Page 70 of Winterveil

“This is an undercover mission,” Nadiya replied. Her gaze remained on Giselle for only a moment before shifting to Deckard. “Right? Innocuousness is what makes the perfect clandestine officer, doesn’t it? The little gray man.”

“Indeed.” Deckard’s eyes flickered. “I’ll show you to your lodgings.”

Deckard led them out of the marketplace and up another cobblestoned road. A large, sprawling building appeared over the crest of the hill, with a wraparound deck and several stone chimneys, all wafting smoke. The windows were aglow. It looked like—

“A . . . ski lodge?” Giselle frowned.

Julian was admittedly surprised that she recognized one. There couldn’t be much of a tourism industry in the backwoods of Appalachia.

“Precisely,” Deckard said. “A little direction for your cover story.”

They continued up the path toward the lodge. The building, like everything else, seemed more than a fabricated set. Had they not entered through the stadium door, Julian would have believed Traumstadt was real.

The four of them stamped the snow off their shoes before Deckard opened the door and ushered them inside.

Within was a great room with an enormous stone fireplace, surrounded by rather lumpy-looking couches. The hearth was lit and the crackling sound it emitted was undeniably pleasant. It was no resort in Aspen, but there was something charmingly rustic about it. Twin staircases ringed the fireplace and led to a second-story mezzanine.

Deckard directed them up the stairs and paused in front of the first door. “The girls’ room,” he said. “Here are your keys.” He distributed small brass keys to Klaudia, Nadiya, and Giselle.

“A bit regressive, isn’t it?” Julian asked. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Klaudia when he said it, but admittedly, his mind was on her. The idea of sleeping and dressing in such close proximity made his heart thump.

“I would call it prudent,” said Deckard, which made Julian wonder how much, exactly, had been entered into his Valeran file. He was beginning to suspect that certain tabloid articles had been included. Nadiya gave him a reproachful look.

The room to the left was apparently his. Deckard handed Julian a brass key.

He turned the lock and pushed the door open, stepping into a filmy darkness. Julian searched for a light switch on the wall. Before he could find it, a lamp flicked on, and the room was bathed in a soft yellow glow.

A figure stood before him, partially blocking the lamplight. Julian stumbled back.

“Who are you?” His voice was hoarse with shock.

The figure stepped forward. He was a boy around Julian’s age, with a slight, almost gaunt figure. He had sallow skin that Julian imagined might be a light golden-brown under different circumstances, but as it was he looked deprived of sunlight. The dark circles under his eyes added to the sense of fragility.

By far the boy’s most distinctive feature was his hair. It was a silvery white and hung in a glossy sheet to the hollow of his throat. It gave him an ethereal, almost ghostly quality. For a moment, Julian considered whether the boy was a hologram, too.

Then the boy took another step toward him, close enough that Julian could sense his solidity, and he was both relieved and unnerved. The boy was flesh and blood.

Wordlessly, the boy stuck out his hand, and Julian caught the flash of a silver cuff around his wrist. The engraving on it read CRISPIN.

After a moment’s hesitation, Julian offered his hand back.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

“I’m your companion,” the boy said. His voice was airy and rasping, as if these were the first words he’d spoken in some time. “Nice to meet you . . . Julian.”

Immediately Julian withdrew his hand. “You work with Deckard?”

“For him.”

“Well, tell Deckard I don’t need a babysitter,” Julian said. “There’s not exactly much debauchery to get up to here.”

“I’m not a babysitter,” Crispin said quietly. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help me with what? Dressing and eating well-balanced meals?” Clearly Deckard’s opinion of him was even lower than Julian had imagined.

“No. With the mission,” said Crispin. “I’m here in case you have any questions.”

“I have a lot of questions, actually,” Julian said icily.