“Right.”
Trina shut her eyes and forced all other thoughts away. Managed, with effort, to tune out the rustling and murmurs of the others at the table. She gripped Lanny’s hand hard, her grandmother’s a little gentler, and thought of Val. Pictured him standing in the snow, sword in his hand, triumphant and bitter all at once. Thought of him as Sasha had seen him, resplendent and princely…and helpful, telling Sasha how to save Nikita.
Val, she thought, we need your help.
The bell rang, just one little chime.
“My,” a voice – his voice – said, low and cultured, “but isn’t this flattering?”
Trina smiled, relief flooding her nerves, and opened her eyes to find Val standing on the far side of the table, behind Alexei, dressed in breeches and velvet, hands folded behind his back. He met Trina’s gaze and smiled, all teeth; winked.
Everyone else turned, looked. Dottie and Kolya actively gaped. Nikita scowled.
“Quite a gathering,” Val said mildly, corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying to smother his smile. “May I enquire as to the occasion?”
Everyone else seemed struck dumb, and Trina realized that, of those at the table, she was the only one who’d ever spoken to the prince before. So she took a deep breath and settled into the role of spokesperson with no small amount of trepidation.
“If you heard us just now, then I think you already know that we need your help,” she said.
His grin widened, sharp and delighted. “You need my help. Wonderful.”
“Hey,” she said, desperation closing around her lungs, voice sharpening. “Hey. This isn’t a game. I’m serious, okay?”
He grew comically grave, smile morphing into a frown. Hands still behind his back, he began to pace slowly around the table. “I see.”
Shit, she’d pushed too hard. She took a deep, steadying breath, and started over. “Val. I’m sorry, I – emotions are just a little high right now.”
“Hmm. I can imagine why. It seems your merry band is one man short.”
Jamie made a quiet, pained sound, and she saw Nikita releasing his hand, and Alexei’s on the other side – his grip had spasmed at mention of Sasha.
Val noticed, too, small smile curving his mouth as he continued to walk around the table. “What’s happened to your wolf?”
Nikita growled.
Val chuckled. “I’ve struck a nerve.”
Trina opened her mouth to reprimand him–
And Lanny beat her to the punch. “Yeah, great detective skills there, big guy. Here’s a thought: how ‘bout you stop being a raging asshole and just help us out or something? Sasha seemed to think you were actually capable of that – you know, helping – but he’s kind of a dumb, sweet kid. Me? All I’m seeing?” He made an up-and-down hand gesture that managed to incorporate Valerian’s figure from silken hair to spotless boots. “One-hundred percent asshole.”
For a moment, just a moment, Val’s expression flickered. Trina wondered if his projection had faltered, or if Lanny had, in turn, also struck a nerve. But his smile returned a second later, wider than ever, balanced on the knife-edge of sanity. “You’re the newborn.”
“Wow,” Lanny deadpanned. “You’d put Sherlock Holmes outta business.”
A muffled sound across the table drew her attention, and she realized her grandfather was stifling a laugh.
Jamie bit his lip, but not hard enough to fight off the grin that threatened.
Val turned his gaze to Trina. “Your lover is quite charming, Ekaterina.”
“Dude, lover?” Lanny said. “Who says that? Why you gotta make it all weird?”
Nikita, she noticed, had eased back down in his chair; his growl had tapered off. Good job, Lanny.
Alexei cleared his throat, and oh, this ought to be good: prince against prince. “Sasha was captured,” he said, tone dismissive, “and taken to the facility in Virginia, where you claim to be kept. Trina thinks you will help us find it. But I.” He sniffed. “Think you just want to play games with us.”
Val stalked behind Trina’s chair – she felt no breeze of movement; couldn’t sense a presence behind her – and moved to stand behind Dottie, grin gone feral, predatory, fangs on full display. He put one hand on the table – Dottie jumped a little in her seat – and leaned forward, hair sliding off his shoulders, swinging toward the candlelight. “And you,” he said, voice almost a purr. “Rasputin’s little fledgling bleeder. You would actually seek to help the wolf who killed your sire?”
Alexei kicked his chin up, expression unchanging…save the two spots of color coming up in his cheeks.
“He clawed the heart right out of his chest,” Val continued, free hand curling into a claw to demonstrate. “And fed it to his beloved Chekist – a Bolshevik pawn.”
Alexei’s jaw worked, eyes overbright.
“Because you told him to,” Trina snapped. “That’s enough, Val.”
He pulled back from the table, hands clasped together at his back again, shooting her a cool, displeased look. “Spoilsport.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Here’s the deal,” she said. “We’re coming to Virginia to get Sasha, but we need help finding the facility. If you help us, and can stop acting like a colossal douche for five minutes, we might even be able to bust you out.”
“Whoa!” three voices said at once.
“No, absolutely not,” Nikita said.
“So he can be an asshole in person?” Lanny said.
“A bad idea,” Alexei said.
Val shrugged, feigning boredom. “See? Your friends would never agree to that,” he told Trina.
She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward him. “I’m not talking about them right now. This is just you and me here.” She gestured between them.
Lanny tapped her shoulder and she ignored him.
“You helped Sasha once. Hell, twice,” she went on, and Val slowly came to a halt, cloak swinging behind him. “You helped him when he needed it most, and maybe you were just bored in your cage and looking for something to do, but I don’t think so. I think you know, better than anyone, how awful the Institute is, and you were doing what you could to keep them from hurting Sasha.”
His gaze fell to the table. His shoulders stiffened. “My bell.”
“It’s yours?” she asked, but wasn’t really surprised. She’d suspected as much.
Nikita’s brows jumped up to his hairline, though.
Val reached out like he meant to lean over the table and pick it up, but checked himself. He wasn’t really here. Pain flickered across his face, there and gone again, and then he wiped his features clean.
“Val,” Trina said, gentler this time. “Help us find Sasha – find both of you. And maybe we can help somehow.”
His eyes stayed locked on the bell, his voice flat. “You could never get me free. It’s impossible.”
“We could try.”
“The bell.”
“What?”
“I want the bell.” His gaze lifted, free of all mockery and cruelty this time. Plaintive. Weary. “Don’t try to…just. The bell. Please.”
She nodded. “Alright.”
He took a deep breath, and rolled his shoulders. Settled into a persona that she suspected – or at least hoped – was his real one, and not an over the top act. “You shouldn’t come. That would be a really stupid idea. You’d be captured immediately.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But we’ve gotta try.”
He sighed, long-suffering. “Your funeral. The baroness has been able to assist me with a little reconnaissance…”
23
The Ingraham Institute
Virginia
Val exhaled, shivering with the bone-deep cold that always came with dream-walking, and opened his eyes on the reality of his situation. The dim, damp stone confines of his prison, the weight of the silver cuffs on his wrists. He heard a low, steady sound, felt a vibration against his leg: the cat, curled up in a ball at his hip, purring contentedly and kneading the outside of his thigh.
He smiled, faintly, and reached to trail his fingers through her soft fur. Her purring intensified, eyes closing in bliss.