Allegiance(96)

I smiled and winked, though it did nothing to dislodge the stiff rod of tension rammed along my spine. “I deserved it. Well … maybe not the whole dresser-launching part.” Amelie’s lip curved into a pout. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. But in her defense, if she’d kept something like that from me, I’d be angry enough to launch furniture too.

“And you decided to play darts with fancy daggers as well?” Bishop added, pointing at the protruding ivory-and-diamond handle of my Christmas present. In an instant, he was across the room and yanking it out. “What’s this from?”

“It’s mine!” Suddenly desperate to reclaim my gift from Caden, I stalked over, my palm out in front of me. “Hand it over.”

He gave me that wide grin of his as he tossed the dagger into the air, letting it spin before catching it in his fingertips by the blade. “You sure you should have a weapon? You’re bound to hurt yourself with it.”

I snorted. You have no idea how right you are. “Yes, I’m sure. I need it.”

With newfound caution, he carefully gave it to me handle first, his fingertips grazing mine. I sucked in a gasp, my eyes widening as I peered up at him, watching, waiting. Nothing happened. No shriveling, no collapsing, nothing. My breaths started to pass a little easier.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, averting my gaze to Amelie and Julian. They were a thousand miles away, communicating through glimpses and caresses and whispers. If only I could get Caden to listen long enough for me to explain. “Come on.” My feet slid backward, heading out. I need to find Caden. I need to explain.

“See you two … much later?” Bishop grinned at Julian, oblivious to the near tragedy—how close I had come to being a dresser pancake, Amelie a shriveled corpse, Julian dismembered—now only something the three of us would know. And Wraith.

I followed Bishop and Wraith down the stairs to the foyer, my movements sluggish, my spirit hollow. I barely registered the delicate sound of holiday harps or the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air. Neither did anything to fill the void in my heart. Caden thought I’d betrayed him. I did betray him. I lied to him, allowed his imagination to torment him over something that wasn’t true.

We trailed along the empty, cold halls. A feeling of … absence lingered in the air. Mortimer and Viggo had to be in New York by now, along with Lilly and her crowd. Caden was … I don’t know where. I prayed he was by the tree, cooling off. I don’t know what I expected for Christmas morning in Nathan’s chateau with a bunch of vampires, werewolves, and a wraith, but I’d had higher hopes than this.

Bishop and I walked side by side in silence to the glass room, our arms briefly nudging but otherwise without contact, much to my relief. When we stepped in, when I saw that Caden wasn’t here, my heart plummeted further. Mage was there, though, looking out over a blizzard. “Have you seen Caden?” I blurted. With a furtive glance at Bishop and a check of my tone, I added, “He was worried about Amelie. I wanted to tell him that everything’s fine.”

Mage whipped around to face me, surprise touching her brow. Studying me with arms crossed over her chest, her black eyes narrowed. “Evangeline … do you feel different today?”

That infamous question. It meant something monumental had changed. “No, I don’t,” I answered truthfully. “Well, I feel crappy after all that port last night. Why?”

She shook her head, her gaze traveling down the lengths of my limbs. “I can see magic on you. It’s weak but it’s there.”

I help up my arms in front of me. Still long, still skinny, one still stitched up. No magic. “Is that bad?”

She sighed. “I don’t know yet. We need to ask Sofie.”

I nodded. Another surprise. Maybe this so-called magic was what I had inadvertently used on Amelie earlier. Brushing that problem aside, I focused on the bigger one at hand. I forced a smile and told myself to act indifferent for Bishop’s sake. Inside, my organs were roiling.

“Come! Enjoy the festivities!” Mage exclaimed, striding toward me with her arms held out. Her feet faltered suddenly, her black eyes landing somewhere over my left shoulder. On Wraith. She must’ve weighed her options and chose not to test him because she stopped where she was, instead gesturing to a side table laden with silver trays of pastries, deviled eggs, a well-stocked shrimp tree. In the center sat a small roasted pig surrounded by baked figs and assorted cheeses.

“I’m sure you must be hungry after last night,” Mage said, a tiny hint of disapproval in her voice.