at some stupid ball, ask him all about his demonic plans, and he’ll tell me … just like that. That’s what you think?” Donna shook her head. “Somehow I don’t think it’s going to work.”
Miranda shrugged. “It’s worth a try. You may have more influence with him than you want to believe.”
“Why? Because he’s taken a shine to me?”
“Perhaps,” her mentor replied.
“You’re telling me that the Order of the Crow is willingly sending me to hang out with a demon king? You’re quite happy to use me as bait?” Not that Donna was surprised, she just wanted to make sure she knew exactly where she stood.
Miranda tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. A vaguely guilty expression crossed her face. “There will be other alchemists present, keeping watch over you. We’re treating it as a diplomatic event—possibly even an opportunity to divert a war. At the very least, we can gather important information.”
Robert chose that moment to enter the library, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Miranda’s right,” he said. “All of the alchemists received a similar messenger.”
He looked more well-groomed tonight than usual, al-though for Robert that wasn’t saying much considering his general Goth appearance. He was tall and willowy, his half-Chinese heritage evident in his dark eyes and glossy black hair, which tonight was tied back into a partial ponytail—all the better to show off his cobalt-blue highlights. He actually looked like he might have been out for the evening before getting called to the meeting upstairs, and Donna remembered that it had been his night off. Maybe Robert had had a date with a cute guy—he totally deserved some fun, given how close to death he’d come just weeks ago.
Donna immediately latched onto a hope she hadn’t dared to believe might come true this soon. “Quentin and my mom—will they be at this ball?”
“Well, the Order of the Dragon has been invited to send representatives,” Robert replied. “As have the other Orders.”
“How are they going to get here in time for tomorrow night?” Donna had visions of them using her wildly untested abilities to somehow transport people, and her stomach tightened.
Miranda smiled grimly. “Demian says that arrangements for that will be made. I don’t doubt that our colleagues will be there.”
Donna scowled at the invitation. “Part of me doesn’t want to go, but the other part … well, she wants to kick Demian’s ass.”
Robert flashed her a quick grin. “He’d probably enjoy that.”
“What are you talking about?” Donna snapped, annoyed at the flush of warmth in her cheeks.
He ignored her, then turned to Miranda. “Don’t you think you should get some rest? It’s already gone midnight and there will be a lot of work to do tomorrow.”
Miranda checked her watch. “There’s no time for me to sleep yet. I have to start getting things organized. Not the least of which is finding a ball gown for you, Donna.”
Donna blanched. “A ball gown?”
“Yes. Never fear, it’s all under control.” Miranda turned on her heel.
Donna watched the petite woman stride from the room before turning on the tall alchemist standing in front of her. A slow smile was spreading across Robert’s face. Despite how irritating he could be, Donna couldn’t help liking him.
“So, what did you mean?” she asked, knowing she’d probably regret asking. “About Demian enjoying it if I kicked his ass?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? He fancies you.”
Fancies? “Who even says that?”
“Doesn’t change the fact.”
“It’s not a fact. It’s your theory. A very bad one.”
“Well, it’s a theory that Miranda clearly shares. I didn’t hear you arguing with her about it when she said something about how the Demon King has taken a shine to you.”
Donna crossed her arms. “That’s because she’s currently my boss. Sort of. And Miranda’s choice of words was far less annoying.”
“I realize how annoying it must be that I’m right all the time, but I told you as much when you first opened the Gate to Hell,” Robert replied. “The look in Demian’s eyes when he spoke to you was pretty weird. Creepy, even. Like you were a commodity rather than a person.”
Donna knew something about that look, but not from Robert’s description of the demon. She remembered what her mother had written in her journal—about Simon Gaunt’s expression when he noticed the young Donna’s growing power. She shivered.
“We’re not just talking about some guy here, Robert. He’s a demon. The Demon King. Do you honestly think that’s what this is about?” Donna picked up the invitation