Claimed by Shadow (Cassandra Palmer 2)

After a long moment, Tomas pulled back to gaze into my half-closed eyes. He searched my expression, but whatever he was looking for, he didn’t s

eem to find. He kissed me anyway, and I arched into the sensual heat of his mouth, feeling somewhat bereft when he ended the contact too soon. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

I smoothed one of his fine, dark eyebrows with a finger. “What’s wrong?”

He took my face between his hands and gently kissed my forehead. “It’s all right, Cassie. It will be all right.”

“What will?” My afterglow was fast disappearing.

Tomas hesitated, then let his breath out in a sigh. “I can still feel the geis around you, like a cloud.” His jaw tightened. “It seems Mircea does not wish to release his claim.”

I shook my head. “There was a complication with the spell. Mircea couldn’t remove it, either.” I’d known this was a possibility, but it was still a crushing disappointment.

Tomas started to say something else, but the door suddenly swung inward and there was Françoise, hands on hips, looking impatient. She tossed a bundle of clothes at me. “It’s about time! It’s supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.”

I scrambled to my feet, shivering in air that felt cold against my flushed skin. “What?”

“Well, come on! Get dressed! The king wants an audience, and he doesn’t wait well. Piss him off, and none of us are getting out of here.”

“Françoise?” I was getting a very bad feeling about this. The accent was suddenly gone, and the look on her face didn’t remind me much of the French girl’s usual nervousness.

She smiled grimly. “Françoise isn’t home right now. Can I take a message?” Before I could come up with an answer to that, she grimaced and clutched the wall, her fingers clawed and white with strain, as if they were trying to dig into the stone. “Damn it! Not now, girl! Do you want to stay here forever?”

Tomas was looking back and forth between the two of us, but I could only shake my head at him. I had no idea what was wrong with her. “Um, Françoise,” I finally said, as she began to vibrate as if her finger were stuck in a socket. “Is there something we can . . . do for you?”

She suddenly stopped, stock-still, and stared at me, impatience flooding her features. “Yes! You can get dressed! How many times do I have to say it?”

I was cold without Tomas’ body heat, so I decided to humor her. The dress was too large, and stiff with embroidery, but the dark red wool was warm. I decided that my best bet was to concentrate on one problem at a time, and Françoise’s mental glitches weren’t even close to top of the list.

“Françoise, do you have friends here? People who would help you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“It’s Tomas. . . . If he leaves Faerie, he’ll be killed. He can’t go back, but he can’t stay in this place, waiting to be executed, either. Do you know someone who can hide him?”

“Cassie.” Tomas touched my elbow. “What are you doing?”

“I need to know that you’re safe. What if the king orders us deported back to MAGIC? If you return, they’ll kill you!” The Consul had offered me his life, but only in return for information I didn’t have. I hadn’t meant to place the geis on Mircea, and I certainly couldn’t lift it.

“And if you go before the king without me, he may blame you for my escape. I won’t endanger you further,” Tomas said flatly. I would have argued, but the set of his jaw told me it would be a waste of time. Besides, Françoise was looking apoplectic.

“You’re worried about a vampire . . . now, of all times?” She shook her head. “Cassie, he was a means to an end, that’s all. He served his purpose; let him look after himself. They’re pretty good at that, you know.”

Okay, that clinched it. There was more going on here than Françoise having a fit. “You want to tell me who you are right now? Because I never told Françoise my name. Not to mention that she only used to speak French.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

I sat on the bunk and looked at her mulishly. “I’m not going anywhere until I know who you are and what is going on.” I’d had about enough of flying by the seat of my pants. The past week had taught me the hard way that I sucked at it.

She threw up her hands in an oddly familiar gesture. Somewhere, I’d seen someone use that movement in the same way, but it eluded me. “I told you once you’d be either the best of us all or the very worst. Want to bet which way I’m leaning?”

It took a few seconds to sink in, and even when it did, I didn’t believe it. “Agnes? What . . . what the hell are you doing in there?”

“Existing,” she said bitterly. “Some afterlife.”

“But . . . but . . . I didn’t know you could even do possessions! The mages said—”

“Right. Like we tell them everything!” She put her hands back on her hips in another eerily familiar gesture. “The less the Circle knows about our abilities, the better! Did you really believe you could do it and I couldn’t?”