“Where is the threat?” the basajaun said, looking around wildly. “I felt your blast through the mountain. It quails under your might.”
Niamh and Ulric caught up with him, eyes wide, faces long.
“It’s over,” I said, putting out my hands and glancing behind us down the hall. “Shh. It was a magical trick, basically. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“He crushed someone who barred his way,” Ulric said, breathing hard. “I don’t know if it was friend or foe, but one of the mages has one less person on the payroll.”
“He wasn’t barring the way,” Niamh said. “He was frozen in fear.”
“Well…it comes down to the same thing,” Ulric replied. “He wouldn’t move, and the basajaun doesn’t say please.”
“Jessie, ye might have a problem dealing with that wee hiccup come dinner,” Niamh said. “We weren’t exactly defending ourselves on that one. That was all our fault, so it was. That death is on us. Without internet, I can’t figure out whose camp he might be in, either.”
I sighed, hands limp at my sides.
“Definitely don’t worry about being a danger to our efforts, Brochan,” Austin said. Dark humor and bewilderment trickled through our link. I fell in step with him toward the supposed exit. “You’d be hard-pressed to even stand out amongst this crew.”
“I’m heading into dinner after insulting one mage and killing the staff member of another,” I murmured as Austin and I took the lead. The dim lighting was somewhat welcome. It felt like I was hiding from my problems in a strange way. “Dinner might just be a grudge match.”
“Let’s just hope that’s all it is.”
Seventeen
My bright red dress covered my shoulders but plunged deep down my neckline. The hem reached the floor, but a large slit worked up my leg to my upper thigh, with the loose fabric flowing around it. The material was somewhat stretchy, and the dress could be shed in a hurry. It had almost certainly been dreamed up by a straight male designer envisioning his perfect date.
I hadn’t wanted to wear any jewelry, because I didn’t know if I’d have to assume my gargoyle form, but Austin had strongly encouraged me to rethink that stance. In this crowd, wealth and prestige went hand in hand, and he thought I should look the part, as did Mr. Tom and the rest of them, so I gave in.
Austin had chosen a black tux that fit even better than his expensive suit earlier, if that were possible, with a red tie and pocket square that matched my dress and fit with the shifter color code. A watch encircled his wrist, different than the one he’d been given, and his shoes had been polished to a mirror shine.
We walked down the tunnel, my dress swishing around my legs, a sparkly clutch in my hand (courtesy of Mr. Tom, not Elliot Graves’s gift basket) and flat-soled ballerina slippers on my feet. I didn’t care who said what; I could not run in heels, and I was not wearing something I couldn’t fight in. Case closed.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look?” Austin asked as we sauntered down the hall, a little late but not hurrying.
Cyra followed behind us, without an invisibility potion, and the basajaun, Niamh, and the shifters were behind her, all under the protection of my invisibility spell. Sebastian and I had found this particular blend in one of Ivy House’s training books. Technically speaking, I was only allowed to bring Austin and my “poison-control specialist,” but the rest of them would stand invisibly by in case something went down.
“Only twice since you saw me in this,” I said, then bumped his side. “Have I told you how incredibly handsome you look?”
Humor leaked through the link. “You told me you wanted to rip into my clothes and suck on anything that popped out.”
I smiled, having decided to continue to let Austin handle my worry. It might kill me in the long run, but right now it felt like it was worth the risk. “Did I?”
“Maybe that’s just what I heard.”
I laughed as we passed through the entranceway. The woman who stepped out was the one who’d led us to our rooms yesterday.
“Miss Ironheart.” She bowed as we came to a stop. “I will lead you to dinner.”
“Wonderful.” I gave a graceful nod like royalty in the movies.
Once we were underway again, she glanced back to get my attention. “Miss, Mr. Graves would like to know why you didn’t use the ward spell provided. He thinks the tripwire spell beneath you.”
My perfectly penciled eyebrows climbed up my forehead. “I didn’t trust his spell.”
“Yes, miss. He thought you might say that. He’d like you to know that he only offered the spells to you—a concession because you are so new to the world of mages. He suggested that your tripwire spell would be too easy for most of the higher-powered mages to pull down. If you use his spell and put all your power behind it, Mr. Graves himself won’t be able to get in.”