“So Darshan screwed up your orders?”

“That fiasco was on no order of mine.” Nukpana’s smile was slow and full of intent. “I have you exactly where I want you—as did Primaru Nathrach in that alley. You let a rare opportunity slip through your fingers, little seeker. It’s not often that an elf has a chance to taste goblin black magic.” His dark eyes lingered where my bubbles weren’t. “No doubt Primaru Nathrach found you utterly delectable.

You glisten with the Saghred’s power. He keeps you at a distance because if you get within arm’s reach again, he will take you. He will not be able to stop himself.” Nukpana laughed softly. “Once a dark mage, always a dark mage.”

I was sure there could be worse circumstances I could be in, but being naked in a tub with an evil megalomaniac sitting next to me definitely warranted an honorable mention. Too bad I hadn’t used bath oil instead of bubbles. At least Sarad Nukpana wouldn’t be able to get a grip on me should he decide to try.

He was using Tam to bait me. I wasn’t going to bite. “So the Mal’Salins set their Khrynsani lapdogs on me?”

“The Mal’Salin family controls the Khrynsani in name only. Their master is the one who has come to reclaim what your father stole from him.” Nukpana dropped my towel and picked up Muralin’s journal. “I always found his writing style to be rather pompous, though the content is entertaining enough. Old Goblin is hardly light reading suitable for the bath, little seeker.”

Tam had lied. His family wasn’t running the Khrynsani show. Rudra Muralin was. Or maybe no one had told the Mal’Salins that their attack dogs were answering to someone else’s whistle. Who knew what kind of tangled knot Tam had gotten himself tied up in. Goblins lived for intrigue, deception, betrayal, and all the backstabbing that went with it.

Nukpana leaned back in his chair. “I wish you luck finding Rudra Muralin. He was nineteen years old when he fell into the Great Rift. Mid is teeming with college students, many of them goblin.” Nukpana’s expression grew thoughtful. “What is that quaint expression involving a needle and a haystack? Perhaps while Grand Shaman Muralin is here he can hear my favorite nightingale sing.” He smiled. “Who knows? Perhaps he already has.”

Nukpana referred to Piaras as a nightingale. Piaras didn’t like it, and neither did I.

“Stay away from him,” I growled.

The goblin raised his hands defensively. “It’s Rudra Muralin you should be threatening, little seeker—but first you have to find him. Piaras’s skill is astonishing for such a young age. And the way he sang us all to sleep—the Saghred hasn’t received such a treat in years. Those with the sweetest magic are the most delicious. Is he being properly trained?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And considering his skill level, Ronan Cayle would be his voice master. I know of a master more suitable to develop his unique talent.” Nukpana smiled slowly. “Maestro Cayle should take care; he could soon find himself with competition.”

I sat up in the tub, sloshing water over the side. My remaining bubbles parted and I didn’t give a damn. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” My tone told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t answer, I was out of that tub with my hands around his throat, buck naked or not.

“If I told you, it would spoil the surprise.” He leaned forward. “And I can guarantee that you will be very surprised.” His black eyes shone in the half-light. “Was that response evasive enough to make you come out of the tub after me? I would enjoy that very much.”

I sat back, this time intentionally sloshing water over the side and soaking Nukpana’s feet. “Live with disappointment,” I said with calm I didn’t feel.

The goblin was staring in the direction of my bedroom door. I heard a distant pounding. Something or someone was trying to get in. Nukpana started to fade.

“Enjoy your freedom, little seeker. You will not have it for long.”

Chapter 15

I woke up. I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. My water was ice-cold.

The pounding was someone kicking in my door. Then the kicking stopped and I felt a massive surge of power.

Dammit. I jumped out of the tub and ran to get a dagger. Then I faced the door, braced and ready for whatever was coming through it. I shivered and realized I was standing in a puddle of water, dripping wet, and I was still naked. I swore again and scurried back for my towel.

I was reaching for it when most of the door simply disintegrated.

Mychael all but fell into the room, his hands glowing white-hot with an unreleased spell. Instead of whatever he expected to find, he saw a soaking wet, naked seeker holding a dagger and a towel.

I clutched the towel in front me. “What the hell?”

I didn’t know who was more stunned, him or me. But I knew who was more embarrassed.

Mychael’s face went through several shades of pink in search of a blush. “You were shouting… The door was locked and you didn’t answer—”

“So you blew away my door?” I felt laughter bubbling up, probably a prelude to hysteria.

Mychael’s blush turned into a paladin’s indignation. “Yes, I blew away your door!”

“I was in the tub—” I managed through chattering teeth.

“I can see that.” His voice had a rough edge—and his sea blue eyes were looking at where my towel wasn’t.

I clenched my dagger between my teeth while I wrapped the towel around myself, restoring some semblance of decency. It wasn’t a particularly big towel, but it covered most of what needed to be covered.

“I fell asleep in the tub,” I said. “Sarad Nukpana was in my dream, sitting right there.” I pointed to the chair near the tub. “Your kicking chased him off.” I shivered with cold, and tried to smile. “Thanks. Good timing.”

There was a commotion in the hall. Vegard burst into the room, his ax drawn.

“Sir, we heard… Whoa!” He saw me and stopped dead in his tracks. He looked from me to Mychael, then at the door—or what was left of it. “I’ll come back later.”

“It was a misunderstanding, Vegard,” Mychael told him. “Wait for us at the end of the hall. In the meantime, see that no one comes in.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir.” And he was gone.

“Bring a new door,” I called after him. I looked at Mychael. “What do you mean, wait for us?”

In response, he pulled the blanket off my bed and crossed the room to me in three strides. He held the blanket between us, and kept his eyes on mine.

“Drop the towel,” he said, his voice low.

I gaped up at him. “Excuse me?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’ll need it to dry off. I promise I won’t look.”

I snorted. “You’ve already seen everything.”

“Yes, I have.” He didn’t blush again, but the tips of his ears were pink—and his blue eyes had darkened.

He averted those eyes and resolutely kept them that way while I dried off. When I finished, he carefully wrapped the blanket around me, his expression serious.

“You need to get dressed.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.”

Great. First I got to be Sarad Nukpana’s tub toy; now Mychael had news so bad even he admitted I wouldn’t like hearing it.

“The Seat of Twelve have requested to see you and Piaras. Immediately.”

I hadn’t been in this part of the citadel before. It was less military, more formal. Imposingly formal. We had a dozen armed Guardians as an escort. Vegard and Riston were among them. They didn’t look happy with where we were going. Maybe it was just me, but going somewhere inside the citadel with that many Guardians didn’t bode well. Mychael’s grim expression confirmed it.

“Do you know what kind of questions they’ll ask?” Piaras asked Mychael.

Piaras’s voice was steady, but I knew the kid had to be shaking like a leaf inside. He had absolutely no business being here. The only fear he should be dealing with today was recital stage fright.