“Trust Peyton.” As I buttered my toast and spread jam on it, there was a sudden whisper on the slipstream, and my wolf let out a low rumble, not a howl, not pain, but a slow stream of yipping noises that sounded almost joyful. I stared down at my stomach.

Grieve! It was Grieve and he wasn’t in pain—and it was daylight. I pressed my hand to my stomach and focused, but all I could feel was the joyous dancing of my wolf. Before anyone could notice what I was doing, I stopped and reached for the orange juice, trying to remain low-key.

Leo came stomping in, looking red in the face from the exertion. He nodded when he saw me, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck and sliding out of his jacket.

“We’re having the winter from hell,” he said, panting.

“Of course we are. Look who’s bringing it in.” I motioned toward an empty chair. “You should sit down. You don’t look well.”

He fidgeted, tugging at his collar as he coughed. “I don’t feel so good. I’m really sweating, and my throat hurts.” As he winced, Rhia crossed to his side.

“Open your mouth,” she said. He did and she peered down his throat. “As I thought. You’ve got a nasty swollen throat. The beginnings of strep throat or laryngitis at best. Get out of your clothes and up to bed.”

“Geoffrey expects me to take care of his errands today—” Leo tried to push himself to his feet, but he was so unsteady that he almost fell. Rhia caught him on one side, Kaylin from the other.

“You aren’t going anywhere. What’s so important that it can’t wait?”

“I’ve got a list here . . .” He waved his notebook around, but then the fever took him and he dropped it and slumped back in the chair, mumbling.

I picked up his Day-Timer and flipped it open. A number of errands, yes, but nothing that couldn’t be taken care of by any one of us.

“We can do this, dude. You get your butt up to bed. Rhiannon, Kaylin, make sure he’s under the covers. I’m going to see Geoffrey tonight; I’ll just take his dry cleaning with me.”

Besides, I thought, it would give me a chance to learn a bit more about the Regent. There weren’t any exclusively secret operations listed, but some of the errands would perhaps shed some light on just who I was dealing with.

As Rhia and Kaylin struggled to get Leo up the stairs, I went back to my toast and jam, wondering what I was going to find out—if anything. But in the back of my mind, Lannan’s e-mail played itself over and over, and I hated the fact that I believed every word he’d written.

Chapter 20

The first few items were easy, and rather boring. I stopped at Cheri’s Alterations & Dry Cleaning and picked up Geoffrey’s clothing, marveling at the rampant textures and colors of the Regent’s smoking jackets. There were ten. He must change clothes twice a day, I thought, to go through this many.

As I pulled out of the mini-mall’s parking lot, Favonis purred and I cruised along the streets, watching passersby. It might have been any other year, any holiday shopping rush, except people walked in groups, and cars were no longer single-occupant. Carpooling had suddenly become popular in New Forest.

I turned up the music—“Napalm Love” by Air pounded out of the speakers and I thought about Lannan’s note. There were no demands in it, no orders to pay him back for his advice. For once, I had the feeling he might be stepping outside his comfort zone and doing something altruistic.

Don’t believe it. He has an agenda: keeping you alive. He wants you, and he can’t have you if Geoffrey wins you over.

I sighed. Ulean, sometimes you’re a killjoy. But yeah, I hear what you’re saying.

As I pulled into a parking lot at the next stop, I glanced up at the store. Leo was supposed to pick up a package for Geoffrey here—that was the only notation, so I guessed that whatever it was, was ready. I slid out of the car and pushed through the door to the little shop.

The store turned out to be an art shop, and the package I was to pick up was a framed print. The cashier motioned for me to have a seat at one of the desks.

“I’ll just get your print and you can approve or disapprove the framing job. One moment, please.” She disappeared into the back.

Nervous now—what if I approved something that was fucked up? Geoffrey would be furious, and Leo would be in trouble.

Just go through with it. There is something important here for you to learn, though I don’t know what it is. The energy on the slipstream is crackling around this shop.

I nodded, sliding into the chair to which the woman had gestured. As I waited, I glanced around the shop. The walls were filled with frames—all sorts from inexpensive plastic to what looked like ornate gold-leaf embossed etched frames. There was a huge table next to the cash register with a variety of measuring tools on it and what looked like several projects in the middle of completion.

After a moment, the woman returned with a bag. She withdrew a painting that was about ten by ten inches, not including the frame, and placed it in front of me.

“I hope you and your employer will like this. It was a joy to work with the Regent, and we’re grateful that he trusted our shop to get the job done.” She paused, staring at the painting, then at me. “You were wearing a lovely costume.”

“What?” I took the painting and stared at it. Sure enough, there I was—or rather . . . someone who looked a lot like me, in a gossamer gown. And next to the woman stood Geoffrey, wearing what looked like a costume from long ago. His arms were around the woman’s waist, embracing her, and they were both laughing. I could see his fangs and—holy crap! I recognized the woman now. She was fuller, not so thin, and not quite so . . . stretched . . . but it was definitely her. Myst—but without the cerulean cast to her skin.

The more I looked at the painting, the more I realized that it had to have been painted before Myst had been turned. Or rather . . . I touched the canvas lightly. This was a print. A picture of a painting. The original was probably in a vault somewhere.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “Is there a balance due?”

She shook her head. “We charged your account. Or rather, the Regent’s account. Please, if there’s any problem, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

I took the receipt, slid the painting back into the wrapper, then slowly returned to Favonis. After I slid into the front seat, I took another look at the print. Sure enough, that had to be Myst—before she was turned. She might have been Unseelie at that point, but she looked far more human . . . far more humane . . . than she did now. And the way Geoffrey was holding her waist . . . almost like a lover.

A thought occurred to me and I tried to brush it away, but it kept coming back. What if Geoffrey had tried to turn her with her permission? What if he hadn’t captured the Unseelie, but the rumor had gotten started that he had? What if they’d been lovers and she’d agreed to let him turn her, but something had gone horribly wrong?

As I started up the car, I gave one last glance to the print before tucking it back into the sack. Myst and I looked alike, all right. And Geoffrey had offered to sire me. I wasn’t sure what was up, but whatever it was, I had an uneasy feeling about it.

None of the other errands revealed anything more worth noting, other than the fact that Geoffrey’s servants or stable apparently liked chocolate mint—I ended up picking up five pounds of chocolate mints at one store. When I was finished, I thought about dropping in at the diner and giving Anadey a scare, but the fleeting chuckle I got was immediately replaced by a sense of sadness and anger. We needed her, and she had turned her back on us. On me.

I spotted a drive-through a few blocks away and pulled in. Since I wasn’t sure if their French fry fryer was dedicated or whether they fried fish fillets in it, I just ordered a strawberry shake and a cookie. As I scarfed down my sugar fix, I thought about what Geoffrey would say tonight when I delivered the picture. Was it safe to mention what I’d noticed? It began to occur to me that I might have made a serious mistake—Leo would have been the one picking it up and Leo had never . . . wait a minute.

Leo had seen Myst. He knew what she looked like, and Geoffrey had to be aware of it. Which meant, if Leo picked up the picture, he’d have to have dropped it off. And surely he’d recognize Myst in it and know that . . .

Shit. I slammed my shake into the cup holder. Leo constantly defended Geoffrey. And that alone meant he knew more than he let on. I wondered if Geoffrey confided in him, but that seemed out of character. Then again, Leo had worked for the vampire for quite some time. Chances were Geoffrey forgot he was in the room during some conversations. Yummanii and magic-born were a lot like furniture to the vampires.

Glancing at the print again, I pressed my lips together. There was something I wasn’t getting—parts I couldn’t put together. The equation didn’t add up, and I was afraid that by the time I fully understood, it would be too late.

I finished off the shake and, unable to figure out anything more than I had, pulled out of the lot and headed home. Now I just had to decide whether to confront Leo or lie low. But I was sure as hell going to show Kaylin the print—and Peyton. My cousin was still in love with Leo. And I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

At least I didn’t have to worry about Leo insisting on going out—he was out cold, a jolt of Heather’s cold medicine down his throat. Kaylin and Peyton weren’t around, so I helped Luna clean the kitchen and made sure she was doing okay before heading upstairs to change for Geoffrey’s.

“How is Leo doing?” I asked, peeking in on him. Rhiannon was just gathering up a bowl and a washcloth. She motioned me out of the room.

“He’s got a horrible sore throat, but I don’t think it’s strep. I got his fever down to a manageable level, and now he needs sleep. A lot of sleep. He won’t be getting out of bed for a few days, though. Can you tell Geoffrey tonight . . .” She paused, staring at me. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Or . . . well . . . I don’t know yet. I need some time to figure it out.”

“So many secrets lately. Anadey and Peyton’s father and now this . . .” Rhia shook her head. “I am half-sick of shadows . . .”

“. . . Said the Lady of Shalott.” I smiled softly. When we were teens and I visited, we’d read poetry to each other and that had been one of our favorites.

“We haven’t done anything fun like that in years.” She gazed at me, her doe eyes softening. “I missed you so much while you were gone. I hated Krystal for taking you away. Then, when you phoned to tell us she’d died, I secretly dreamed you’d come back. I fantasized about it—daydreamed that you would come back and marry Grieve, and I’d marry Cha—I’d marry someone . . . and we’d settle down and raise babies and be the two old witches of the village when we grew old.”

“Chatter? You started to say Chatter.” I cocked my head. “Rhia . . . please, promise me you won’t settle. That you won’t tie yourself to someone you aren’t sure about.”

She bit her lip, staring at the floor. “I know . . . I know . . . but what is love? Love brings pain and sorrow. Isn’t it better to marry someone you consider a good friend rather than getting your heart broken?”

I pulled her close, kissing her cheek. “Oh, Rhiannon . . . whether they’re friends or lovers or both, we’ll always have broken hearts. When they reject us, if they love us and then leave . . . if we live with them a hundred years loving them, and then they die—our hearts are bound to break. Why cut yourself off from the wonderful part just to avoid the sad?”

She shivered. “What if . . . what if I throw away something good to find I’m chasing an illusion? What if I discover that I’ve built something up in my mind? Can I hurt him, because I just maybe think I might be in love with someone else?”

“You’re walking on a tightrope. Please promise you’ll talk to Chatter? Find out how he feels before you say anything to Leo?”

She glanced at the closed door behind us. “That feels so wrong. Like I’m going behind his back.”

I bit my lip, not sure what to say. “Just promise me you’ll think long and hard before you actually get married. Breaking an engagement is a lot easier than five years down the line when you’re filing for divorce.”

Rhiannon let out a low sigh. “Yeah, I know. I’ll think about it.” She shrugged. “Come on, let’s get you dolled up.”

As we entered my bedroom and I closed the door, Rhiannon sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bed, resting her elbows on her knees. She played with the hem of my blanket as I slipped out of my clothes and into my bathrobe.

“I’ll be back in a few—I just need a quick rinse off.” I headed into the shower and, dropping my bathrobe, called out to Rhiannon. “Can you find me something nice to wear? I’m not sure what, but it’s not a party, as far as I know, although he said formal dress.”

When I finished soaping up and rinsing off, I climbed out of the shower to find her holding up a gorgeous cobalt blue sleeveless dress. Low cut, it was made of a simple jersey, with gathered shoulders and a woven black belt. I stared at it, struck by its beauty. The color was rich—so rich it was hard to look at.

“Where did you find that? I know full well I don’t own anything like that.”

She grinned. “I raided Heather’s back closet. This never fit her—it was too short and too . . . well . . . a couple sizes too big. But it looks like it’s made for you. I think she bought it for you on your last trip home, but you didn’t stay long enough for her to give it to you. Not after you and Grieve . . .”