“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.
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.