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I clapped a hand over his mouth, because I wasn’t sure if the soundproofing worked if you were already inside the suite, and Rhea might still be out there. “Hush!” I hissed. “Or do you want everybody to find out how easily you run around, spying on everyone?”
“Hn bmph mph anmph!”
“What?”
He removed the hand. “I don’t spy on anyone!”
He was still yelling, but he was whisper yelling, so I guessed that was an improvement.
“Anyone but me,” I pointed out.
“I wasn’t spying! You jump around like a manic chicken; no one can get a word in—”
“That’s not true!”
“It’s entirely true! You’re never here, and when you are, you’re closeted away somewhere—”
“I am not!” I thought about it. “All right, maybe I am, but when I’m not, I’m mobbed. I have to go to the bathroom to get some peace and quiet anymore, and when I do, I still don’t. I have the right to some privacy!”
“Yes, you do,” said the man who’d just ruined it. “But your court also needs to see you occasionally. Do you even know all their names yet?”
“I was with them just this morning,” I pointed out.
“Yes, guarding them. But not interacting with them. I’d be willing to bet that more of them are afraid of you than of Marco—”
“That’s absurd!”
“—who at least gets down on all fours and plays with them, looking like some kind of huge bear—”
“First a gorilla, and now a bear. You really have a death wish, don’t you?”
“—whereas you do what, exactly? When was the last time you spent quality time with them? Have you ever?”
He stood there, hands on skinny hips, looking at me accusingly.
I stared back, completely flat-footed. Where had this come from? And what the hell was his problem? My court was fine. No, my court was better than fine! And where did Augustine, who wasn’t even part of it, get the right to tell me off? I was about to return the favor, but he didn’t give me a chance.
“Your own court doesn’t even know you yet,” he said reproachfully. “They speak of you in hushed whispers or in awed little voices—or maybe fearful ones—”
“They’re not afraid of me!”
“How would you know? I spend more time with them than you do!”
“I have a war to fight!”
A long-fingered hand clapped over my mouth. “Careful,” he said nastily. “They’ll hear you.”
I pulled it off and glared at him. “Is that why you’re here? To lecture me about my court?”
“No, I told you why I’m here. But apparently everyone else is too in awe of the great demigoddess to point out that her court still doesn’t have a Pythia. You’d think you were afraid of them, or maybe it’s just disdain. Like all those snooty women who buy my clothes and spend hours debating with me—as if they know anything—about button types, while the nannies raise the kids—hey!” He grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”
“Out! I don’t need to listen to this!”
“Ah, so it’s fear, then.”
I rounded on him, unexpectedly furious. “You know exactly nothing about me! You don’t get to come in here—”
“And who else is going to?” he demanded. “Meek little Rhea, who worships the ground you walk on? The damned vampires, who don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t cause the roof to cave in? Hildegarde, who might actually tell you the truth about some things, but who grew up in a time when children were best seen and not heard?”
