“Viggo?”
She entered the bedroom with her heart in her throat. His eyes were closed, just like in her nightmares. His face was pale. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry.
Not him too.
She didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want the townhouse to herself, all the food in the kitchen, the empty rooms and empty halls. She’d put on an apron again and scrub every last crumb from the floor if it would bring her friends back.
She sank onto the bed. “Oh, Viggo. Oh no.”
With a jerk, he sucked in a breath and let out a rasping snore.
She reached for him so fast that she accidentally slapped him. His eyes shot open as he swatted away her hand. “What? Who?”
“Viggo!”
She collapsed on him. She didn’t mind the slouchy knit hat that scratched her skin or how he smelled like stale brandy. She squeezed him hard.
“Can’t . . . breathe . . .”
“Oh.”
She sat up, biting her lip, unable to hide her grin. “I thought you were dead!”
“I almost was. You nearly strangled me.”
The dog jumped on the bed, all nuzzling wet nose and big brown eyes. Viggo blinked a few times. “What,” he said, “is that? And where is everyone?”
Anouk felt the blood drain from her face. She looked away.
Slowly, in halting words, she told him what had happened. The siege of the château, the wooden soldiers, Tenpenny turned to stone, Cricket and Luc changed back into animals. And, of course, Hunter Black too.
To her surprise, when she told him the worst of it, he pulled her into a hug.
“They’re still alive,” he whispered fiercely in her ear. “Cricket and Luc, and maybe even Hunter Black. Which means we can turn them back somehow. It isn’t over, not while the two of us are still breathing.”
She didn’t know what to say. Viggo hadn’t shown much backbone in his pampered life, but these three days had changed him, just as they had changed her.
“How?” she asked.
He brushed at her lipstick-heart-stained cheek. “You’ll find a way. You have so far. And I’ll be there to cause convenient distractions when you need them most.”
She smiled, but it faded quickly. “There’s something else. I told the rest of the Goblins they could come here to tend to their wounded. They’re on their way now. Don’t be surprised if the house starts to sound like the inside of a discotheque and you find pet rats crawling around.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face and realized she was still covered in blood, sweat, ash, Tenpenny’s makeup, and even a few errant pieces of glitter. It really did stick to everything.
“I need a shower.”
“Use the Mada’s bathtub. This townhouse is yours now as much as it’s mine. Move your things from your room to the master bedroom, if you like. You’ve earned a proper en suite.”
The dog jumped off the bed when she stood and followed her into the hall. She found herself looking at the house with new eyes. Those cobwebs that had sprung up in the corners? Let them stay. The paw prints on the hardwood floor? Not her problem. The Goblins would make a mess of everything anyway, and let them. It was time things loosened up around the townhouse.
Once in her room, she freed her messy hair from its ponytail and ran her fingers through the tangles. Kicked off her boots one at a time. Peeled off her dirty tuxedo trousers and tossed them onto the floor. Shrugged off her Faustine jacket, brushing a finger over the place where its metallic threads had deflected magic.
And then she carried the jacket downstairs to the Mada’s bedroom.
The plush rug tickled her bare feet, and she wiggled her eight toes in the luxurious fibers. The dog plodded straight for the grand master bathroom.
She followed it in, sat on the edge of the tub, and turned on the hot water. Steam rose, easing her muscles. She peeled off the rest of her clothes and then sank into the tub, sucking in a breath at the almost-painful pleasure of the hot bath. Glass bottles of bath salts lined the edge of the tub.