Chapter 14

I HAD A pretty decent view of the ass of the guy carrying me as I hung over his shoulder like a giant sack of turnips. It was muscular. Not bad. Decent calves, too, as revealed by his tight-fitting trousers.

The feeling was beginning to return to my extremities by the time we’d gone up a couple of floors. I cleared my throat, testing my vocal chords.

“There’s no reason for all of this,” I said, sounding only a little hoarse. “I simply got turned around. I mean, six guards? Just for little old me? Surely that’s an overreaction to a guest losing her way in an unfamiliar palace?”

I put a little extra emphasis on the word “guest.”

“You didn’t get turned around,” said the one carrying me. Again with the mild tone, as if he was out for a stroll in the woods. He didn’t even sound winded after carrying me up two flights of stairs, which I found annoying for some odd reason.

“I assure you I did,” I said. I gave a self-effacing little laugh, still hoping he’d go for it and soften but getting the distinct impression he wasn’t that gullible. “I have a downright atrocious sense of direction. Please, if you just put me down, I can explain.”

He snorted and adjusted my weight over his shoulder. “I know who you are, Petra Maguire. And I assure you, you’re not going to talk your way out of this.”

Ire flashed through me, white-hot. I had a childish desire to try to ruffle him out of his calm tone, but given my predicament, I thought better of it.

“Well, I think you’re making a huge mistake,” I said pleasantly. “But since it appears we’re in this together, why don’t we get to know each other a little? It seems only fair that you tell me your name, seeing as how you already know mine.”

He actually let out a laugh. It was deep and resonant, and I imagined those crazy eyes creasing a little at the corners.

“It’s Jasper.”

I frowned as the name plucked at my memory.

Oh, damn it to Maeve.

“Not Jasper, King Periclase’s son?” I winced as I said it, as if the answer was going to cause me physical pain.

“See? I knew you were sharper than you were letting on.” He had a very faint brogue—too subtle to tell if it was Irish or Scottish—indicating he must have spent some portion of his childhood in the Old World, unlike me. I was New World born and raised in the San Francisco-anchored fortress.

The zap wasn’t wearing off as quickly as I’d hoped, and Jasper and the other guards had brought me to a wing that appeared to be offices or some other rooms where official business was conducted. The Duergar seal and colors seemed to be everywhere.

Jasper halted and rapped on a door. A moment later, I heard it unlatch.

“The others can go,” said a male voice.

I tried to twist around to see who was speaking, but my torso muscles weren’t up to the task yet. Jasper carried me through the doorway. When he turned to close the door, I caught an upside-down glimpse of an armored guard, like one who’d stood beside King Periclase in the forest. He was dressed differently than Jasper, who looked more like a military man than a royal guard.

With much jostling, Jasper muscled me into a chair. My head bobbed a little before I could control it, and I ground my teeth—this whole rag doll thing was not exactly putting me in a position of influence in this situation.

Jasper moved back to stand near the door. He held a magi-zapper casually at his side, and his other hand rested on the pommel of the short sword at his waist. I cast a quick look around. The room was about fifteen feet square and windowless, and I seemed to be positioned at the back of it.

When I saw that the armored guard held my scabbard, my hands twitched with the desire to snatch Mort away.

“Watch yourself,” I growled at him. “That’s a shadowsteel spellblade you’re holding.”

He didn’t react but just gazed coldly at me through his barbute-style helmet, which had an open T that left his eyes, nose, the center strip of mouth, and chin exposed. Then he slowly lifted his other hand and stroked Mort’s grip in a lewd gesture. Wrath and adrenaline spiked through me. There was a sharp pulse from Mort—from my own blood infused in the steel—as if the broadsword protested being touched by the brute. It was a reaction that only I could feel.

I leaned forward as if to stand. “I’m warning you, asshole.”

Jasper stepped forward, his neutral expression tightening just a hair. “You’re in no position to be warning anyone,” he said to me. “For your own good, stay where you are.”

He turned his hand, showing me the magi-zapper. At first I thought he was threatening me with it, but he was gesturing at something.

I tipped my gaze down. There were a couple of metal loops bolted to the floor. Attached to each was a short chain with a shackle. My jaw tightened as I sensed something faint but distinctly malicious emanating from those innocuous-looking lengths of metal. Sky iron. The rarest and most poisonous type of iron. This was an interrogation room. My New Garg blood was decent protection against lesser types like cold iron, but no Fae was resistant to sky iron. I suddenly became aware of the same dark impression coming from either side. I slid my eyes to the right and caught sight of a length of fine chain. More sky iron. I didn’t have to look to the left to know that an identical chain hung there, too.

I only had a few seconds to contemplate the implications when the door swung open. King Periclase strode in. He was flanked by a couple of guards who were nearly identical in stature and uniform to the one who still clutched Mort in his meaty paw. The Duergar king was dressed in his courtly best. Leather trousers, a white tunic tucked in to show off his narrow waist, studded leather boots that hit just below his knees, and a cape. A floor-length fricking cape. It should have looked ridiculous, but somehow Periclase made it look badass.

The guards hung back while Periclase came to loom right in front of me. I planted my feet and pushed off my thighs with my hands to stand. No way I was going to sit there on my ass and look up at him, even if my muscles still felt like al dente linguine. My knees wobbled. I locked them out and leaned back just enough to brace my legs against the edge of the chair. I lifted my chin and returned his unblinking gaze. There was no way in hell I could curtsy without collapsing, but the Duergar king didn’t seem to notice my violation of decorum.

Periclase tilted his head ever so slightly, regarding me. “So. Oliver’s daughter. Not even here an hour, and already causing trouble.”

Inside, I relaxed just a little. He was irritated but didn’t seem in the mood to torture me with sky iron.

“I simply got lost, that’s all, Your Majesty,” I said coolly. I raised a palm to gesture at the guards. “This seems unnecessary.”

He smiled, and the stone side of his face remained unmoving. There was absolutely nothing warm or friendly about his expression.

“One can’t be too careful in the current political climate,” Periclase said. He lifted an arm and flicked his finger, and Jasper moved to stand just behind his father. “I’ve spoken to Lord Lothlorien, and he agrees that we mustn’t risk you losing your way again while you’re here. For the remainder of your visit, my battle captain will accompany you everywhere you go.”

My eyes flicked over to Jasper. He looked neither pleased nor irked with his assignment.

“Oh, I assure you it won’t happen again, Your Majesty,” I said. “My page has maps, and I’ll make sure she’s with me whenever I leave my—”

“You will have a special escort for the remainder of your visit,” he repeated, cutting me off.

His voice was even, but his brows rose almost imperceptibly. I snapped my trap shut as I realized what it meant. He was challenging me to argue again. He would relish taking more severe action, and if I provoked it, he’d be able to justify it to Maxen. For once, my better judgment actually kicked in, and I restrained myself. Instead of arguing, I inclined my head.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” I nearly sounded as if I meant it.

I needed to make nice. I’d figure out how to lose Jasper later.

King Periclase turned neatly on his heel, making his cape billow out a bit, and he strode toward the door. One of his personal guards opened it for him. Suddenly feeling a whole lot steadier, I stalked toward the guy who still held Mort, ready to rip the scabbard from his hands.

Just as I reached for it, Periclase paused in the doorway and pivoted around to look at me.

“And Jasper will carry your broadsword,” the Duergar king pronounced.

I saw red. It was a good thing Periclase left immediately because I couldn’t contain myself. I turned my back on Jasper and Meat Hands, planted my fists on my hips, and let out a muttered string of swearing that cursed the Duergar three generations backward and forward. Then I took a deep breath and faced them.

“I’m sure my page and my roommate are wondering where I am,” I said sweetly to Jasper. “Would you mind if we returned to my quarters?”

His lips twitched. “Certainly, Lady Maguire. And rest assured, I won’t take you on a single wrong turn. Pay attention as you go, and maybe you’ll become better equipped to navigate the palace.”

My hands clenched into fists as Jasper took Mort from Meat Hands. My personal escort swung the strap of the scabbard over his shoulder like a bag. Having Jasper carry it was slightly less offensive, but only by a hair.

Meat Hands opened the door, and Jasper nodded at me. “After you.”

I was too pissed to try to make any conversation on the way back to my quarters. I went in and slammed the door in Jasper’s face. Well, I wanted to think I did. In actuality, he hadn’t tried to come in.

Emmaline rushed at me. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “And where’s your sword?” She gave me an alarmed look.

“Long story,” I grumbled.

“Well, you need to change,” she said. She pushed the blue dress at me. “I found out after you left that formal dress is required, and we’re twenty minutes late to the cocktail reception. This is not making a good impression.”

“I don’t think Periclase is going to care too much about my impression at this point,” I said.

With irate, sharp movements, I took off my blouse and riding pants and pulled on the dress. Having to change back into that outfit somehow added insult to injury.

Hands on hips, I stood before Emmaline two minutes later. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Your hair?” She gestured.

I shook my head. “Not happening.”

I took a slow breath to compose myself and then pasted on the best fake smile I could manage. I opened the door. Jasper pushed away from the wall, and the faintest surprise registered in his colorful eyes as his gaze flicked down over my dress.

“Emmaline, this is Jasper,” I said over my shoulder to my page with exaggerated brightness. “We’re going to see a hell of a lot of him while we’re here, so the two of you might as well get acquainted.”

My fake smile slipped, trying to curl into an irate sneer, before I snapped it back into place.

Jasper had the audacity to let out a little chuckle. I glared at his back the whole way to the reception hall.