The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,47

the Duchy of Ships, my new gown was archaic and piratical at the same time. The skirt was more properly plural, and had been slashed into strips starting at mid-thigh, both to offer me freedom of movement and to show the layer beneath it, which had been similarly slashed to show the layer beneath it, and so on. The top layer was a deep reddish-brown, like dried blood, and each successive layer grew brighter, from arterial red to rosy red to pink to a final layer as white as newly-fallen snow. My bodice was black, constricting enough to feel like corsetry, and based on the way it felt when I breathed, properly boned. There were no sleeves. Instead, a cascade of elbow-length ribbons in colors that matched my skirts tangled around my arms, creating an effect that was probably striking from the outside, but was annoying as hell against my skin. My sneakers were gone, replaced by snug calf-length boots with low heels.

The Luidaeg looked critically at my hair. “It’ll do,” she said. “And before you freak out, your knife is still at your side. Just reach through the slit where you think a pocket ought to be.”

Her clothing had changed along with mine, although her new dress was nowhere near so busy, or so modern. She wore a white samite shift in a distinctly medieval style, the fabric glimmering with hints of blue and green and pearl. Her arms were bare, her neck was exposed, and her hair was loose, cascading down her back in heavy curls. It looked like it had gotten longer when the tape disappeared. The Luidaeg is a protean creature. Just because she usually keeps her physical form within a certain set of constraints, that doesn’t make her any less of a shapeshifter.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen what the Luidaeg really looks like. I’m not sure I want to.

“Come on,” she said, beckoning for me to follow as she started toward the mouth of the courtyard. “We need to get this part over with, so the true troubles can begin.”

When one of the Firstborn tells you to follow, you follow. I pulled up even with her, matching my steps to hers, and managed not to look back as we stepped out of the hollowed-out ship that was our temporary home, into the greater body of the Duchy.

It was strange to be walking away from my boys. Quentin and Tybalt should have been by my side, letting me lead them into the dangers of the moment, and the fact that they weren’t was unsettling. They were probably going to be pretty pissed when they realized I was gone. At least they both understood that when the Luidaeg spoke, it wasn’t a good idea to argue.

The Duchy of Ships seemed to have been modeled off a dockside town from the turn of the twentieth century, just one that happened to be floating on the open ocean and constructed so that “vertical” was as much of a civic planning option as “horizontal.” Our little slice of space was clearly located in a residential area; we walked past more courtyards like ours, and larger, more defined private homes, some of which had been built from repurposed vessels, while others wouldn’t have looked out of place on a San Francisco street.

Gradually, the bigger residences gave way to stacked shacks connected by rope ladders, with clever pulley systems clearly designed to help the people who lived there transport goods. I blinked at the rope, finally realizing what had been bothering me.

“There aren’t any pixies,” I said.

“Too many things out here think of them as snack foods,” said the Luidaeg. “Dangerous as it is for them on the land, it’s twice as bad out at sea.”

“Huh.” It was strange, walking through a fae holding and not seeing any sign of Faerie’s smallest residents. The varieties of fae around me were even stranger, largely due to unfamiliarity. I knew some of them—Cephali, Sirens, even the occasional Asrai—but others were new. I wanted to breathe in their heritage, to get a sense of the shape of their blood, but I didn’t dare. I had no idea how many spells were woven into the body of this impossible duchy, and the last thing I needed was to be knocked on my ass by too many unexpected magics.

Everyone we passed shied away from us, refusing to meet the Luidaeg’s eyes. They seemed to know who she was, better than people normally did when we were