The Unkindest Tide (October Daye #13) - Seanan McGuire Page 0,98

might or might not be good for him.

Oh, well. Too late now.

“There would be . . . consequences, yes,” said Tybalt. “There aren’t so many of us that we can afford to waste lives on petty arguments. The killer would be brought before me, or before their liege if they were not of my Court, and a punishment would be devised.”

“Gotcha.” I whirled, facing Peter. “Who’s in charge of the Selkie clans?”

He blinked. “What?”

“They skirt the line between land and sea, between human and fae. They’re purebloods under the Law when they wear a sealskin, but they care for and protect their human kin, and they’re allowed to tell those kin about the existence of Faerie. So who’s in charge of them? If a Selkie is murdered, who gets involved?”

“They’re our subjects when they’re in the water, but they belong to someone else on the land,” said Peter. “They mostly govern themselves, I guess. Mom never talks about it. She says the Selkies are someone else’s problem.”

“Meaning the Luidaeg’s, but she’s not here right now, and we don’t have time to wait for her,” I said, and glanced at Quentin. “How about you. You ever hear of someone claiming to be in a position of absolute authority over the Selkies?”

Quentin shook his head. “No. They fall under the jurisdiction of the Divided Courts when they quarrel with others among the fae, but when they keep to themselves, they’re allowed to go about their business as they see fit.”

Quentin’s father was the High King of North America. If anyone on the continent claimed absolute authority over the Selkies, Quentin would have known about it. “Meaning the clans handle their own shit. Excellent.” I flashed the group a thin-lipped smile. “Poppy, please lead our Cephali friends to our quarters. Patrick will be relieved to see Peter is alive and well.” I should probably have felt a little bad for making him wait to find that out. Feeling bad wouldn’t make Isla any less dead. “Helmi, can you take the body with you?”

I hated to tote a corpse around the Duchy like a sack of potatoes, but I hated the idea of leaving her here for someone else to stumble across even more. The fae don’t do well with the idea of death. Most purebloods refuse to even acknowledge that it’s something that can happen to them. And until Captain Pete got back, I wasn’t sure whether there was anyone within the Duchy itself in a position to take responsibility for the body. First Mate Rodrick? Someone else? Better to keep Isla with us, at least for the moment.

Helmi looked at Isla thoughtfully before she nodded and said, “We are strong. We have to be, to serve our purpose in the Courts. We can take her.” The other two Cephali nodded as well, echoing her sentiment if not her statement.

I spared a brief thought for how Cassandra and Nolan were going to react when a bunch of half-octopus guards came strolling into the courtyard with a dead woman in their tentacles, then waved it aside. There wasn’t time to worry about the details right now.

“Quentin, Tybalt, you’re with me,” I said.

Tybalt turned his eyes heavenward. “Thank Oberon,” he said. “The lady sees sense.”

“Quiet, you, or I’ll come up with a good reason for you not to come,” I said, earning myself a disdainful look. I swallowed the urge to laugh. A little levity was fine—the urge to whistle past the graveyard is a very normal one, and one that’s served me well in the past—but Isla deserved better. I’d barely met the woman. She could have been a terrible person, cruel to children and animals, and that didn’t matter. Someone had murdered her. She was going to receive whatever justice I could provide.

The three Cephali wound their tentacles carefully around Isla, lifting her off the wood of the dock, building a bier from their own bodies until she was perfectly supported, hanging between them like a jewel on a string.

“I suppose that’s mine to lead them, then,” said Poppy, voice shaking with nerves. She offered Peter her hand. “Come, young lord, and I’ll take you to your father and brother, and to tea and cakes and whatever else we can shake out of the larders. Young lords like that sort of thing.”

“We do,” Peter agreed, and slipped his hand willingly into hers. I let out a slow breath, my shoulders relaxing. Poppy knew where to go, and Helmi wouldn’t let anything happen to