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“Ah, that one,” Freydis said. “She’s earned a bit of a reputation over the years.”
“Oh?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this for free, but I adore dancing, I rarely get the chance, and my boss likes you,” Freydis said.
I stopped to glance over at Vadderung in his chair. Once more he was seated across from Ferrovax- and the two were regarding each other steadily.
“He seems like the kind of guy who would tell you to say something like that when he asked you to pass on some information to me,” I said.
Her green eyes flashed with appreciation. “Oh. You just went from a three to a six, seidermadr. I like men who look past the surface of things. And you can dance.”
“Lucky me,” I said. “So?”
“So if you get me drunk enough, and no one else more interesting turns up, I could show you all kinds of interesting scars. Bring your woman and we can skip some of the drinking.”
That made my cheeks feel warm. “Um. I meant Mavra,” I said.
“Just that we last spotted her movements about a year ago,” Freydis said, unperturbed at the change of subject. “If you were counting on her never coming back, you might need to go over your numbers again.”
“Reunion week around here,” I complained.
“Oh, poor boy,” Freydis said, thrusting out her lower lip mockingly. “Live as long as I have and you’ll realize that none of us ever really escapes the past. It just keeps coming back to haunt you.”
“I haven’t seen much to suggest otherwise,” I admitted. The piece ended and we segued from a waltz into a fox-trot, which again she picked up almost immediately, and during one of the turns I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and the temperature of the room seemed to drop about three degrees. “There. Is that her?”
“Cold, pretty, and scary?” Freydis asked. “Yes, that’s her. Should we do it now?”
“Wait for her to get settled,” I said.
Her green eyes tracked past my shoulder, watching intently. “She’s talking to the big grendelkin.”
“He’s not a grendelkin,” I muttered.
She arched a brow at me.
“You’ll have to trust me. The Forest People are different than the grendelkin.”
“Big, hairy, strong, stinky … If it walks like a Grendel and talks like a—”
“You and I,” I said, meeting the Valkyrie’s eyes, “are about to have a serious argument.”
Freydis’s eyes flared with defiance—but she looked away first.
“That’s River Shoulders. He’s okay. Tell your boss I said that.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Because as long as he’s using a messenger, I will, too,” I said. “Not sure why he’s keeping his distance, but I’ll respect it. Could be he doesn’t want to look too chummy with me here. Point is, tell him that River Shoulders isn’t a grendelkin.”
“He’s chatty enough to be one,” Freydis growled. The next turn let me see River Shoulders speaking earnestly—how else?—to Mab. Mab was listening to him with intense focus. How else? I saw her nod, speak a short phrase, and turn to continue toward her chair in her appointed camp. Molly was walking a step behind her and to her right. She paused to put a hand on River’s massive arm and say something that made him let out a rumbling chuckle. She beamed up at him, patted his arm again, and kept pace with Mab.
“There,” Freydis said a moment later as the turn took Mab out of my sight. “She’s sitting.”
I leaned down close to Freydis’s ear and said, “Well. I guess we should do it, then.”
“Nothing personal, tiger,” she murmured back into mine.
Then Freydis drew back, her face drawn up in an expression of outrage, and smacked me.
Okay.
Maybe that was understating it.
The Valkyrie, who could potentially have lifted an entire automobile and chucked it a short distance, dealt me an open-hand blow to the cheekbone with the full power of her body. It was like taking a right cross from a professional slugger. If I hadn’t rolled with it, she’d have knocked my startled ass completely unconscious.
The script called for me to grope her a bit as she pulled away from me, exactly the kind of behavior everyone expected from the Winter Knight, but my brains were so scrambled I could barely manage to make it look like a socially awkward hug she was avoiding. She stalked over to the White Court’s camp, straight up to Lara. The redhead looked fantastic and drew the attention of the room as she did it. She reported to Lara in low tones, thrusting a fingertip at me along the way, her expression going from outrage to strain to visible distress.
Lara glared daggers at me from across the floor, sliding a supportive arm around Freydis’s shoulders. She guided the other woman across the room, pausing at the same doorway where I’d gotten some quiet space last night. She spoke to one of the caterers and then stepped through with Freydis.
The room had gone quiet except for the musicians, and everyone was looking at me.
“Sir Knight,” came Mab’s voice, very clearly and very calmly.
That got everyone’s attention, though they mostly tried not to be obvious about it. Even Vadderung and Ferrovax broke their casual staring contest to regard what else was happening in the room.
I could have sworn Mab’s gown was deep purple when she entered the hall a moment ago, but when I looked back up at her seat, the cloth had turned as dark as midnight, and streaks of black were flowing through her silver-white hair.
We were about ten seconds into this heist and Mab was already halfway into her full form as judge, jury, and executioner of Winter. Perfect.
I looked aside and found myself facing my grandfather. Ebenezar gave me a look that was as panicked as I’d ever seen him give. I wanted to reassure him, somehow, to throw a wink at him. But I didn’t want anyone to see that gesture, not with what was coming up. So instead, I gave him a small shrug, turned back to Mab, and bowed my head. Then I hurried over to her.
“Sir Knight,” Mab said, her voice lowered to an intimate volume. “You have annoyed a valuable ally. Explain yourself.”
“You don’t want me to,” I replied in a similar tone. “Look, I need to ask you for something I never really expected to want from you.”
Mab arched a brow. “And that is?”
“Your trust,” I said. “That I’m acting on your behalf.”
Mab’s eyes widened slightly.
“I need your assistance,” I said. “Look at the door Lara just left through, and then at me like you want to murder me.”
“For that, I shall hardly need to invoke a dramatic muse,” Mab murmured. But she thrust her chin toward the door Lara had just departed through and then turned her wide dark eyes back to mine. “This is a public pantomime. You play for high stakes.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do not bring me embarrassment with your failure.”
“No, my queen,” I said, loud enough for the room to hear. I stepped back from her and bowed deeply at the waist, before putting on an expression that I assumed looked angry and chagrined, and hurrying after Lara.
“What good is it going to do us to get into the gym?” Lara asked. “I’ve seen it. There’s no way down to the holding cell from there.”
