The Dire King (Jackaby #4)(33)

Morwen shrugged, her features rapidly aging to settle back into her usual visage. “Not impressed, perhaps—but I have got you nervous, now, haven’t I? You should be. My father has already sent for me.” Morwen smiled wickedly.

“Really?” I said. “He seemed much more interested in picking up some new accessories than in rescuing his daughter. Did you hear he has a shiny new hat to go with his spear?”

“The Dire Crown is not a hat,” said Morwen. “It is a manifestation of his power and glory.”

“Do you know what I think?” I replied. “I think that now that he has the whole set, he doesn’t need you at all. It was the shield that really tied the ensemble together, don’t you think?”

Morwen sneered. “Your lies are pitiful. He doesn’t have the—” She caught herself.

“Doesn’t have the shield yet?” I finished for her. “No, I didn’t think so, but it’s nice to have that confirmed. I do appreciate your being so candid today.”

“You don’t even know what you don’t know,” she hissed. “I will kill you last, I think. You’d better tell all your little friends to sleep with one eye open.”

“Like ducks,” I said, casually.

Morwen faltered. “What?”

“Ducks sleep with one eye open. Douglas does, anyway, so I guess I don’t need to tell him to. Mr. Jackaby doesn’t tend to sleep much at all, and when he does it’s with his third eye open whether he likes it or not, so that’s him covered as well. Jenny—well, you know very well that you couldn’t harm Jenny even if she ever did sleep. Which reminds me,” I added conversationally, “do you remember the last time you threatened everyone? And then she hit you?”

Morwen glowered at me.

“With a bathtub?” I added, helpfully. “Through a wall?”

“It rings a bell,” Morwen growled icily.

“It certainly rang yours,” Jenny added.

“Get your kicks in while you can,” Morwen said. And then she did something thoroughly unnerving. She smiled. It was the absolute confidence of it. The only other person I had ever seen who could maintain such unflappable calm while chained up as a prisoner was Mr. Jackaby. On Morwen, the attitude was far more ominous. “I will be out of here by morning,” she added.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself for someone who’s been peeing in a hole in the dirt all week,” said Jenny.

“Aw. Don’t get all sentimental just because you’re going to miss me, Jennybean,” Morwen taunted. “I might just have to take a . . . souvenir to remember you all by. How about your new friend here? She’s cute, isn’t she?” Morwen’s strawberry blond curls rippled and darkened, and suddenly she was looking up at us with Alina’s face. “The council could make good use of you, little girl.”

Alina staggered back a step, shaken, and the apple rolled off the plate and into the corner.

“Or how about the other one.” The nixie turned her eyes on me. “That dog-boy who keeps trotting after you? What’s he called again?” She wavered, and suddenly Charlie was sitting before us. “Mees Roook,” she mocked. The face was spot on, but her voice talents were lacking something when it came to impersonating men. “Don’t let the beeg bad neexie take mee!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I said evenly. “And you’re not taking anyone with you. Now, you’re going to tell us—”

The plate clattered suddenly on the ground, flaky pastry sliding to one side, and Alina rushed up the stairs and back out into the light.

“Alina, wait,” I called.

“Something I said?” Morwen grinned wickedly.

I glanced up at the doorway and back at Morwen. “We’ll finish this later.”

We found Alina in the garden, slumped at the foot of the weeping willow. The centaurs had edged away toward the side of the house, and the garden was peaceful and quiet.

Jenny hovered beside her. “Alina,” she said, soothingly. “You can’t let Morwen get to you. She likes to wriggle under your skin until you’re not yourself anymore.”

“Why?” Alina shook her head. “I don’t understand!”

“It’s just the way she is. She—”

“Not the nixie. I don’t care about the nixie. Why is my brother part of this?” She looked up at me, her eyes more angry than afraid. “She said it—Kazimir goes trotting after you. Why?”

“She was only being spiteful,” I said. “Charlie and I help each other. Nobody is trotting after anyone.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. This is your fault, isn’t it?”

“My fault?”

“Why don’t you leave him be? Kazimir is not like you! He is not one of you! He deserves better than . . . than . . . than this!” She threw up her hands. “Our father was Suveran—do you even know what that means? It means Kazimir is heir to the House of Caine! He is born to rule our people, not to play lapdog to some human cur.”

I ground my teeth. “Charlie chose this! Charlie chose me. If you really love your brother, maybe you should stop hating the world that he has chosen to be a part of. What do you have against humans, anyway? You’re half human yourself!”