“Sit, rest,” Radu said, fluttering about. “I’ll have refreshments brought.”

The advice had the opposite of the intended effect on me. “I’m not hungry,” I lied. “Is there anywhere I can clean up?”

The rambling old place was staffed by some of Mircea’s stable, several of whom came in as we were speaking. Like all good servants, they’d anticipated their master’s needs. The one carrying a tray and bottle was well-known to me—unfortunately.

“Geoffrey, can you show Dorina to the gold room?” Radu asked. “Be back in an hour, Dory, or Chef will sulk. He’s so pleased to have someone new to cook for, he’s been slaving away all day.”

“I’ll remember,” I said, giving Geoffrey the hairy eyeball. It’s hard to look dignified in a few rags, a pair of bloody boots and a velvet cloak, especially when you have a filthy fur ball wrapped around your neck, but I tried.

Ever the proper English servant, Geoffrey inclined his head without hesitation, nothing in his carriage giving away the fact that he’d vastly prefer to show me to the closest garbage heap. “Of course, my lord.”

I followed Geoffrey out the door as the second servant, a human, started undoing his cravat. He was handsome, with tawny hair and eyes and a healthy, youthful complexion. I hastened my steps, overtaking my guide in my hurry to get away before Louis-Cesare started in on his appetizer.

I took a wrong turn and ended up in a grassy courtyard with a small fountain and a couple of fruit trees. The night sky was dark blue overhead, soft with the glimmer of stars, but the illumination from the house made it possible to see without being obtrusive. A light breeze, cool but not cold, blew in from a small iron gate set in the wall, which was weighed down by a mass of overgrown honeysuckle. It was surprisingly charming.

“Your rooms are this way, unless you intend to bathe in the fountain, miss,” Geoffrey commented from over my shoulder.

I thought of the wreck Stinky would likely make of any bathroom. “Yeah. This is good. Fetch towels and some soap, would you?”

Geoffrey hesitated for a full five seconds—a new record—before I heard his quiet “Yes, miss.”

I actually did end up bathing in the fountain, although not by choice. Stinky, it turned out, did not like water and was even less enamored with soap. He made it clear that he had no intention of getting to know either of them better. To make a long story short, I insisted, he demurred, I pulled him off me and threw him in the fountain, he leapt out and I chased him around the courtyard and threw him back in. And so on. It ended with both of us soaking wet in a fountain filled with bubbles, but Stinky was going to need a new name. At least for a little while.

I wadded up the Fey’s velvet cloak in an attempt to dry Stinky’s hair. Since he was basically a fur ball with claws, that was harder than it sounds, but I had started to make headway when I heard a noise behind me. I turned to find Louis-Cesare standing at the edge of a puddle staring at me with a strange expression.

“That garment is doubtless worth a fortune,” he observed as Stinky tried his best to shred the Fey’s cape. The material stretched but didn’t rip, trapping him long enough for me to finish the job. He fled under a pink rhododendron as soon as I let him loose, and immediately began rolling in the dirt. I sighed.

“You planning to rat me out to the Fey?” I demanded.

“No.” Louis-Cesare put a bundle of cloth and a bottle of wine down on the edge of the fountain. He saw the direction of my gaze. “I thought we deserved a drink.”

I thought that was the most sensible thing I’d heard him say yet. I sorted through the bundle, which turned out to be clothes, while he poured us both a drink and a half. As I’d feared, Radu’s idea of appropriate attire was scary. The white linen tunic was okay, with a high neck closed with black ribbon ties and long, full sleeves. But it had been matched with a heavy white wool skirt and two black aprons covered in red and gold embroidery. Traditional Romanian female attire. I refrained from wincing, if only barely.

“Lord Radu said you would find these garments familiar,” Louis commented. I looked at him suspiciously. He looked sober enough, so why did I get the impression he was laughing?

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” I said sourly. Unfortunately, the choice was between wearing Radu’s offerings and dining nude. My T-shirt was being held together by a safety pin borrowed from Olga, and the few dry patches on my jeans were stiff with blood.

“Radu has… unusual taste,” Louis-Cesare agreed, sitting on the edge of the fountain. I realized I wasn’t the only one relegated to borrowed attire, although he’d definitely gotten the better of the bargain. A cascade of lace spilled down the front of his antique shirt, and buttery leather pants hugged better legs than any vampire deserved. To go with it, he had a nice peach complexion, the darkest I’d seen on him yet, and his hair was back to its usual shiny abundance. The lamplight from the house filtered through the trees overhead, dappling it with gold.

Not for the first time, I envied vamps their recuperative powers. He still looked a little worn around the edges, more the warrior than the fashion plate, but he’d be right as rain by morning. I doubted I’d be so lucky. I slumped on the side of the fountain, struggling with the fact that I’d gotten winded chasing a baby Duergar. Changing clothes suddenly seemed like way too much trouble, at least without that drink first.

“Where’d you get the wine?” I asked as Louis-Cesare passed me a glass. It turned out to be a dark, fruity red, Radu’s own label.

“It was meant for dinner; I found it on the butler’s tray.”

“So Geoffrey actually did me a favor?” The wine hit my empty stomach hard, but I didn’t care. Occasionally my weird metabolism actually comes in handy. “Will wonders never cease?”

“He is yours to command.”

“Who? Geoffrey?” He nodded and I laughed. “Sure he is.”

“You are Lord Mircea’s daughter.”

“And the stain on the family honor,” I reminded him.

“Like a good butler, Geoffrey prefers things tidy.”

“He has threatened you?” Louis-Cesare sounded surprisingly grim, considering that he’d done the same himself not too long ago.

“Everyone threatens me; it’s not important.”

“You deserve his respect!”

“For what? Being the boss’ little girl?” I waved my glass, sloshing some wine over the side. It looked strangely like blood in the dark. “’Fraid that’s outweighed by the whole killing-off-his-kind thing.”

“I have seen you kill no one who did not deserve it. And you handle your… disability… admirably.” He stopped, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I did not think a dhampir capable of such compassion.”

I stared. By God. A compliment. From Louis-Cesare. That wine was just going right to his head.

And then, of course, he ruined it. “I am glad you have come to your senses about Lord Radu.”

“Come to my senses?”

“To help protect him. It is the only intelligent way to proceed.”

“How exactly is letting Drac run free intelligent?” I demanded.

Louis-Cesare’s eyes narrowed. “He will be caught eventually. It is only a matter of time with the forces the Senate currently has in the field.”

“Except they aren’t gunning for him.”

“He has shown a lack of judgment in the past, a reputation borne out by his current alliance. He cannot help but run foul of the Senate before long.”

“That’s one theory.” And not one I shared. People had been underestimating Drac for centuries. He might be crazy, but he had the Basarab cunning and was utterly ruthless about how he used it. Not a good combo. “But then, you gotta wonder why, if the Senate can deal with him, Mircea went to the trouble of drafting us.”

“He hopes to end this before his brother spills more innocent blood.”