She looked pained. “The happy one.”
Oh, Burbles.
“So we knew you’d be here sometime tonight. We persuaded a few party guests to include us in their group and, well . . .” She shrugged.
I frowned. With the mental gifts I’d seen her use, I could well believe that she could persuade some humans—even magical ones—that she was their best friend, at least long enough to get in the door. But there was something I didn’t get. “How did you bug my phone? You never had it.”
“There are ways to do it remotely. It’s not my thing, but Trevor said—”
“Trevor?” Despite everything, I felt myself start to grin.
She bit her lip.
“You’re partnered with a guy named—”
“There aren’t a lot of people willing to take you on!”
“For reasons,” Radu murmured, still puttering.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He beamed at her. “Such a pretty girl. You wouldn’t like being on the Senate, you know. So many boring meetings.”
“It’s the pinnacle of our existence! It’s what we live for, fight for! The chance to lead—”
“Yes, yes, that’s what they tell you,” he said, examining something he’d pulled from one of the cases. “Until you get on it. Then it’s all fiscal reports and bad coffee.”
She blinked at him some more.
“Hey!” I called to Louis-Cesare. “Don’t kill Trevor. I need him to fix my phone.”
“Trevor?” He looked confused for a moment, and then down at his bloody lump of a club. He tossed it away, and it tried to crawl off, before being trampled by the cavalry chasing their boss.
I turned back around, to see Purple Hair glowering at me.
“Don’t blame me,” I told her. “How did you think coming to Mircea’s apartment was going to go?”
“We didn’t have a choice!”
“You couldn’t just catch me out somewhere?”
“Like the theatre?” she asked sourly.
I grinned. “Dry out yet?”
She scowled. “Sure. This is all funny to you.”
“It actually wasn’t that funny,” I said, but she wasn’t listening.
“Like running around in old sweats or—” She gestured at my sensible underwear. “Here the rest of us are, trying to be as intimidating as possible, and you go around like that. Like we’re all just ridiculous and you don’t have to care.”
“I don’t actually dress with you in mind.”
“I know. That’s what’s so infuriating. Everyone else is so concerned with their image, and you just . . .” Her lips tightened. “You walked out of that house the other day, no weapons, no makeup, barefoot. And I wondered why my skin suddenly tightened. I realized later: the most intimidating look is not to have one at all.”
“And yet you came back.”
“What else is there? You don’t know what it’s like, starting with nothing and clawing your way up, year after year, century after century. Until, finally, you get within sight of everything you ever wanted, only to have the rug ripped out from under you.”