knife out of my body, the blade now glossy red with my blood. I looked at it, then at Melly.
“I didn’t think you’d really stab me,” I said. “Kerry’s going to be so disappointed in you.”
She made a strangled choking noise and stumbled backward, away from me and the knife in my hand. She stopped when her back hit the pantry shelves and just stayed there, putting her hands over her face like she thought she could make this all go away if she just didn’t look at it.
I turned to look around the pantry. This was one of the smaller examples of its kind, meant for just grabbing a quick onion or jar of rosemary while cooking; unlike some of the larger pantries, it didn’t appear to have any hidden doors.
There were shelves on every wall, and none of them were unusually lightly laden.
“The Rider I spoke to said there were two people involved in betraying Raysel. That it was a woman who’d become invisible due to place and position, and a man who’d ceased to be a brother when the Ride came through,” I said, still holding the knife in front of me. “Who was it? Was he here?”
“I’m not telling you that,” she said, but her eyes darted to the side, telling me that she was less convinced about her ability to withhold the information than she wanted me to think she was.
“Melly, I’m going to find out.”
“Perhaps. But not from me.”
“Is he here in Shadowed Hills?” I asked.
She looked away. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to ask Sylvester to let me question every member of the household staff.
All your cooks and charmaids, all your pages and scullery hands, standing before their duke while he demands to know how they had been able to stand up and endanger his daughter… ”
She gasped. “You would never,” she said, cheeks blazing red.
“I would, if you made me,” I replied. “It’s up to you. Is the man I’m looking for in Shadowed Hills?”
“He’s not,” she said, sullenly. “He’s not here, he’s not a part of my staff, and you’ll leave them alone, October Daye! If you’ve ever been the girl I helped raise you to be, you’ll leave all of them alone!”
“I think you lost the right to scold me about being the person you were hoping for when you shoved a knife into my guts,” I said. “You don’t get to stab me and then turn around and tell me that I’m doing things wrong. That’s not fair.”
“You’re a fine one to talk to me about fairness,” she muttered. “No monster ever came and snatched your child from her bed. If he had, maybe you’d have a bit more sympathy for those of us who do what must be done.”
“Or maybe I’d have more sympathy for people who didn’t turn themselves into monsters trying to get revenge for what they’d lost. Where is he, Melly?”
“He’s not here.”
“That’s not good enough!”
“I’m telling the truth!”
“Then tell me where he is.”
“He’s at Muir Woods, serving the Queen! I’ve only met him twice, but he’s not here! He’s not hiding in my staff, please! They had nothing to do with this. Leave them alone.” She put her hands over her face, muttering more softly, “Just leave them alone.”
Her shoulders were slumped, and it looked like she was crying behind her fingers. I couldn’t help feeling bad about that. This was a disaster decades in the making, and she hadn’t made it on her own.
“Stay here, Melly,” I said, and turned to open the main door, not waiting for her to reply.
The entire kitchen was silent when I emerged, the various staffers staring at the pantry door like they thought it was going to do a trick.
Maybe it was, in a way. Their eyes got even wider when they saw the blood on my shirt and the knife in my hand.
I closed the door behind me, then threw the latch, sealing Melly inside.