“What do you want?” he snapped.
Once Phaedra had dematerialized, the Nightkind King’s attendants had relaxed. Julian slipped his hands into his pockets and turned to stroll along the slip closer to Sebastian and Olivia.
Julian said, “Usually the Elder tribunal is careful to close loopholes and contain all contingencies, but occasionally their edicts hold certain omissions. Here is a case in point. If your crew does not make the initial crossover within three—well, now it is nearing two—days Carling loses all rights to any of her property on the island. That deadline is non-negotiable. There is no provision for you being unavoidably detained. For example, the police can take your crew in for questioning in relation to various crimes that have occurred in the city this evening. They can detain them for up to forty-eight hours without booking them.”
Sebastian very gently let go of Olivia to face Julian. He gripped the railing with both hands, struggling with the desire to throttle the Nightkind King himself. He growled, “Why the fuck would you do that? Are you that petty?”
At his angry words, a couple of the ghouls snarled and stepped forward.
Julian waved them back, and said, “Actually, I have no desire to do that.” He stood in a casual stance, hands still in his pockets as he tilted his head back to stare up at Sebastian. “Carling has invested a lot of time and energy into collecting that library over the centuries, and I don’t care if she retrieves it. I do care about making sure she hasn’t used retrieving the library as an excuse to implement some other agenda in my demesne.”
“For God’s sake, like what?”
“I don’t know. But if you think she is not capable of such subterfuge, you don’t know Carling at all.” Julian pulled his hands out of his pockets. “So here is the deal. I am going to search your yacht quite thoroughly, and you are going to let me. Of course, if you choose not to allow it, I won’t be able to promise that your people will make it back in time to make the deadline.”
Sebastian clenched his hands on the railing so tightly, his fingers went numb. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Olivia put a hand on his back. He didn’t know her well enough to interpret what she was trying to communicate, but her touch had the odd effect of calming him down. Just a little.
“Fine,” he said. “On one condition.”
Julian’s people were so confident they had already started forward, which infuriated him, but they stopped again almost immediately.
Julian raised his eyebrows. “And that is?”
“You do exactly what Phaedra said,” Sebastian told him, his voice clipped. “You do not meet this woman’s eyes.” He pointed at Olivia. He didn’t care if it sounded or appeared rude. Olivia was already vulnerable to Julian, and Sebastian would be damned if he made that worse by giving Julian her name. “You do not talk to her. Not physically. Not telepathically.”
“Well,” said Julian. The King’s voice had turned wry. “At least I can promise that I won’t talk to her any more than I already have.”
A half an hour later, a raging Sebastian paced in his cabin.
His room was easily three times the size of the others, with a wide cabin window, a double bed that he could fold up against the wall when he wanted to, and a desk that was built into the other wall. Still, he could only get a good five paces in before he had to whirl around and return.
The Nightkind guards had searched his cabin first with an insulting thoroughness. Now Olivia sat in the chair at his desk while they searched the rest of the yacht and Bailey dealt with them on her own.
Phaedra surrounded the cabin with her presence, filtering out all evidence of Julian’s presence and sealing Olivia and Sebastian inside a protective bubble. The Djinn’s presence felt heavy and sullen against his senses and did something weird to the air pressure in the room. He kept expecting his ears to pop.