One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #3)(70)

He turned to leave. Orro blocked his way and thrust a paper box into his hands. “For your captain. I hope it will lessen the screaming and keep you from giving up your badge.”

Marais glanced at me.

“He’s been binge-watching Lethal Weapon movies,” I explained.

“Thank you,” Marais said and walked out.

“You think he’ll keep quiet?” Maud asked.

“He’s had a magic space car for several weeks now and, so far, hasn’t said anything,” I said.

“If not, I know where he lives,” Sean said.

I turned to him. “How?”

“I followed him home one night when we were hunting the dahaka.”

“That’s creepy.”

He shrugged.

“Sean, you’re not killing Officer Marais.”

Sean smiled a long wolf smile, reached out, and patted my hand.

“I’ll help you kill him,” Arland said.

“Sean Evans!” I put my hands on my hips.

“I’m trying to meditate,” Maud ground out. “Can you take your lover’s spat somewhere else?”

“Relax,” Sean told me. “I’m pulling your leg. Marais is a good guy. I’ll see him out. I’ve got an errand to run anyway.”

He went outside. I dropped the void field, felt him and Marais pass over the boundary, and pulled it up again.

Well, one of my guests was almost murdered and the inn was pretty much exposed. This wasn’t a good day so far.

Arland’s crest, which he’d put on the corner of the tub, came alive with red light. Arland reached over to check it. His eyes went wide. He swore, scrambled up, and fell all the way into the tub, splashing.

Oh no.

Arland surfaced, his long blond hair stuck to his head.

“What is it?” I asked.

“What?” Maud jumped to her feet.

“Is it war?” Helen’s eyes shone, catching the light.

“It’s worse.” Arland groaned. “My uncle is coming. Someone get me a robe. I have to get out of this tub.”

*

It was late afternoon and a delectable scent floated through the kitchen. Orro was in the throes of preparing dinner. Her Grace sat at the table, delicately sipping a Mello Yello. A large straw hat lay next to her. After Arland escaped the tub, she put on her hat and announced that she would be gardening. I kept an eye on her, and her gardening mostly consisted of snipping some small branches with garden shears and talking. I couldn’t see who she was talking to, but considering our situation, she was probably having discussions with the Draziri. She didn’t share anything she learned, and knowing her, asking about it would do no good.

Sean sat across from her, scrolling through a personal datapad, which I had no idea he owned. His errand took almost two hours. I knew exactly when he came back because he called to let me know he was about to enter, so I would let him in. He showed no signs of telling me what the errand was about. Wing still perched on the windowsill working on his whittling project.

On the wall, on an eight-foot-wide screen, Maud and Arland sparred in the Grand Ballroom, both in armor. Once he got out of the tub and donned a robe, Arland walked to his rooms where he collapsed on the bed and passed out. Maud checked on him to make sure he didn’t fall asleep facedown and suffocate. He slept like a log for five hours, then fifteen minutes ago, he came down in full armor, his hair brushed, his jaw shaved, looking like he was about to attend a parade, and announced that in half an hour his uncle would be arriving.

Maud asked him exactly how many stimulants he pumped into himself, and he told her enough to make her lower her sword in surrender. My sister did that narrow thing with her eyes that used to make me run yelling for Mom and asked him if he was willing to test his theory. Now they were beating on each other with practice weapons.

This was extremely unwise. I told him so. I told Maud so. My sister patted my shoulder and told me that he had to observe certain proprieties when he met his uncle. Meeting him while exhausted and naked in a tub of mint tea wouldn’t be appropriate and a little exercise would help the stimulants spread through his system faster.

Helen and the cat sat on the dais in the ballroom and watched the fight. The dais would be a perfect place for the Christmas tree.

“I want to celebrate Christmas,” I said.

“Isn’t it a little late for Christmas?” Caldenia asked.

“I know, but I still want to celebrate it. I want the tree and decorations. I want gifts and Christmas music. I don’t care how many Draziri are out there. They won’t take Christmas from me.”

“Yes, but we don’t have a suitable male,” Orro said. “And only one dog.”

I looked at him.

“What is this Christmas?” Wing asked.

Orro turned from the stove. “It’s the rite of passage during which the young males of the human species learn to display aggression and use weapons.”

Sean stopped what he was doing and looked at Orro.

“The young men go out in small packs,” Orro continued. “They brave the cold and come into conflict with other packs and they have to prove their dominance through physical combat. Their fathers teach them lessons in the proper use of swear words, and the young men have to undergo tests of endurance, like holding soap in their mouths and licking cold metal objects.”