Ashes of Honor

The Folletti got his balance back and raised his sword, the tip aimed at Quentin’s chest. I had no more running left in me. It was all I could do to stay upright, still stumbling forward, knowing that I would never get there in time. On my best day, I couldn’t have made it there in time. There are races in Faerie who can bend space, sling fire, and freeze their enemies with a glance. All I could do was refuse to fall down and die. And it wasn’t enough.

Quentin didn’t make a sound. He didn’t even move. He just stared up at the Folletti standing over him, his hands balled into fists and still held down by the ropes that bound him.

I was so distracted with the effort of staying upright and moving that I barely heard the gunshot. The Folletti who was standing over Quentin stiffened, his sword dropping from his hands before he pitched forward, landing on Quentin with a thud. There was a second gunshot. I whipped around—too fast, way, way too fast, according to the still-gaping wound in my abdomen—to see Officer Thornton standing at the edge of the clearing, his service weapon held at arm’s length. One of the temporarily blinded Folletti must have dropped it. If Officer Thornton had been hiding in the brush, he would have seen his chance when the gun hit the ground.

As to how he wasn’t blinded, I guess there are some advantages to having less sensitive eyesight.

“All you…you…whatever you people are, drop your weapons!” he shouted. “Drop them right now!” Prolonged exposure to Faerie isn’t good for human sanity. From the look on Officer Thornton’s face, he was finding that out firsthand.

Riordan scowled. “Where the fuck are my guards?” she shouted. With a sound like the wind, screaming, the Folletti finally descended on the officer.

I was injured, and he was the one with the gun. Much as I wanted to worry about him, I couldn’t afford to. I turned back toward Quentin, forcing myself to keep going, and finally dropped to my knees next to his chair. Pulling the bloody knife from my belt, I began sawing through the twists of braided bracken that held him.

“Toby!” Quentin’s eyes went wide, fixing on my middle. “You’re hurt!”

“Understatement of the week,” I said, still sawing. “I’ll be fine. Can I borrow your shirt? I need something to bind the wound so I can use both my hands.” The blackness had receded to the edges of my vision. I honestly didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not.

“What happened?”

“Samson. Again. What is it about Cait Sidhe and disemboweling me? Do they need more hobbies?” The last of the bracken holding Quentin in place snapped. I leaned back, only wincing a little as the motion pulled on the skin of my stomach. I was out of resources. This was taking too long to heal.

Quentin rolled out of the chair and scrambled to his feet before pulling his shirt off and offering it to me. That gave me an excellent view of his injuries, which weren’t as severe as Tybalt’s or Etienne’s, being confined to massive bruising of his abdomen, throat, and arms. It was still enough to make bile rise in my throat, barely outpacing the rising tide of rage.

I took the shirt and wound it around my stomach, tying it as firmly as I could with the blood soaking through the fabric. “Help me up,” I said, once I was sure the knot would hold. Quentin reached down and took my arm, pulling me to my feet. “Come on.”

Officer Thornton was keeping the Folletti occupied on the other side of the clearing. I hadn’t been counting gunshots, but the odds were good they hadn’t either; most of them probably had no idea how many bullets were in a standard sidearm. The latest of Riordan’s wagons had rolled clear of the portal, its drivers looking with confusion and awe at the landscape…

And on the other side of the portal I could see Tybalt creeping up behind Chelsea, moving slowly, so as to remain as much a part of the scenery as possible. She seemed oblivious to his approach. That was good. That meant he might actually be able to get hold of her. All he had to do was grab her, get her through the portal, and not stop to think about what that was going to mean for the rest of us.

No Chelsea, no portal to Annwn. No portal to Annwn, no way we were getting out of here. “I hope he can forgive me,” I murmured. At least we had farming supplies. We really could take over one of those castles, as I’d been joking with Raj about.

We probably wouldn’t paint it pink, though.

Quentin followed my gaze. His eyes widened as he realized what my plan had to be. Then he nodded and offered me his arm. “You look like you’re going to fall over.”

“That’s because I am,” I said, taking his arm and leaning on it heavily, grateful for the support. Then I paused, frowning. “Wait. Where’s Etienne? He didn’t reappear after the Folletti—”

“Behind you!” shouted Etienne.

We whipped around to see one of Riordan’s empty wagons bearing down on us with Etienne on the driver’s seat. He rode past us and pulled the horses to a stop. “Get in!”