“They won’t have a lot of opportunities for unsupervised contact,” I said. “They will be housed in separate sets of rooms with individual access to the common dining room and ballroom. If they attempt to get at each other, they will be strongly discouraged.”
“Exactly how are you planning on doing that?” Jack asked. “We really need to discuss the security measures with your team.”
Really? “I’m an innkeeper. I don’t require a security team.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re planning on keeping them apart all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
Gaston rubbed his chin.
“You do realize they are professional soldiers,” Jack said.
“Yes.”
Jack looked at his brother. George smiled.
Jack wouldn’t stop. I recognized his type. He might not have been part of the Sun Horde, but he was a shape-shifter, and he was likely a cat. Cats trusted in themselves and chafed at any authority. Sean had at least given me the benefit of the doubt, but Jack wouldn’t. Not until I swatted him on the nose.
“Are you a professional soldier?” I asked.
“I was for a while,” Jack said.
Aha. “And I assume you’re fast and deadly?”
Jack furrowed his eyebrows. “Sure.”
I glanced at Gaston. “Are you also a professional soldier?
He grinned. “I’m more of a gentleman of adventure.”
George laughed under his breath.
“I save these two from themselves,” Gaston continued. “Occasionally I do a bit of skulduggery.”
What? “Skulduggery?”
“Scale a ten-foot wall, jump out of the shadows, break a diplomat’s neck, plant false documents on his body, and prevent an international incident type of thing to keep the war from breaking out,” Gaston said helpfully. “Dreadful stuff, but quite necessary.”
That was a really specific description of skullduggery. I smiled at the two of them. “Since you’re both men of action, this should be an easy challenge. Take my broom away from me.”
The two men measured the distance between me and them.
Jack glanced at his brother. “Are you going to say anything?”
George shook his head. “No, I’m just going to let you walk into this noose. You’re doing a fine job.”
Jack shrugged.
Gaston leaped into the air. It was an incredibly powerful jump. He shot off the floor as if he’d been fired out of a cannon, flying through the air and straight for me. The inn’s wall split. Thick, flexible roots, smooth with wood grain but agile like whips, exploded from the wall, jerking Gaston out of the air and wrapping him in a cocoon.
Jack dashed underneath Gaston. The inn’s tendrils snapped at him, but he dodged, gliding out of their reach as if his joints were liquid. It was a beautiful thing to watch. I let him get within three feet of me and tapped the broom on the floor. The broom’s handle split, fracturing. Brilliant electric blue shot out and hit Jack’s skin. He convulsed and crashed down like a log.
George threw something. The hand movement was so fast it was a blur. The tendrils shot out to block and a four-inch dart fell harmlessly to the floor.
The floor of the inn parted, and Jack sank into it up to his neck. Around me the room stretched slightly, waiting. The broom reformed in my hand. I flicked my fingers and the floor surged up, twisting with elastic flexibility to raise Jack to my eye level. Above him Gaston hung, suspended upside down. Only his face was visible.
The gray-eyed man unhinged his massive jaws. “Well. This is a bit of a predicament.”
I faced the far wall and pushed with my magic. The wood disintegrated. A vast, shallow sea, pale orange, stretched before us under amethyst sky. In the distance jagged peaks tore through the water. The wind bathed me, bringing with it the scent of salt and algae. Yes, this would do nicely.
Ripples troubled the surface. An enormous triangular fin with long spikes carved the water like a knife, speeding toward us.
“The inn is my domain,” I said. “Here, I am supreme. If you keep making yourself into a nuisance, I’ll banish you to that ocean and leave you in there overnight.”
The fin was barely twenty-five yards away.
Twenty.
Fifteen. A glistening blue hide rose out of the water.
The wall rebuilt itself just before an enormous mouth studded with dagger teeth thrust out of the ocean.
Caldenia descended the stairs. “Ooh. Bondage so early in the morning, dear?”
If only. “May I present Caldenia ka ret Magren,” I said. “Her Grace is a permanent guest of the inn.”
George got off the couch and executed a flawless bow with a flourish. I let the tendrils unravel around Gaston, and he dropped to the floor softly and bowed as well.
“Are you going to let me go?” Jack asked quietly.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“So Gaston gets let go, but I don’t?”
“I like him more than I like you.”
Jack looked at me and grinned. “Fair enough. I’ve got what I asked for.”
I dissolved the floor and let Jack go make his introductions.
George drifted over to me. “I didn’t know you can open dimensional gates.”
“I can’t, but Gertrude Hunt can.”
A cough made me turn. Orro stood in the doorway of the small dining room.
“I think breakfast is ready,” I announced.
The three men, Caldenia, and I walked into the dining room and sat around the heavy old table. Tendrils slipped from the wall, gently sliding a plate in place in front of me. I blinked. An egg, cooked paper-thin like a crepe and folded into an elaborate purse, was filled with small chips of potatoes fried to golden perfection, crumbled sausage, and tiny pieces of mushrooms. A thin green stalk sprouted from the center of the mix, bearing delicate pink flowers carved from a strawberry. A small basket woven of narrow strips of bacon sat next to the egg purse, holding a sunny-side up egg sprinkled with spices and next to it a flower of cucumber petals blooming with a center of creamed egg yolk that had been piped onto it with a surgical precision. It was so pretty I didn’t know whether to eat it or to frame it. The aroma alone made my mouth water.
“Eggs three ways!” Orro announced and retreated into the kitchen.
Eggs three ways was unbelievably delicious. Watching Caldenia sample them was an experience in itself. Her Grace daintily tried the filling of the egg purse, swiped the tines of her fork across the piped egg yolk, picked up the tiny bacon basket and delicately slurped the entire thing into her mouth. Sharp carnivore teeth flashed, bacon crunched, and she dabbed her lips with a napkin.
My seat let me glimpse a narrow slice of the kitchen from the doorway. Inside it, Orro paused at the island, a kitchen towel in his hand.
Her Grace put down her napkin. “Exquisite.”
All of Orro’s needles stood on end. For a second he looked like one of those neon-colored spikey balls you can buy in the toy section of Target. A moment later his needles lowered back into place and he continued to wipe down the island.
Lunch was served at twelve and featured something called “simple crème fraiche chicken and vegetables,” which turned out to be roasted chicken with crispy skin and meat so tender it fell apart under the pressure of my fork, served with fresh spinach, citrus, almonds and some sort of heavenly dressing. I couldn’t possibly keep Orro. He was sure to be too expensive, but I’d be a fool not to enjoy it while it lasted.
By six thirty everything was ready and I waited on the back porch, wearing my robe. The designated point of entry was in the field behind my orchard, out of the way of the front road, and the brush and trees would block most of the flashy side effects of the guests’ arrival. I had gently encouraged six apples trees to move a few yards to the side, so we had a clear path through the orchard, and from where I stood I could see the field, its grass freshly mowed. The sky was overcast, promising an early, gloomy evening followed by a dreary night. A cold breeze came, swirling through the trees.