“You know what to do, right?” I said to her in a low voice.
She fluffed up her pink-streaked platinum hair with one hand. “You know it.” Her expression turned to pure confidence.
As I’d expected, there were a couple of Duergar standing near the stairway that led down to the courtyard below. They weren’t armed and plated to the teeth like King Periclase’s guards, but they carried weapons and wore the vigilant expressions of men who were on duty.
Lochlyn went ahead while I hung back. The men hadn’t seen me, so I pressed into a doorway to keep hidden.
They each stepped into Lochlyn’s path when she went for the stairs.
“For your protection, you must stay in your quarters until your armed escort arrives,” one of them said.
For protection, right. Periclase wanted to keep us contained.
Lochlyn stepped close to one of the men and placed her hand on his arm. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I just wanted to look for a place to practice. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I’m Lochlyn Tisdale, world-renowned vocalist. I’ve been working on a new song. Maybe I could sing a little and you could tell me what you think?”
Her voice was taking on the purr of the Cait Sidhe, and she’d maneuvered around so the men were facing her with their backs to me.
She began to sing, her voice reverberating beautifully down the stairwell. I waited for a particularly powerful sustained note, took a couple of hurried steps to the balcony rail, and launched myself over it. Landing in a crouch that finished with a roll on the soft turf below, I paused just long enough to get my bearings and then ran on quiet feet to a corridor leading deeper into the palace.
The jump from the second story might have broken the ankles of another Fae, but New Gargoyles had unnatural bone strength. Plus, being smaller than most of my race, I had less body weight for the impact. I could probably have jumped from the third floor and landed without injury.
I wasn’t dumb enough to gloat yet, though. I was in Unseelie territory and surely already had at least two spies tailing me. That was fine for the moment. I knew they wouldn’t tattle on me yet—they’d be too interested in figuring out why I was sneaking around. When I needed to lose them, I would.
Emmaline had indicated that one end of the tunnel to the stable quarters was near one of the blank blocks on the map she remembered as a kitchen.
I was in a service hallway, but the staff I passed were casting me curious looks. I walked like I owned the place, which usually worked well to prevent anyone from questioning me, but it was only a matter of time before someone decided to notify a higher-up or I ran into a guard. I needed to get away from all of these eyeballs.
The outer perimeter of the palace was designed as a sort of squared-off U. I was still in the bottom of the U, in the section that housed my quarters. I needed to get to the area at the end of the left prong of the U. The entire structure was many times the size of the New Gargoyle fortress, and being unused to Fae palaces, I was going to have to pay attention to keep from getting turned around. My best bet was to get outside as quickly as possible.
Taking a couple of abrupt turns, I was aiming to get to an external door when I caught the unmistakable crisp linen and fresh soap smell of laundry. A laundromat would most likely be situated on an exterior wall, due to the great volume of venting required. I sped up, following my nose and the low, rhythmic rumbles of washing machines and dryers.
My hand was inches from the laundromat door when it swung inward. I was looking straight at the broad chest of a Duergar in light armor.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
“Oh, shit, indeed,” he replied mildly.
When I tipped my head back, I locked gazes with a pair of the most remarkable eyes I’d ever seen. Blue rings demarcated the outer iris, bleeding into gold that transitioned into grass-green around the pupil.
I had just enough time to notice that his right forearm was encased in stone armor before I whirled around, ready to dart away.
But three Duergar barreled in from the right and two more from the left. I instinctively reached back for Mort. Wrong move. They obviously took it as a threat, and a second later I was on the ground writhing as one of the guards shot me with a magi-zapper.
It seemed to go on forever, like lightning burning up my spine.
When it finally stopped, all I could do was lie there gasping like a beached fish. I watched helplessly as the one with the stone armor forearm peeled me off the floor and slung me over his shoulder like the living rag doll that I was. Still paralyzed from the zap, I tried to force the gears of my brain to grind into motion and tune into what the guards were saying.
When I caught King Periclase’s and Maxen’s names, I knew I was royally screwed.
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.