"We would be honored to join you," I told her, and her laugh tinkled through the air.
"So she speaks," Claudia cannily said. "I am glad to know you are more than his guard and protector, child."
"As am I," I responded.
As we walked to the table and took seats of our own, a silver platter ful of food - crusty loaves of bread, piles of grapes, decanters of wine - appeared in the middle of it.
The platter sat on a bed of tossed rose petals in the palest shades of pink and yel ow, the colors barely discernable but undeniably there.
I surveyed it suspiciously, and not just because she wanted a snack while the sky was burning around us.
Claudia poured a silver goblet of wine for herself, then did the same for us. "Drink deep," she said, "for there is no enchantment in my hospitality. Had I permanent need of your company I could most certainly assure it without such lures."
She raised her dusky eyes to me, and opened the door on the power she'd been holding in. There was a lot of it, and it wasn't nice. Claudia may have projected elfish sensuality, but the magic beneath the shel was cold, dark, primal, and greedy. Crossing her, I decided, was not a good strategy.
"You are wise," she said into the silence. I blushed at the intrusion into my thoughts, but held my peace. I was freaked out, however, that she could read minds. That was a trick no one had warned me about - and it certainly hadn't been mentioned in the Canon. There was a siren in Lake Michigan, Tate had some sort of ancient power, and fairies could read minds. Maybe it was the English lit geek in me, but I was reminded of a line from Hamlet: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Jonah reached forward and plucked a smal plum from the platter. I opted for a grape nearly as big as the plum had been; smal er fruit, less enchantment by volume, I figured.
And credit where credit was due - it was the best grape I'd ever eaten. As sweet as a grape could be, with a flavor that sang of springtime and sunshine and sun-kissed skin. If this was enchantment, sign me up.
Claudia glanced between me and Jonah. "You are lovers, I think."
"We are friends," Jonah said, shifting a bit in his seat, unhappy with the admission.
"But you desire more," she countered.
Awkwardness descended, and Jonah and I avoided eye contact.
Claudia took a long drink of wine, then looked at me.
"You are hesitant, for you have lost your king."
I caught Jonah's rueful expression out of the corner of my eye. The grape turned bitter in my mouth. "The Master of my House," I corrected. "He was kil ed."
"I knew the true Master of your House. Peter of Cadogan.
He did a service for my folk, and he was rewarded in the manner of our people. He was given a jewel of great repute and fortune. It was nestled in the eye of a dragon."
I'd seen that reward in Ethan's apartment. It was an enamel egg around which was curled a sleeping dragon.
The dragon's eye w {gon"3">I'd as a great, shining ruby.
Ethan had kept the treasure in a glass case.
"The dragon's egg came to Ethan after Peter died. He treasured it." The memory tightened my gut, and I forced myself to keep talking, to keep the tears wal ed away. "But I was told the egg was a gift to Peter Cadogan from Russian royalty."
Claudia smiled faintly. "The worlds of the fae are not limited by human boundaries. We are royalty regardless of our environs, King or Tsar, Queen or Tsarina. I have known many in my time."
"That must have been fascinating," Jonah said, but Claudia was unmoved.
"We care little for politics, for shifting of al iances and changing of guards. They do no service to longevity, to loyalty, to honor." She looked away, staring blankly across the room.
As she did, the food on the table disappeared again, leaving only the scattering of rose petals behind. I reached out and traced my finger across one; I wasn't sure about the food, but the petal was definitely real.
"The lives of humans are transient," she said. "You connect yourselves to them, and you can only expect the same of your own lives."
"That's why we're here," Jonah reminded her. "I assume you know about the sky?" I noticed he kept his tone light, careful y not mentioning the fact that my de facto master had sent us here to accuse Claudia of being behind the transformations.
"The sky is no concern of yours."
"It is when the sky is burning and humans believe vampires are responsible. And now the water has darkened for the second time."
She arched a delicate eyebrow. "The problems of humans have nothing to do with the sky. Nor are they reflected there."
Jonah and I shared a glance. Was she unaware? Had she not looked outside? Although now that I thought of it, I couldn't hear the crash of lightning in the tower. That was odd.
I stole a glance at the guards and checked their expressions. A bit of guilt, I thought, and maybe a little malice. Maybe they'd dissuaded her from opening the door. Shielded her from the happenings outside, not unlike Rapunzel in her tower.
"My lady," Jonah said, "with al due respect, you may wish to look outside and see the world for yourself. The sky isn't normal, and we don't know why."
There was indecision in her eyes - only for a second, but stil there. The debate whether to acknowledge a vampire and look foolish, or refuse Jonah's request and risk discovering the same information later.
"It is not so easy as that," she said. "I cannot look outside.
The rules of your world do not apply here, not to me."
"What rules?" I wondered.
She slid me a disdainful glance. "I am an ancient one, child. I have lived more lifetimes than you can even conceive. But we are not an immortal race. I survive in my tower because I am protected here."
Not unlike the portrait of Dorian Gray, I thought. That explained why she didn't know about the sky.
"Nevertheless," she said, "I have companions to advise me of matters of which I should be aware." She offered a nasty look to the guards, then strode across the room to a table.
She picked up a clear glass orb the size of a grap
{izelesefruit and held it in front of her at chest height. She closed her eyes and began to murmur words beneath her breath. The language wasn't one I'd heard before, but the room fil ed again with dusty magic, the magic of ancient books and antique tapestries.
Slowly, she released her hands, and the sphere floated in the air in front of her, spinning slowly on an invisible axis.