auction, why was Claire here?” The idea of her in what amounted to an odd bin was ludicrous.
Louis-Cesare didn’t reply, being too busy digging a.22 out of my thigh. Before I could press him, someone came into view who drove the words right out of my head. “Shit!” I tried to rise, but Louis-Cesare held me down.
“What is wrong with you?” I just stared past his shoulder at the new arrival. Either I was hallucinating or the threat wasn’t as great as it seemed. I really hoped it was the latter, since I was in no shape to defend myself.
The newcomer knelt gracefully beside me. I tried not to stare, but I don’t think it worked. At least he was worth it, being quite simply the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Golden hair spilled over his shoulders and in the dim room it seemed to glow with an inward light. Eyes so dark green they were almost black provided a startling contrast, especially framed by gold-tipped lashes. But his face was the most surprising thing about him. Faint laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, and his smile revealed even white teeth. Despite the perfection of the features, the first word I’d have used to describe him would have been “pleasant,” something I’d never have thought to associate with a member of the Light Fey.
The Fey’s otherworldly looks did not keep him from being attacked by a growling gray blur, however. “What do we have here?” The light, musical voice sounded amused, and a softly shimmering hand plucked the creature out of the air. “Ah. An infant Duergar. Is it yours?” I just stared as he held the poor Duergar securely by the nape of its neck. It tried to scratch him, but the Fey’s arms were even longer than its own and kept it just out of reach. “But this cannot be the fearsome warrior,” the Fey said, his eyes widening as they took me in. “She is too young, and far too pretty.”
“She is five centuries old,” Louis-Cesare replied tersely.
“As I thought,” the Fey said. “A mere child.” He lifted my hand to his lips and if the dried blood on it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. “I believe you are called Dory, am I right? I am known as Caedmon, at least in your world.”
The Duergar seemed to object to Caedmon touching me, and started flailing its sticklike limbs in a frantic attempt to scratch his eyes out. The Fey glanced at it. “They can be very useful: resistant to poison and most magic, fierce in battle, extremely loyal, and many are skillful smiths. I once had a wondrous belt with a gold buckle—exquisite work—made by one of their renowned artisans. But if you’ll forgive the observation,” he added, “this is a poor specimen.”
I grabbed the snarling thing away from him, and it quieted after wrapping two spindly arms around my neck. “It’s only a baby,” I said defensively.
Caedmon nodded. “True, but without the proper training and the supervision of its people, it will never acquire their skills. And I think it unlikely to be welcomed among them. There appears to have been some mixing of bloodlines. It would almost certainly be viewed as an abomination. It would be a kindness to put it out of its misery.”
I hugged the Duergar and fought not to gag. After a bath, he’d kind of look like Animal from the Muppets. I always liked the Muppets. “I think I’ll call him Stinky.”
Louis-Cesare rolled his eyes, but Caedmon merely smiled. “How apt.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, doubting he’d come to buy anything. The Fey tend to be a bit more particular about their slaves.
He gave an elegant shrug. “It seems we have a common purpose: I, too, am looking for your friend.”
“The Fey Council sent him,” Louis-Cesare explained, shooting the newcomer a dark look. Apparently, they’d met before I woke up, and it didn’t look like Louis-Cesare was impressed.
“To investigate this unfortunate matter,” Caedmon added. “I am greatly concerned for your friend. She must be found, and the sooner the better. I thought I had discovered her whereabouts, but was too late.”
“Why are you interested in Claire?” She’d never mentioned a connection with the Fey. And here I thought I was the one with all the secrets.
“I greatly look forward to discussing that with you,” Caedmon said, “but”—his gaze swept my battered form—“perhaps when you have recovered?”
“Tell me now.” I put a hand on his arm, and