was unreadable.
"Are all the cherubs like the one I met?"
"Yes."
I bumped my hand against his a couple of times, but he didn't take the hint, so I ended up sliding my hand into his, smiling to myself when his fingers tightened around mine. "You might have warned me, you know."
"Consider yourself warned: Stay away from the cherubs. They're a heartless group."
"They certainly don't fit into the idealized vision of angelic," I said, pondering that point for a few minutes while we walked along the narrow path that ran alongside a tall stone wall. "You said this isn't heaven, but I rather expected the people who hang out here to be more or less good. If the cherubs are such bad news, why are they allowed to stay?"
Theo stood aside as I passed through a narrow wooden doorway. Ahead of us, a building dominated the area. Tall, with high, stained-glass Gothic windows, and pointy spires that seemed to stretch up to the sky, the building looked more like a cathedral than a library. "You have such a black-and-white view of the world, Portia. You're going to have to adjust that to include shades of grey."
"Meaning, everyone who resides in the Court is not good? I suppose it follows that everyone in Abaddon isn't evil?"
"As you have had proof, having visited it just a few hours ago." Theo marched forward, to the marble steps that led to wide double doors.
"Touché." It was cool inside the library, the sunlight beaming through the windows not doing much to raise the temperature. As I gazed around at shelves of books that seemed to be at least fifteen feet tall, I wondered if the climate was artificially controlled. Some of the books that lay open on pedestals appeared to be old, and no doubt fragile. There was a hushed atmosphere of subdued reverence that seemed to seep into my bones, leaving me with a slightly itchy feeling, and the propensity to whisper. "Whereabouts is the mare?"
"This way." Theo's voice was quieter than normal, making me feel a bit better about my own reaction. He led me to the left, to an area that would have been a small chapel if this had been a cathedral. We wound our way through the maze of books until we came upon a door almost hidden by a rolling ladder that allowed patrons access to the upper shelves.
Theo stopped before the door, fixing me with a dark look. "Although the sovereign does not enforce strict formality in the Court, mares are usually treated with a bit more circumstance than the rest of the officials. They are referred to as 'your grace' in conversation."
"I have no intention of being rude," I assured him. "Credit me with having some amount of tact."
"You will need more than tact," he answered rather ominously, knocking firmly on the door.
A voice bid us to enter. Theo stood aside for me to go in first. I will admit that I was beginning to have second thoughts about the wisdom of tackling someone so high up in the Court organization, but a reminder of what I'd cost Theo had me walking into the mare's office with my head high, my back stiff, and my determination immovable.
A young woman in her early twenties looked up from a laptop. She looked like any other successful businesswoman, from expensively dark brown hair, to a smart, jade green suit with matching shoes. "You are Portia Harding, yes?"
"Yes, I am." Theo, standing beside me, brushed his hand against mine. "Er...your grace."
"Good." The mare stood up, raising her voice. "Portia Harding, you are hereby charged with the murder of the virtue named Hope. Bailiff! Take the prisoner into custody!"
Chapter 13
"Murder? Hope was murdered? When?" I asked, backing away from the muscular young woman who bowled in through the door. "I had no idea where she went, let alone what happened to her, but I certainly haven't killed her!"
Theo, what's going on here? Murder?
I don't know, but the mare must be handled carefully. This is a serious situation.
You ain't just whistlin' 'Dixie'!
"I fear there has been a misunderstanding about my client's situation, your grace," Theo said suavely, positioning himself between me and the bailiff.
The mare stared at Theo for a moment, thawing visibly when he smiled at her.
Oh, that's subtle, I thought at him.
Subtle doesn't win the fair maiden.
I sent him thoughts of what I'd like to do to him at that very moment.
You are a bloodthirsty little thing, aren't you? You can stop mentally