Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)(111)

“Unlike Anthony.” Her voice suddenly switched to a more businesslike tone. “Louis-Cesare must be found. Once Anthony learns he is lost, our case will be as well.”

“He will be found.”

“In time? We must produce him tonight, after the challenges.”

“We are doing what we can. You know the difficulty.”

“I also know the solution. He has shown an interest in this one. He went to her aid last night.”

“He went to collect his mistress—”

“Do not take me for a fool, Mircea.” The voice cracked like a whip. “I do not care that Louis-Cesare indulges his perversions, only that he fights for me while he does it. We cannot find him; therefore he must find us. If he has a bond with this creature, her pain will bring him faster than any other lure we have.”

“They do not have a bond. Therefore such a tactic would gain you nothing and be a waste of a resource,” Mircea said. His voice was calm, but the hand on my arm pressed hard enough to hurt. “Remember Tomas.”

There was no reply to that, but the room suddenly became noticeably chillier.

My eyes managed to focus on the consul, who was standing a few yards away. There were plenty of seats around, but she was probably afraid to crush her little pets. I watched the swarm of tiny snakes she wore in lieu of clothes writhe across her form from neck to feet, a glimmering, gleaming mass in constant motion. The first time I’d ever seen that trick, I’d thought it pretty cool.

I wasn’t feeling so much like that now.

“Top pocket,” I gasped, a little desperately. I really, really didn’t want to feel those things writhing inside me again. I thought once more and I might just go crazy permanently.

Three sets of eyes focused on me, but it was Mircea’s hand that slipped inside my jacket. Dark eyes ran swiftly over the short letter Claire had given me. His face did not change, but the body holding me relaxed slightly.

“I am afraid we shall have to find another method, Lady,” he said, handing the letter over.

Marlowe took it from him. “What is it?”

“A letter from a Blarestri royal princess, appointing Dorina her envoy to act for her in all matters concerning the stone. Any action taken against her representative will be considered to have been taken against the princess herself.”

The consul’s expression did not change, but her snakes writhed a little faster. “Find him!” she snapped, and strode from the room. She didn’t use the door; the fireplace was apparently an illusion, too, because she passed right through it. I was starting to wonder if anything in this house of horrors was real.

Except the bodies.

“What was the point of that?” Mircea demanded, as soon as she’d left.

“The consul is becoming . . . concerned . . . that the problem with Louis-Cesare may backfire on her,” Marlowe said carefully.

“Explain.”

“Should she lose him to Anthony, it will be a defeat on her own soil in front of her colleagues. Such a loss could damage the prestige she needs to lead in the war. And if she wins . . .” He took a deep breath he didn’t need. “She knows we need to be strong at this juncture, but she fears that some of us may be becoming too much so.”

Mircea had been wiping my face with his pocket handkerchief, but at that, he looked up. “She is suspicious of my loyalty?”

“Ambition has blinded better men.”

“And more foolish ones. I have no plans to challenge her authority.”

“Perhaps not now. But with the Pythia under your control—”

“She is under the Senate’s control.” He paused. “More or less.”

“She is under your control, Mircea,” Marlowe insisted. “Her loyalty is to you. She is suspicious of the consul—”

“With reason. That stunt with Tomas was ill-conceived. I warned her as much at the time.”

“You suggested using him!”

“Using, not abusing, Kit. I never suggested butchering the man! That backfired, as anyone who knows Cassie’s temperament should have expected.”

“But we do not know it. You do. And you were strong enough before. Now, you have control of the Pythia as well as Louis-Cesare’s loyalty through his attachment to Dorina—”

“And how did she find out about that? What did you tell her, Kit?”

“Only what she asked. She’d already heard as much from Anthony. He thinks it’s the best joke this century.”

“Anthony is not you! You could have denied it.”

“I could have betrayed my duty, you mean, in order to save this—”

“Careful.”

“Mircea, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m beginning to think that damned geis addled your brain!”

“Or cleared it.”

I lay utterly still, content to let them believe I was more or less out of it. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Between the general oppressiveness of the house and the consul’s idea of a good time, I was a little under the weather. The room kept shimmying like a belly dancer every time I opened my eyes, so I mostly didn’t.

I didn’t understand a lot of the conversation, but the basic idea came across. Mircea was growing powerful enough that the consul was starting to worry about him. And given the way she handled problems, I didn’t think that was too healthy.