Chapter 15

THE RECEPTION WAS in full swing when we arrived. Jasper moved aside, allowing me to choose where I wanted to go. Suddenly Lochlyn was at my side, grasping my elbow.

“What did you do?” she whispered loudly at my ear. “Maxen has already asked me three times if I’ve seen you, and he’s ready to spit nails.”

Before I could respond or even get my bearings in the swirl of fabric, perfume, chatter, and candlelight, the milling crowd shifted and I caught sight of Maxen stalking toward us.

“Save yourself,” I hissed to Lochlyn, and she let go of me and melted away into the guests.

“Lord Lothlorien,” I said regally, and dropped into a deep curtsy.

“Cut that crap out right now, Maguire,” he said, his voice urgent but low enough that his words wouldn’t carry to anyone nearby. “You owe me an explanation. Now.”

I straightened and flicked a glance over at Jasper. He was watching, but was out of earshot, I was pretty sure.

“I can totally explain,” I said. “I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. Huge overreaction on the part of the Duergar. Huge. Seriously, so massive.” I sometimes tended to backslide into adolescent-speak when I knew I was going to have to try to talk my way out of a bind.

He tipped his head, indicating we should move off to the side of the room. Jasper followed, and Emmaline hovered nearby, too. This was not at all how I imagined it would be to have my own entourage. Maxen stopped near the wall.

“What in the name of Oberon is going on?” he demanded. “I get a messenger telling me that you’re in a Duergar cell and they want to accuse you of spying.”

I scoffed. “We’re in Unseelie territory! Everyone here is a spy.”

His mouth drew into an angry, tight line. I shut up.

“I just went out to, you know, look around,” I said pointedly. I dropped my voice to a whisper and put my hand over my mouth to keep anyone from reading my lips. “For the changeling.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so tense. “You have to be more discreet, Petra. This business with the Duergar is too dire to screw around. We can’t be openly pissing them off.”

I blew out a frustrated breath. He was probably right. I should have been stealthier. But I was on a mission on behalf of the Stone Order, and it wasn’t an easy one.

He sighed heavily and beckoned me to lean in.

“Petra, things are more escalated than I thought. If this changeling disappears while the New Gargoyle convoy is here, it will throw our talks into chaos. Periclase will think this trip was just a front for taking the changeling. I’m sorry, but I have to call it off. You can’t do it. Not while we’re here on a diplomatic visit. The Duergar will use it as an excuse to start a war.”

“But Nicole belongs to us,” I protested, my tone thick with alarm. The thought of leaving my own sister here made me feel ill. Maxen didn’t know Nicole was my twin, but I couldn’t help my reaction. “She’s New Gargoyle, and Periclase has no right to detain her. If anything, we should be the ones initiating war against his kingdom for kidnapping one of our changelings. This should make him look bad, not us.”

I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d gotten so fully behind this rescue mission. I’d wanted to get Nicole out from the start, but I realized I also wanted to show Periclase that he couldn’t screw with New Gargoyles—he couldn’t screw with me.

Maxen pulled back a bit and closed his eyes for a beat.

“I know,” he said. “Logically, you’re right. But this is Faerie politics. Logic doesn’t necessarily apply.”

I dropped my arms to my sides and ground my teeth. I wasn’t upset at him, but at the stupid politics of Faerie kingdoms.

“We can’t just leave her, Maxen.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But we can’t do it like this.”

I perked up at his tone. He seemed to have something in mind.

“I’m going to send you home,” he said firmly.

I frowned. I’d thought he had something in mind. “Wait, what?”

“As far as the Duergar are concerned, you’ll be going home,” he said. “It would be uncouth to do it now, in the middle of a party. I’ll wait until tomorrow morning, and then I’ll officially dismiss you.”

“But then I’ll . . .” I left the question hanging, hoping he was implying what I thought he was implying.

“I’ll have to figure out how to get you back in,” he whispered quickly. A cloud of officials had started creeping closer and closer to us, hovering in a way that made it clear they wanted to whisk Maxen back into conversation.

He moved away, leaving me standing alone by the wall.

Jasper strolled over.

Inside, I was revved up with the prospect of what was to come, but I couldn’t let on that anything was amiss. The sight of Jasper’s hand wrapped around Mort’s scabbard made it easy to pull a sullen face.

I crossed my arms. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Get a little lecture and wrist slap from the stone prince?” he asked cheerfully.

I looked off to the side, ignoring him.

“Aw, come on,” he cajoled. “No need to be unfriendly.”

I sighed and then slid my gaze over to glance at his forearm. The one holding my scabbard had the sleeve pulled up slightly, revealing a couple of inches of stone. “Can you form full armor? How much New Garg blood you got, anyway?”

He blinked, seeming caught off guard by my question. His hand reflexively tightened around my scabbard strap.

“Aye, I can summon full armor. As for New Garg blood, about half. Not that it really matters,” he said. He pointed his thumb at his chest. “You may have heard. I’m a bastard.”

It was true. Periclase was his father, but his mother wasn’t the Duergar queen.

“At least you know who your parents are,” I said absently. I was scanning the room for Lochlyn or Emmaline. I spotted both of them near one of the buffet tables.

“Unknown lineage?”

“Yeah, I don’t know who my blood mother is,” I said. I smirked at him, suddenly realizing that he and I were of similar build. “Hey, maybe we’re related.”

“That’d be a terrible pity.”

I turned to give him a sharp look. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he held back a grin. Otherwise, his face remained stoic as he watched me with those unblinking tri-colored eyes.

Variegated eyes.

For some unknown reason, I suddenly remembered the term for Fae irises like Jasper’s that displayed at least three distinct colors in a concentric pattern. They were unusual and very striking.

I dropped my arms to my sides. “If that’s your idea of flirting, you’re kind of shitty at it.”

I turned on my heel and strode away, and his soft chuckle followed me.

Lochlyn was talking to a gray-haired Duergar official, and when she caught sight of me, she brightened and lifted a finger in a just-a-minute gesture. I grabbed a champagne flute from a server and pretended to sip it while I waited. Alcohol dulled my senses, but a drink in hand was useful for blending in.

Lochlyn hurried over. “What’d Maxen say?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said with a glance over my shoulder at Jasper, who stood a couple of feet away.

“Who is that guy?” Lochlyn asked.

I blew out a breath. “My babysitter,” I said grudgingly.

Her brows rose.

“I got in trouble with Periclase when I went on my little adventure earlier, so now I don’t go anywhere without escort.”

Approval flickered in her eyes as she gave him a long look. “Well, you could do worse. A whole lot worse.”

“He’s Periclase’s son.”

“Ah, Jasper. I remember him now from my days at court years ago. He’s grown into quite a man. Those eyes,” she said, her gaze still lingering on Jasper. “This throws a wrench in things, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yep. But there’s a plan in the works,” I said under my breath. “I’m going to have to make an early departure from this realm and then figure out a way to get back in.”

There was a bright flourish of horns near the main doorway, and the entire room’s attention swung that way. King Periclase entered the reception hall with his wife, Courtney, on his arm. In their wake walked a few Duergar lords and ladies, plus a cadre of attendants.

Everyone bowed and curtsied as the Duergar king and queen promenaded into the room. As they passed, Periclase slid a hard glance at me, and then his eyes flicked over to Jasper. The royal couple went to sit on ornate chairs positioned on a raised platform, and a queue of people formed almost immediately.

I glanced over at Emmaline, who was standing inconspicuously off to the side with her hands clasped over her tablet. She walked over.

“We’re not expected to go talk to them, are we?” I asked my page.

She shook her head. “It’s not required, no. Only if you’d like to.”

“Thank Oberon.”

Lochlyn and I watched as Maxen spoke to the royal couple and then moved off to the side. A petite, very slim young woman with silver-blond hair approached him. She’d been standing near the royal throne as if she’d been waiting for him. There was something about her that seemed familiar.

“Who’s that?” I asked Lochlyn.

“No idea,” she said. “You’re not jealous she’s talking to Maxen, are you?”

I shot her a glare, and she snorted a laugh.

“She’s King Periclase’s daughter, but not Queen Courtney’s,” Emmaline supplied. “She’s not on the royal family registry because Periclase never officially claimed her as his, but she’s sworn to the Duergar kingdom. Her name’s Bryna.”

My pulse thumped hard in my temples. Lochlyn and I locked eyes for a second.

“Bryna, as in the Duergar-Spriggan bitch who tried to kill you?” Lochlyn hissed.

“Got to be,” I said. My jaw clenched as I watched Bryna smile and chatter with Maxen. “It’s probably a good thing I’m not holding Mort right now.”

My muscles pulsed with the desire to do some damage to Bryna’s delicately pretty face. But then I considered the situation in the larger scheme of things. I could use Bryna to prompt my early exit from the Duergar kingdom. I liked the idea of getting things rolling. I shoved my champagne flute into Lochlyn’s free hand.

“Petra, wait,” Lochlyn came after me as I began to stomp toward Periclase’s bastard daughter. Lochlyn grabbed my arm.

“I know what I’m doing,” I whispered to Lochlyn and then shook off her hand.