“I didn’t agree to that!” Will hissed in a whispered yell.
Blake raised one brow. “You’d have turned them away? Be honest.”
Fatigue and frustration combined to overwhelm him. Will’s eyes focused on the balustrade that bordered the stairs, and suddenly a piece of it exploded, flying away in a shower of splinters. Blake jerked and stared, then looked back at him. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, until Will spoke first. “Fuck.” He’d inadvertently reflex cast a force-lance. There was no doubt now.
“Not to worry. I already have a carpenter downstairs. I’ll put him on the repair as soon as he finishes the door,” said the manservant reasonably.
Closing his eyes, Will rubbed his face while composing his thoughts. “I need some quiet. Please give my guests my apologies. I’ll speak with them after I’ve rested.”
“Certainly, sir, however—”
Will held up a hand to silence the man. “No buts. I’ll think about all this after a nap.” Turning away, he went to the master bedroom door and opened it. He came face to face with Mark Nerrow, who was in the process of changing into a robe and slippers. Will’s robe, and Will’s slippers. The two men stared at one another for a split second, then Will gently closed the door.
“It was the only room fit for a man and his wife,” said Blake from beside his shoulder. “The guest rooms were too small.”
Will pointed at one of the guest room doors.
“Miss Laina is in that one, sir.”
He pointed at the final bedroom.
“I put Miss Tabitha in that one.”
He nodded, pursing his lips, then responded, “They’re sisters—couldn’t they have shared a room?”
“Ordinarily, sir,” agreed Blake. “But Miss Laina’s bodyguard, Darla, is sharing her room. It seemed uncouth to force all three of them into one room.”
“Oh, sure. That makes sense,” agreed Will equitably, a strange sound in his voice. “And the servant’s quarters downstairs, I assume that’s occupied as well?”
“I’m letting Armand share it with me,” said Blake. “But I can sleep in the parlor, and you can use the bed. He and I were taking turns anyway.”
Will pointed upward. “The old attic quarters?”
“Monique is using it for now.”
“Monique.”
“Their maid. She doesn’t have any family in the city, so she had nowhere else to go.”
“Naturally,” said Will, starting down the stairs.
Blake called after him anxiously, “Where are you going, sir?”
“The dormitory I suppose,” announced Will. “I’m sure they have a closet I can sleep in.” He made it to the bottom of the stairs when a figure with long dark hair darted out of the hall and charged toward him.
“Brother!” It was Tabitha, presumably referring to his status as their pretend brother-in-law. She caught him with a smile and threw her arms around him.
Will froze, but Tabitha didn’t release him. She was a bit like Sammy in that regard, or perhaps she sensed his tension. Will’s emotions grew turbulent, and his fatigue ate away at his control. After a moment he returned the embrace, staring over her shoulder. Tears began to well in his eyes and when he looked up, he saw Agnes and Laina standing in the kitchen door, watching him.
Agnes walked over, and Will silently disengaged himself from Tabitha. The young woman’s face registered that something was wrong, though she wasn’t quite sure what it might be. Agnes took his arm and led him back up the stairs. “I assume you saw Mark in the bedroom?” she asked.
He nodded.
“He was just changing. We lost most of our clothes, but he wasn’t going to bed. You look tired.”
“Yeah.” Somehow, he couldn’t protest as she pulled him along.
“Let’s put you to bed for a while then,” she said soothingly. Her husband was stepping out into the hall as they approached. He nodded at Will and started to say something, but Agnes warned him away with a look. She took Will into his bedroom, and Blake followed them in. “Get some rest, and when you’re awake I’ll have Armand prepare something warm for you to eat. We can talk then.”
“I’ll see to the rest, Your Excellency,” said Blake.
The baroness nodded and quietly ducked out of the room.
Will stared mournfully at Blake, but the manservant merely shrugged. “Let’s get you out of those clothes. They look like they’re ready for the rag pile.”
For once, Will didn’t fight while Blake helped him undress. A few minutes later he was in bed, his head comfortably resting on his favorite pillow. Selene’s pillow, he noted absently, vowing to hide it after he woke later. She had brought it with her after leaving the palace. Glancing up at Blake, he asked, “Remind me again, why didn’t they go to the palace instead?”
“The baron didn’t trust the king,” said Blake immediately. “Not after what happened a few days back, when you were whipped.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” said Will, then he closed his eyes and drifted away.
He woke up suddenly somewhere close to noon, feeling a sense of impending doom. It was too late. He’d wasted too much time. After a moment, he oriented himself and his heart rate returned to normal, but the anxiety remained. I’m not prepared for tonight, he realized. That was the heart of the matter.
But he was rested. The sleep at the Alchemy building, as well as a few hours of rest after the regeneration potion that morning, had combined to leave him feeling hale and hearty, though he wasn’t sure if he was sound of mind. Janice flashed through his thoughts, and he hastily pushed the thought away. He needed to get ready; there wasn’t time for wasting.
Will rose and dressed in simple but clean clothes, a pair of trousers and a light tunic. A pair of boots and a belt completed his attire, and he was dressed, though he felt strangely light without his customary under-the-tunic brigandine. He would have to order another made once everything returned to normal.
That done, he went to his desk and did a quick mental assessment of his resources. Two potions of regeneration, eighteen blood-cleanse potions left, twenty vials of alchemical fire, and a foolish amount of white phosphorous. He also had his armor and weapons, which he summoned and checked briefly. One sword was badly nicked, so he spent a moment to sharpen it with a spell, then sent it back to storage.
There was still a vampire in a jar, but until the renovations were done, he couldn’t do much with it. He readied an Ethelgren’s Illumination and closed the curtains to the bedroom before summoning the jar to check its contents. His heart was pounding, but the jar was still sealed and seemed otherwise intact. Keeping the spell in hand, he untied the twine, then removed the cloth covering the jar. Nothing jumped out, and when he glanced inside, he saw that the pile of pieces had reunited into a whole—an emaciated body lay within.