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“You said if you could have avoided the timing, you would have.”
“Ah. That.”
“Yes.” I waited. Might have poked him with my fork, if I’d had one.“That.”
“Your…involvement with the heart of the earth sent certain ripples through sorcerous society, engendering attention that was best brought into the open as soon as possible.” He kept his voice pitched very low. This seating arrangement worked quite well, however. With no one beside us to easily overhear, and the rest of the hall ringing with exuberant conversation and music, it made private dialogue much easier. “No doubt that’s also why Lord Puck is already here and General Falcon is on the way with the rest of his army.”
Oh, interesting. “So, there are other sorcerers here?” I didn’t recall any from the introductions—from when Ihadbeen paying attention.
“Not in person. They will have sent secret representatives.”
“Spies?” That kind of tickled me.
Rogue cocked his head, no doubt confused by the onslaught of fictional images behind the word, then nodded slightly. “Close enough.”
“What do we do now?”
“You will eat and relax. I will concentrate on the situation.”
“I thought we were supposed to be a team.”
“Don’t be concerned there. I fully intend to use every one of your many abilities to the utmost.” He gave me a salacious smile when I blushed at the image behindhiswords. “Follow along, if you like. Let me know what you notice.”
Rogue’s gaze ran over the crowd in idle curiosity, seeming to revel in being the generous host. I’d seen him play this role before and it had confused me, how little he seemed to care. This time, though, the electricity of his cautious attention sounded loud in my ears, like a radio tuned between stations. Falling silent, which provided the additional benefit of allowing me to eat at the most rapid rate possible, I piggybacked on his thoughts, following along as he dipped in to read different minds, sampling their conversations and the deeper motivations beneath them.
“Go back to the last one,” I murmured. “The woman talking about my dress.”
He slid me a dubious glance and I smiled, close-lipped, my mouth full of some kind of delicious gravied vegetables. Then tipped my head in the woman’s general direction.
His mind, so incisive and powerful in his confidence, arrowed straight back to the fae woman I’d pictured. Riding it felt like being on a horse at full gallop, exhilarating and impressive. He’d passed by the woman quickly and I absolutely understood why. She still hadn’t finished talking about my gown and speculating how many silk nymphs had died while weaving, sewing and affixing the tiny beads.
I really hoped none of that was true. I also made a mental note to add “silk nymphs” to my species list. Where I would put Rogue’s nonintelligent nonbeings bore some contemplation.
Showing a level of trust in my assessment that warmed me, Rogue stuck with the woman despite the inanity of her monologue. There. What I’d glimpsed before. Rogue caught it now, too—the black, ropy signature of Titania’s mind control. Many of the fae probably had some taint of it, if examined closely, but this one coiled around a different part of her mind, around the part that knew who she was. A spy secret even from herself.
“What was her name again?” I asked Rogue casually. “You know me—I just can’t keep all these strange names straight.”
“Sweetheart, you recall Lady Nimbus.”
“Oh, of course!” A pretty decently coded message there, given that he’d never called me “sweetheart” in all our acquaintance.
Of course, we couldn’t discuss much more than that. By mutual accord, Rogue continued dipping through thoughts while I kept an “ear” on the garrulous spy. The more I listened to her, the more I thought that even she didn’t know who she actually was. What did the spy novels call that—something like a sleeper? Seemed as though there had been movies like that, with some American kid growing up thinking he was all normal and then the trigger clicked in and he was suddenly a Russian spy. Always seemed unlikely to me, knowing how the brain worked, though the fiction had been entertaining.
With the addition of Titania’s potent magic, anything seemed possible.
Bored beyond belief by the woman’s chatter—she had to have spent thirty minutes on my shoes, which I’d barely noticed beyond them being black, sparkly and low-heeled enough for dancing—I almost missed it when she turned her attention to the diamond ring.
She was, it finally penetrated, cataloging every detail about my appearance. From counting the lilies on my necklace to the cascading curls of my hairdo. Embroidering the narrative with social details that made her conversation sound like a celebrity-watcher, she nevertheless had minutely described how I looked at this moment. Who for? Someone listening from afar in some way?
I could think of only one reason someone would want to know so much about how I appeared at this exact moment.
To create a doppelgänger.
Leaving me to watch our one known spy, Rogue had diverted his attention elsewhere, though he looked as much indolent lord of leisure as ever. I put my hand on his and he shook his head infinitesimally, his thoughts clearly across the room.
Dropping my hand to his thigh under the table, I squeezed harder, impatient to get his attention. Though, as long as we sat side by side, what could happen? It wasn’t as though someone could drag me away and replace me with some puppet of myself without him noticing. Still, he needed to know my suspicions ASAP.
Just then, a little ping trilled along that new sense, where the mass mind freshly brushed my awareness. The assembly fell silent, the musicians ending the tune as if on a preplanned flourish. Enviable timing on their part—terrible on mine.
