Chapter Fifty-two

Claire spun around, because she knows me, too.

“What?”

I licked my lips, and not just because there was jam on them. She had that weird elfin thing going on suddenly, with the too-translucent skin and the hair color not found in nature—not outside of a bonfire, anyway—and the too-bright eyes. I tried telling myself it was just the light streaming through my sheers, but I knew I was lying.

I had a theory about it, too. I didn’t know if I looked any different when Dorina was around, except for a weird, glowy-eye thing I’d glimpsed once and tried not to think about. But I suspected that Claire’s looks changed when her twin was awake.

Which meant that she was awake right now.

Making this not the time for this particular conversation.

But, as usual with my luck, it was already too late.

“You are not going to tell me that you still don’t think it was her!” Claire demanded.

“Yeah, well. That would certainly be easier.”

“Dory!”

“Look. I would love for Efridis to be guilty, okay? She’s a threat, if not now then later, and it would make things nice and tidy since she’s already in custody—”

“As she ought to be!”

“—but what I want is less important than the facts, and I’m sorry, but they just don’t fit.”

“What facts?”

I held up a buttery finger. “One. Efridis is a well-known vargr, and she wants Aiden dead. Neither of these things is a secret. Yet she uses her best-known skill to attack us, and does it when her brother is here, who will almost certainly recognize it? And possibly recognize her?”

Claire frowned. “She might not have known Caedmon was here. It wasn’t a planned visit and he only arrived that afternoon.”

“And stayed outside most of the day,” I reminded her. “Where any little passing birdie could have seen him. Unless she’s a complete idiot, she’d do some recon before the attack, and Caedmon is hard to miss.”

“But she used the manlikans first. She only came in herself after that didn’t work!”

I nodded. “And the manlikan part I can understand. It could have been blamed on Aeslinn—it’s his element, after all—and he hates Caedmon. Killing his rival’s heir would give him revenge on an old enemy, and might make Caedmon less likely to support the Senate in the war. The fey lead their armies, and Caedmon would be less willing to risk himself without an heir.”

She frowned. “So you think it was Aeslinn?”

“I don’t know. I’m just saying that the manlikan attack didn’t point the finger directly at Efridis. She could plausibly claim to have had nothing to do with it, and try her luck again later if it didn’t work. Only . . . that’s not what happened, is it? Instead, she charges in using her vargr abilities, despite knowing they would put a glowing neon sign over her head.”

Claire shook her head. “It sounds crazy when you put it like that. But when it’s your child . . . it’s not that simple, Dory! You try to think clearly, but emotions get in the way. And she was so close—”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s say she saw her best chance to make Æsubrand heir to two kingdoms slipping away, and decided to go for it. I had a similar thought that night: that the first attack had failed so a second method was being tried. Or that the first was just a feint to get the stairs cleared for the second—”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with it is that Efridis didn’t need them cleared. She already had a potential avatar in the room with Aiden, and she knew that.”

“Dory, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the night a couple weeks ago, when she and Æsubrand came here to warn us about Aeslinn’s attack on the Senate. They kidnapped the kids so I’d listen to what they had to say, and Efridis was actually holding Stinky when I got here. So she knows he lives here, and since she had plenty of time to look around before I showed up, she probably knows he shares a room with Aiden.”

Claire was looking seriously skeeved out. Probably at the reminder of her safe place being violated by the two people she hated most in the world. And of Æsubrand actually having his hands on Aiden, which, yeah.

But she got it together quickly.

“So they were here. What difference does—” She suddenly stopped, because Claire is not slow.

“It makes a difference,” I told her, “because Efridis could have used Stinky instead. He was in the room with Aiden already, and while he’s small, he’s strong—all the Dark Fey are. Yet instead of taking over the kid lying a few feet away, she went all the way to the basement for an avatar, one who fought her viciously the whole trip, and came close to giving everything away. Why?”

Claire didn’t say anything, although her jaw had a mulish set to it that I knew only too well. But she also hadn’t walked away. She was listening.

I held up another finger.

“Two. The rune. If the attacker was Efridis, and she thought she was stabbing Aiden, she’d have had Ymsi remove the rune first. You told me yourself: it’s her family heirloom. She knows how it works. She couldn’t take it off when she and Æsubrand were here, because he’d already decided that his honor wouldn’t allow him to kill a child—”

Claire scowled. “Or he’s afraid it would damage his reputation as the great, purebred hope!”

“Maybe. But whatever the cause, he didn’t allow it. He was holding Aiden when I showed up; Efridis was holding Stinky. He didn’t trust her enough to let her touch him, even then, when they badly wanted our help, because he knew she could remove the rune. Yet, after going through so much trouble to get back in here, without her son this time, she still doesn’t remove it? When she knows Aiden would survive any attack as long as it stayed on his person?”

Claire shook her head. “She was nervous. She thought Soini was the only vargr here. She didn’t expect you—Dorina, I mean.”

“No, she didn’t. But I’d think somebody thousands of years old could handle a few surprises. And Dorina and I didn’t start chasing her until after the child was stabbed. Yet, Efridis still didn’t remove the rune, despite having time. And despite the fact that not doing so rendered the whole trip useless.”

Claire frowned some more.

I held up a third finger. “Three. She didn’t stab Aiden.”

The frown deepened. “You know damned well—”

“That trolls have lousy eyesight. And that the room was dark. And that Efridis wasn’t supposed to know the troll kid was in there, because he only arrived that afternoon. And Stinky was snoring up a storm, as usual, so the nonsnoring kid had to be Aiden, right?”

“Yes!”

I ate some more omelet. It was cold, but still good. I swallowed.

“What about smell?”

Claire blinked. “What?”

“Trolls are used to living in darkness. Those caves that some of them call home are pitch-black, much worse than a bedroom with streetlight sifting in. Yet they navigate them just fine.”

Claire crossed her arms at me. “I had doctored him. Bulsi, I mean, or whatever we’re calling him. I wanted to make sure he didn’t get an infection, since he still had open wounds. So the room reeked of medicine. Maybe Ymsi got confused.”

I stuffed down some toast. “Wouldn’t have mattered. Dorina woke up at the consul’s in an unfamiliar room, and she knew exactly who had been in there—going back hours—what they were and how long they’d stayed, as sure as if she’d watched a film of it. And one of them smelled of medicine, too.”

“Dorina is a first-level master. Ymsi is not!”

I shrugged. “So put a bunch of people in the basement and turn off the lights. Then send Ymsi in, and ask him who was there when he comes out. I’ll bet money he can tell you.”

Claire didn’t say anything, so I worked on finishing up the omelet and toast and fresh fruit and coffee she’d brought me. And was still hungry when I had, because my stomach thinks it’s fey. But at least I managed to clean the plate before Claire spoke again.

“Okay, now I’ve got a point.”

I leaned back with the rest of my coffee. “Okay, shoot.”

“Dorina.” Her eyes were bright, not with anger, but with excitement. She thought she had me. “Louis-Cesare said that Dorina attacked Efridis as soon as she saw her. Why would she do that if she didn’t recognize her?”

I shrugged. “Maybe because she’d just seen a powerful vargr attack the consul, and there was a powerful vargr, standing right beside the consul? Or maybe . . .”

“Or maybe what?”

“Or maybe she did recognize her, just not from the attack last night. Maybe she recognized her from the attack here.”

Claire stared at me. “You just finished telling me that wasn’t her!”

“No, I said the attack using Ymsi wasn’t her. But that night, there were two of everything: two boys, two battles, and two very different attack styles. Why not two attackers?”

---

Claire did not like my theory.

No, that’s not right. Claire hated my theory, and I knew why. I just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Is there a problem?” Olfun asked, backing up abruptly when Claire slammed out of the room.

He had a phone in his hand, and it was ringing. But instead of answering it, he hit TALK and then OFF without so much as a pause in between. And then smiled sadly at me.

“My apologies. Reflex.”

I decided not to ask what that meant.

He proffered it to me. It was the house phone. I needed to go get mine from my car, assuming it wasn’t buried under half a ton of rubble, that was.

A blond eyebrow raised. “Want to tell me about it?”

It took me a second to realize that he didn’t mean the phone.

“I have this theory,” I told him, while gathering up my mess, “that maybe we had more than one attacker here the other night.”

“But of course.”

I looked up.

“No one can hold more than one or perhaps two manlikans at once,” he informed me. “For each one, then, there was probably a fey warrior behind it. First creating and then directing it.”

“Okay, but I was talking about the person running things. The mastermind. Which, if we’re talking Earth magic, makes it look like Efridis or Aeslinn was behind the first attack.”

“Why just the first? The king’s sister is a well-known vargr.”

“Which is why I doubt she’d attack that way.”

Both eyebrows went up. “That is something to think about.”

“Yes, but Claire doesn’t want to think about it.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Olfun took the tray, which won him a raised brow in return.

“I am not allowed to help?” he asked.

“I was under the impression that that sort of thing was beneath your dignity.”

“Some might think so,” he agreed gravely. “I think you saved our lord’s grandson and heir, almost on your own, a few nights ago. While we took more than three minutes to wake up and assist.” His lips twisted. “Perhaps you should carry the sword and I wear the apron.”

“I don’t wear an apron. Ruins the tough-chick look.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re serious,” I realized.

“Of course. It is a serious matter.”

“You’re upset about three minutes? You guys saved the day!”

But Olfun shook his head. “Our performance was no less than shameful. I think it is why Reiðarr challenged you. He wished to regain some of his honor.” He smiled slightly. “You were kind not to make him rue it.”

It had looked like he was ruing it plenty to me, but I decided to emulate dear old Dad for once, and not say so. “He didn’t lose any honor,” I said instead. “Neither did you. Most people would be proud of that response time—”

“Would you be?”

“That’s different. I was already here.”

“As we should have been. We should have been sleeping in the halls with our weapons beside us. Instead, we were treating this as a holiday, a chance to enjoy some of the human world without a mission to distract us. And all the while, we knew the risks.”

“You mean Efridis.”

“Not just Queen Efridis. There are many at court who would be happy enough had the attack succeeded. Particularly now, with the Ice Prince separating himself from some of his father’s . . . eccentricities. Fear of the gods’ return was the main obstacle to many people supporting his claim to the combined throne. Now that they have reason to believe he would not follow in his father’s footsteps, fewer have cause to prefer a child with mixed blood to one of pure, highborn heritage. Particularly when times are so troubled, and the child is young and untested, while Prince Æsubrand is a renowned warrior.”

I scowled. “Yeah. That’s why Claire left court. Someone killed Aiden’s nurse and tried to kill him, so she took him and ran.”

He shook his head. “A shameful thing, and in the palace!”

“And still unresolved. That’s why Claire wants so badly for Efridis to be behind it all. If she was responsible for the attack here, and if the one at court was caused by someone in her pay, then everything works out nicely. She’s under guard, with Caedmon sitting on her to make sure she doesn’t flit off somewhere, and Aiden is safe. Or as safe as he’s ever likely to get. If not . . .”

“If not?”

“Then anyone could be behind this. Aeslinn, some of his court, some of your court, somebody else she doesn’t even know about yet. It’s terrifying.”

Only Olfun didn’t seem to think so.

Because he suddenly grinned. Not another of those solemn smiles that never reached the eyes, but a full-on delighted expression that looked strangely goofy on his serious features. I liked it. I just didn’t understand it.

“What?”

“Did you not wonder why it took us so long to respond the other night?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “I told you. I didn’t think it took long at all.”

“Well, I can assure you that it did. But that was not entirely our fault. We should have already been in the house; it is true. But even from the garden, we should have been here within seconds. Except that we couldn’t hear you.”

“Couldn’t hear us?”

He shook his head, and tapped an elongated ear. “We do not usually have that problem. Certainly not with a house being demolished a short distance away, and with the princess screaming out of her bedroom window!”

“Claire was screaming?” I hadn’t noticed. But then, I’d been getting the ever-loving crap kicked out of me at the time.

He nodded. “She was apparently quite loud, yet we did not hear. Our best guess is that a silence spell, and a strong one, was put on the house prior to the attack.”

“Can the fey do that?”

“Oh, yes. So can human mages.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t narrow the field any, Olfun!”

“No, it does not. But that was not my intention with my story.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Go on.”

“I thought you might wonder how our princess managed to get our attention.”

He was back to deadpan, so I knew this was going to be good. “Yes, I would be quite interested in knowing that.”

“She set our tents on fire.”

I burst out laughing. “What?”

He nodded. “From the house. I awoke to a burning hellscape, and dragon fire is not easily doused. I shan’t soon forget it.”

I guessed not. “So where are you sleeping now?”

“She informed us that we could sleep inside from now on, or out in the elements—she cared not. But that we were forbidden to acquire new tents since they appear to affect our hearing.” He hoisted the tray. “I rather pity anyone foolish enough to come after the little prince.”

From your lips to God’s ears, I thought.

And then, as he started to turn away, the phone rang.

He sighed deeply. “I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“My reason for disturbing you. The guards would collectively like to know if you can please stop him from calling. We sleep inside now, in shifts, and, well . . .” He grimaced. “It must be fifty times today.”

“Get who to stop calling?” I asked, and looked at the phone.

And saw the name on the little view screen.

“You have got to be kidding me!”