I didn’t move.
And he’d known I wouldn’t, because he hadn’t moved, either. Except to tighten one strong hand a little more around his captive’s diapered bottom. Aiden, fast asleep and slack-limbed, the silky blond hair tousled and hanging in his face.
And Stinky wasn’t far off. He was kicking fretfully in the arms of a woman across the room, but not making any headway. He looked vague, the big eyes half-lidded, one blue sock clinging precariously to a few stick-like toes. Unlike the woman, whose star-like gaze was sharp as a knife.
She was tall, more so even than Claire, with a wave of golden hair that cascaded down her dark blue gown, almost reaching her embroidered satin shoes. She was fresh-faced, pink-cheeked, blue-eyed and stunning. She looked about sixteen.
She wasn’t.
Unless I was way, way luckier than normal, I thought I knew why mama hadn’t been covering for Æsubrand.
Because she’d been with him.
“We have been expecting you,” Æsubrand told me, his mouth quirking as I just continued to stand there.
“This is the creature you told me about?” his mother asked, looking me over. She didn’t appear impressed. I wished I could say the same.
“She can be surprising,” he murmured, his hand running over the soft baby hair of his hostage.
“How did you get in here?” I rasped, stalling for time. Where the hell were the twins? Or the garden full of dreadful warriors we were supposed to have? Or Claire.
I felt my stomach go into free fall.
Where was Claire?
“C’est pas difficile,” a familiar voice said, causing me to jump. But we hadn’t had a new arrival. A glance across the room showed Stinky being held in the same spot, in the same position. But now he was cradled in the arms of an overweight Frenchman in chef’s whites.
“My mother is skilled in glamourie,” Æsubrand said casually. “And in far-seeing. She has been watching the house through the eyes of one of her bird-creatures, and saw the vampire’s servants arrive yesterday. It was simple enough to mimic one of them, and persuade the half-breed to let her in through the wards.”
“A weary mother will rarely turn down an offer of help,” the woman’s voice said, sounding strange coming from the man’s throat.
“So you helped her…how?” I asked, afraid I already knew. I didn’t think Efridís had chosen to impersonate the chef by accident.
“I offered to cook le diner,” she said, the clear young voice turning amused.
My blood ran cold.
“But this one, he is part Duergar,” she continued, glancing at the sleepy Stinky. “Their kind are resistant to drugs.”
“Drugs?” I said sharply, not allowing myself to hope. There were plenty of lethal drugs, after all.…
“They live,” Efridís said shortly, melting back into herself. “My son believes we need your assistance.”
“My…” I looked back at Æsubrand, who had settled himself comfortably in the big red wingback chair. Like he was here for a friendly chat.
Yeah. That was likely.
But Stinky was still alive, and Aiden. And Claire—
“I want to see Claire,” I told him.
He frowned. “We do not have much time. I expected you to return hours ago. There is—”
“I want to see her!” I repeated. And even to me, my voice sounded a little…high.
Screw it. It had been a long day.
The two fey exchanged glances, then Efridís nodded. “Come.”