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Lucien’s golden brown brow lifted a touch, but he looked back to Adam. “Her merry little band of fae, I am told, tore through my home.”
“It appears so,” said Adam.
“Looking for you?”
“That, and she wants the Golden Horn an Bás.”
Lucien walked past them in his gliding way, and they followed as he strolled down the dark hall to enter his dining room. He took in the destruction with a jaundiced eye. “I’ve heard of the horn, but some say it is one of the true myths.” With ease, he righted his pearl-inlaid chair and then went to pick up the others littered around his massive dining table. “Other stories insist that it is not an object, but a power, just as the GIM can leave their bodies.”
Adam guided Eliza to a chair and held it out for her. Rather macabre for them to be seated around a dining table, considering the bodies on the floor, but she took her seat.
“Mab thinks I know of its whereabouts.” Adam helped Lucien pick up other bits of overturned furniture around the table. “However, I am wondering if Mellan is leading her on a goose chase to occupy her while he plots his own little games.”
Lucien stopped in the act of righting a wine bottle. “That cunnard is here?”
“Unfortunately.” Adam glanced at Eliza. “He ordered Miss May to kill me.”
Lucien’s laugh was slow and full. “Oh very delightful.” He glanced at Eliza. “Biding your time, are you?”
“Perhaps I’ve decided to be rid of Adam’s cohorts first.” She smiled. “Starting with you.”
Undeterred, Lucien winked. “Eye sockets are quite vulnerable. I taught my lovely Mary Chase that when she was a mere GIM bebé.”
Eliza laughed, until Adam leaned a hip against the back of her chair, distracting her into abrupt silence.
“Mellan wants my sword,” Adam said.
“Doesn’t everyone,” Lucien muttered under his breath before brightening. “And your head, yes?”
Slightly pink in the cheeks, Adam answered curtly. “Yes. But I think what he really wants is a weapon to destroy his sister. With Mab gone, he’ll have total control over the throne.”
“Which means that he won’t stop until he’s taken the sword from you,” Eliza said.
Adam glanced down at her. The thick, black lashes rimming his eyes made the gold of his irises appear brighter. “Which means we must find a way to destroy them both.”
“Or pit them against each other,” Eliza countered, quite liking that idea.
His full lips curled in his familiar half-smile. “Or that.”
“Until you find a solution to that little problem,” said Lucien, “you must leave London. Go into hiding.”
“I’ve a mind of where to go,” Adam said. “We’ll be leaving within the hour.” He gave Eliza a small nod and then went to dispose of the bodies. It was a testament to his returning strength that he no longer limped and could easily heave a body over his shoulder.
Lucien, however, stayed behind. “I want to give you something.”
Eliza sat a bit straighter, the idea filling her with trepidation. The man was a known trickster. “Oh?”
Smiling a bit, he reached into his collar and pulled something over his head. Eliza could see him grasping the object, as if it were a necklace he wore, but the actual object wasn’t visible to the eye. With care, he came close, and the faint glimmer of a chain shone in his dark palm. “This is yours now.”
Intrigued, Eliza held out her hand, and he slid his gift into her palm. Shining like spider silk was a delicate cord, upon which rested an ornate pocket watch about the size of a silver dollar and seemingly made entirely of translucent crystal. “It is utterly beautiful.”
She’d never seen the like.
“It was made for you,” said Lucien with surprising gentleness.
Her head snapped up. “Me?” Her fingers curled around the watch, warmth infusing her hands. “But this is… It must have taken time to make this.” Years perhaps.
“I believe it took a century.” Lucien gave a lazy shrug. “But made for you, it was. Go on, ma chère. Put it on and let it rest against your heart where it belongs.”
Eliza was wary of doing so, but something about the watch called to her, and it was too great to ignore. She slipped the chain over her head. The instant the watch settled on her skin, it disappeared.
“Magic,” Lucien said with a smile. “And protection, so that no other might see it and be inspired to snatch it from your pretty neck.”
Unbidden, Eliza’s hand flew to her throat, and she touched the chain as if to assure herself that it was still there. “I do not understand why this is mine.”
Again Lucien shrugged. “I am not of a mind to explain at the moment.” He gave her a kind smile, however. “Wear it for me and keep it safe? You need not keep it when all of this is over, but for now, do an old Creole this one favor.”
“Well, I can hardly ignore the request of such an aged gentleman,” she muttered, unable to quell her smile.
“You are as wise as you are beautiful,” Lucien said with a jaunty bow. Then, with liquid grace, he flowed into the chair, set an elbow on the table, rested his chin in the palm of his hand, and proceeded to look her over in frank appraisal.
Amused, Eliza settled more comfortably in her seat and returned his stare. Lucien’s full mouth pulled into a small smile. Frilly lace cascaded over the grass-green satin of his sleeve, the color offsetting his brilliant jade eyes. He really was extraordinarily beautiful for a man. It was in the deep honey of his skin, the sculpted features, but also the effortless way he carried himself.
