By Seanan McGuire
Issues are having a look up.
For the 1st time in what appears like years, October "Toby" Daye has been capable of pause lengthy adequate to take a breath and consider her existence -- and he or she likes what she sees. She has buddies. She has allies. She has a squire to coach and a King of Cats to like, and perhaps, simply possibly, she will permit her safeguard down for a change.
Or no longer. while Queen Windermere's seneschal is elf-shot and thrown into an enchanted sleep by way of brokers from the neighboring state of Silences, Toby unearths herself in a job she by no means anticipated to play: that of a diplomat. She needs to shuttle to Portland, Oregon, to persuade King Rhys of Silences to not visit warfare opposed to the Mists. yet not anything is that straightforward, and what October reveals in Silences is worse than she could ever have imagined.
How a long way will Toby move whilst lives are at the line, and whilst allies either previous and new are threatened through a strength she had by no means anticipated to stand back? How a lot is October keen to renounce, and what kind of is she keen to alter? In Faerie, what's previous is rarely rather gone.
It's simply awaiting a chance to pounce.
A Red-Rose Chain is the 9th installment in Seanan McGuire's city fable October "Toby" Daye sequence.
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Extra info for A Red-Rose Chain (October Daye, Book 9)
He’s not even Italian! And though he loved her he could not explain that St. Isidore, though in no official capacity did he serve men of Ludovico’s persuasion, seemed to him the great saint of books, haloed in bumblebees who demanded at least two full columns devoted to their sociology in the saint’s Etymologiae, that massive compendium of medieval knowledge, the first encyclopedia, possessing the whole world between its boards. When Lucia descended into such contrary moods, Ludo simply kissed the place where her soft black hair faded into the skin of her temple, and recited to her Isidore’s thoughts on the contrary nature of the chimera.
She could not draw breath for the taste of sassafras and rum in Yumiko’s mouth, the sharpness of her small white teeth. Sei felt herself flip over—white to black, disappearing into the board, lost. 125th and Peregrine SEI DREAMS AGAINST HER TATAMI that night of an intersection garlanded with black flags fastened to string with clothespins of mother-of-pearl. On the north corner: a cartographer’s studio. Pots of ink hide in every crevice, parchment spreads out over dozens of tables. A Casimira pigeon perches in a baleen cage and trills out the hours faithfully.
She is singing tenor, her smoke-throated voice pressing long kisses against his strings. His playing is so quick and lovely that the trains stop to listen, inclining on the rails and opening their doors to catch the glissandos spilling from him. His instrument case lies open at his feet, and each passenger who takes the Marginalia Line brings his fee—single pearls, dropped one by one into the leather case until it overflows like a pitcher of milk. In the corners of the station, cockroaches with fiber-optic wings scrape the tiles with their feet, and their scraping keeps the beat for the player and his singer.
A Red-Rose Chain (October Daye, Book 9) by Seanan McGuire