detail because of the war. And Director Bishop is apparently the only agent available in the entirety of House von Hasenberg, which seems like a massive security risk,” Bianca said with a pointed glare at the man in question.
Ian didn’t react. He merely watched Bianca with a predatory stillness that reminded me of Loch.
“If you’re worried about Vincent,” I said, using Loch’s cover identity, “then you shouldn’t be. He’s indisposed and won’t be joining us this evening.”
“I know,” Ian said.
I blinked at him in surprise. He must’ve seen Loch storm out because while the private suites weren’t under surveillance, the rest of the House definitely was.
Ian continued, “I am responsible for both of you. Normally you each would have an agent, but as I explained to Lady Bianca, we are short-staffed this evening. It will make my job easier if you stick together.”
Something was going on. House von Hasenberg had never been short-staffed in its history. Bianca caught my eye and nodded very slightly. She sensed it, too. But who was pulling which strings and why?
“Did Albrecht assign you to us?” I asked bluntly. That would at least narrow the players in this little drama.
Ian smiled, a barely there twitch of his lips, as if laughing at an inside joke. “No, Lord von Hasenberg does not concern himself with security details.” His expression turned serious. “I mean you no harm, Lady Ada. If you trust nothing else, trust that.”
“It is not myself that I am worried about right now,” I said. “I’ve been swimming in the shark-infested waters of the Consortium ballrooms since I was a girl.”
Ian inclined his head. He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “He can take care of himself,” he said.
I knew it was true, but with Loch missing, the tension that had been riding me for the past week ratcheted higher. We were approaching a breaking point and I couldn’t see the cliff coming.
“I hope you are right,” I said. I held out an elbow to Bianca. “Shall we, my dear? We don’t want to keep Lady Rockhurst waiting.”
She linked her arm with mine and we headed toward the nearest transport pickup. “Do you have a plan?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said. I didn’t elaborate with Ian stalking along behind us.
“Are you armed?” she asked.
“Of course. You?”
She nodded. She also wore her bracelet tonight. It seemed we both expected trouble.
The transport dropped us off in front of House Rockhurst’s public entrance. The gleaming building shared the metal and glass architecture of all of House Rockhurst’s buildings. A constant stream of people flowed through the entryway, but we bypassed the line and used the entrance reserved for High House guests. A guard scanned our identity chips then waved us through.
The gigantic ballroom’s soaring ceiling dripped with crystal chandeliers, and a wall of glass showcased the beautifully lit balcony and garden. Several panels had been moved aside to allow guests access to the cooler outside air.
Inside, the crush of human bodies threatened to overwhelm the air-conditioning system. Bianca clicked on a personal cooling field and the temperature around us dropped by a few crucial degrees. Ian trailed along behind us, a silent shadow.
“Lady Rockhurst first?” Bianca asked. Even standing beside me she had to raise her voice to be heard over the din.
I nodded and we joined the flow of people moving deeper into the ballroom. Finding Lady Rockhurst wasn’t hard—she was in the middle of an adoring group of people. Speaking to her was another matter.
I left Bianca and Ian on the edge of the crowd. “Move,” I said to the person in front of me in my most aristocratic tone. The man turned around to glare, then recognized who I was. He nearly tripped over himself to get out of my way. Smart man.
I used the same tactic over and over until I stood in front of Lady Rockhurst herself. She was coldly beautiful, with the signature blond hair and blue eyes the House was known for. She had to be over sixty but she could still easily pass for a woman in her forties. She wore a vibrant green dress that hugged her figure. Lord Rockhurst stood beside her, chatting with a business associate.
I dipped into a shallow curtsey. “Lady Rockhurst,” I said. “Thank you for hosting tonight’s party. I hope your family is well.”
If looks could kill, I would be a dead woman. “You have some nerve, girl,” she hissed at me.
I smiled serenely at her. “Indeed. In fact, I would like to