Marco didn’t answer. That was bad, since informing me of my various failings is Marco’s favorite way of releasing tension. It was when he got quiet that you had to worry, so I was.

And that was before I was lugged through a living room filled to the brim with strangers.

Female strangers. All of whom looked like they were attending a Victorian-era tea party. Some appeared to be as young as two or three, others maybe ten years older, although it was hard to tell with the bows in their hair and the old-fashioned, infantilizing outfits they had on and—

And crap.

No wonder Marco wasn’t happy.

“What are you doing?” One of the girls demanded, jumping off the sofa and hurrying up. “What is happening?”

She was a cute brunette, probably the oldest of the lot, and her name was Rhea. She was a member of my court, like the rest of them, although not one of the ones who wanted me dead. At least I didn’t think so, although her expression was pretty fierce.

But then, she wasn’t looking at me.

“Your mistress is back,” Marco told her grimly.

“What are you doing with her?” she demanded. “Is she injured?”

“Not yet.”

Judging by Rhea’s expression, she didn’t like that answer. It was almost funny, since people did not scowl at six-foot-five vampires with vicious tempers. Sane people, anyway. But Rhea had proven to have weird ideas about who was scary, and she actually seemed more intimidated by me than by my suite full of fanged monsters.

“Put her down!” she demanded, not that it did any good.

Marco just continued wading through the sea of girls, all of whom were now staring at me, some with their mouths hanging open.

So much for making a good first impression.

Not that it mattered. Next to my predecessor, the perfect and all-knowing Agnes, I already looked . . . well, I mostly tried not to think about how I looked. I sighed and let my head droop onto Marco’s brawny forearm.

Might as well get the lack-of-dignity thing out of the way early.

But Rhea didn’t seem to think so. She followed us across the living room, through the lounge, and into the hall that led to the bedrooms. Which was harder to navigate than usual because it was piled high with folded cots. And then she kept on following us into my room, which had pallets all over the floor and pillows and blankets slopped around because, yeah.

My court needed somewhere to sleep, didn’t they?

It was one of those things I probably should have thought about before running off with Rosier. But then, I hadn’t expected to be saddled with a troupe of young girls I’d never met and didn’t know what to do with. And time had been of the essence.

And thanks to his utter, utter ineptitude, it still was.

“About . . . the guy . . . I came in with?” I said breathlessly, catching myself at the last moment.

I didn’t get an acknowledgement. I did get tossed onto the bed, though, instead of dropped on the floor, so I supposed that was something. I landed facedown on a nice brocade bedspread that was going to need changing after this, groaned, and flopped over. And watched as a pissed-off vampire tried to figure out how to remove my boots.

Considering that it had taken me fifteen minutes to get the damned things on in the first place, and that was before the laces got waterlogged, I didn’t give much for his chances. But I should have known better. Marco had skills. And a sharp pocketknife, which I guessed was okay since it wasn’t like I was going back to the 1880s again anyway.

“I need him. Alive,” I clarified, because around here, you never knew.

Marco still didn’t say anything.

I glanced at Rhea. She was standing at the ready, looking as if she was contemplating beaning an ancient vampire over the head with something, and wasn’t that all I needed? “Can you give us a minute?” I asked.

She curtsied and bit her lip. But she didn’t go anywhere. One of my boots did, though, squelching off and releasing a small tide of filthy water onto the carpet.

“It’s okay,” I told her as Marco tackled the other one. “He’s . . . We need to have a chat.”

“No, we needed to have a chat yesterday,” Marco said, his voice low and venomous.

Tags: Karen Chance Cassandra Palmer Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net