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He proffered it to me. It was the house phone. I needed to go get mine from my car, assuming it wasn’t buried under half a ton of rubble, that was.
A blond eyebrow raised. “Want to tell me about it?”
It took me a second to realize that he didn’t mean the phone.
“I have this theory,” I told him, while gathering up my mess, “that maybe we had more than one attacker here the other night.”
“But of course.”
I looked up.
“No one can hold more than one or perhaps two manlikans at once,” he informed me. “For each one, then, there was probably a fey warrior behind it. First creating and then directing it.”
“Okay, but I was talking about the person running things. The mastermind. Which, if we’re talking Earth magic, makes it look like Efridis or Aeslinn was behind the first attack.”
“Why just the first? The king’s sister is a well-known vargr.”
“Which is why I doubt she’d attack that way.”
Both eyebrows went up. “That is something to think about.”
“Yes, but Claire doesn’t want to think about it.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Can’t say I blame her.”
Olfun took the tray, which won him a raised brow in return.
“I am not allowed to help?” he asked.
“I was under the impression that that sort of thing was beneath your dignity.”
“Some might think so,” he agreed gravely. “I think you saved our lord’s grandson and heir, almost on your own, a few nights ago. While we took more than three minutes to wake up and assist.” His lips twisted. “Perhaps you should carry the sword and I wear the apron.”
“I don’t wear an apron. Ruins the tough-chick look.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re serious,” I realized.
“Of course. It is a serious matter.”
“You’re upset about three minutes? You guys saved the day!”
But Olfun shook his head. “Our performance was no less than shameful. I think it is why Reiðarr challenged you. He wished to regain some of his honor.” He smiled slightly. “You were kind not to make him rue it.”
It had looked like he was ruing it plenty to me, but I decided to emulate dear old Dad for once,
and not say so. “He didn’t lose any honor,” I said instead. “Neither did you. Most people would be proud of that response time—”
“Would you be?”
“That’s different. I was already here.”
“As we should have been. We should have been sleeping in the halls with our weapons beside us. Instead, we were treating this as a holiday, a chance to enjoy some of the human world without a mission to distract us. And all the while, we knew the risks.”
“You mean Efridis.”
“Not just Queen Efridis. There are many at court who would be happy enough had the attack succeeded. Particularly now, with the Ice Prince separating himself from some of his father’s . . . eccentricities. Fear of the gods’ return was the main obstacle to many people supporting his claim to the combined throne. Now that they have reason to believe he would not follow in his father’s footsteps, fewer have cause to prefer a child with mixed blood to one of pure, highborn heritage. Particularly when times are so troubled, and the child is young and untested, while Prince Æsubrand is a renowned warrior.”
I scowled. “Yeah. That’s why Claire left court. Someone killed Aiden’s nurse and tried to kill him, so she took him and ran.”
