returned to the ruined living room and stood adrift in the mess. It was in here, he was certain. Whatever he’d missed the first time, it was here. He could feel it through the powerful deflection incant that had defeated him before-before Before I leapt without looking.
And yes. There it was. Embedded in the blood stains that had soaked and dried the old carpet. Kneeling again, Gerald hovered his fingertips above Abel Bestwick’s blood. Let out a long, slow breath and opened himself to evil.
The grimoire magic inside him leapt to life, like to like.
“Dammit,” he said softly, as his remade potentia rippled and writhed and his belly started to heave. “Oh, Bestwick. You poor bastard. How am I meant to help you now?”
CHAPTER TEN
Sprawled face up on the guest chamber’s ridiculously large, high bed, Bibbie flopped her arms wide, dangled her legs over the end of the counterpaned mattress and sighed, gustily.
“Honestly, Melissande. It’s not much fun being cooped up in here. I thought this janitoring business was going to be fun.”
Melissande, peering into the room’s ornate dressing mirror, held up one of her late mother’s gold-and- emerald earrings and let it dangle beside her cheek.
“And I thought Hartwig would take one look at Gladys Slack and start drooling,” she said, admiring the effect. “But he didn’t. I wonder if there’s something wrong with his eyes?”
“Since there’s no way I can answer that without getting into trouble, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you,” said Bibbie. “Now can we please get back to-”
“No,” she said, frowning at Bibbie’s disgruntled reflection. “Because trust me, Miss Slack, nobody’s having fun around here tonight, most especially me, since a whip and chair won’t go with my gown and short of a whip and chair there’ll be no way of keeping Hartwig at a decent distance at the reception. Not with gouty Brunelda still confined to her couch.”
Bibbie hooted. “Oh, Mel. I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
“Really?” Offended, Melissande slewed round on the padded crimson velvet dressing stool. “So you’re saying you can’t imagine Hartwig, or anyone else for that matter, getting- carried away — in my presence?”
Bibbie flopped her legs like a mermaid wondering where her tail had got to. “Don’t be silly. But it’s an official State Dinner, Melissande. The Crown Prince of Splotze isn’t going to make a cake of himself in front of all those important guests.” She sniffed. “Of which I am not one.”
At moments like this it was hard to remember precisely why she was fond of Monk’s sister. Just like Monk, Bibbie could be thoroughly obtuse, self-involved and clueless. It had to have something to do with being a genius. So much of the Markham siblings’ intellect was occupied with being brilliant, it seemed there wasn’t much room left for anything else.
“Of course you aren’t invited to Hartwig’s State Dinner,” she said. “You’re my lady’s maid, remember?”
“Who’s being relegated to the Servants’ Hall!” Bibbie wailed.
“The Servants’ Ball in the Servants’ Hall,” she corrected. “Personally, I think it sounds like fun. You’ll get to eat food that’s actually food, and kick up your heels in a jig afterwards, while I’m stuck sucking tadpoles’ eyes off toothpicks then spending the rest of the night keeping Hartwig at a desperate arm’s length while getting my toes trodden on in one dreary quadrille after another.”
“Oh, Mel, not tadpoles’ eyes! Nobody eats-”
She shuddered. “Trust me.”
Unfortunately, Bibbie was feeling too hard done by to be properly sympathetic. “Yes, well, even with the tadpoles it’s still a State Dinner, isn’t it? And I’ve never been to one. Monk and Aylesbury have, but I’m always left out of things. That’s the thanks I get for being born a gel. It’s all right for you. You might be a gel too, but at least you’re royal.”
Melissande shook her head. Obviously Monk’s sister hadn’t been paying the least bit of attention to all those tales of life in New Ottosland.
“Believe me, Bibbie, you’re better off as you are. Being royal is like living in a cage.”
Bibbie made a rude sound. “Maybe, except from what I’ve seen it’s a pretty swanky cage.”
“Yes, perhaps, sometimes,” she admitted, “but at the end of the day a prison’s still a prison even if the bars are gilded.”
“Well, if you hate the idea of this State Dinner so much, Your Highness, we could always swap places,” said Bibbie, suddenly hopeful. “Monk and I once cooked up a wonderfully effective doppleganger hex. I’m pretty sure I remember it. We could-”
“No, Bibbie, we couldn’t!” Exasperated, Melissande resisted an urge to throw the earring at her. “You don’t know the first thing about behaving like a princess. You don’t know anything about Hartwig. And you certainly don’t know enough about me and Rupert and New Ottosland to fool him when he starts romping down memory lane, which I promise you he will.”
“And whose fault is that?” Bibbie muttered. “I’d never even met your brother before-”
“Yes, and while we’re on the subject of Rupert…” She fixed Monk’s incorrigible sister with her best gimlet stare. “What was all that flirting about, back in New Ottosland? Honestly, Bibbie, I didn’t know where to look! And as for poor Gerald…”
One of Bibbie’s swift, impish grins lit up her altered face. “I know. Good, wasn’t it? He got really tetchy. I thought for a moment he might actually turn grass green!”
“So you did all that flirting to make Gerald jealous? Using my brother?” she said, tossing the earring back in its velvet-lined box. “Emmerabiblia Markham! How could you?”
At least Bibbie had the grace to squirm. “But I had to do something, Mel. I mean, it was either make Gerald notice me by flirting with your brother or ask Reg to poke him in the unmentionables on my behalf. And while I know our Reg would poke him, I’m not nearly so sure how co-operative this new one is.”
Melissande sprang off the dressing stool and relieved her feelings with some stamping about. “Right now I don’t give two fat ferrets about the romantic adventures of Emmerabiblia Markham. If you ever put Rupert in that position again I’ll-I’ll-”Whipping round, she fisted her hands on her hips. “You do realise, I suppose, that he was halfway to taking you seriously?”
“Oh,” said Bibbie, blinking. “Really? Well. That’s awkward.”
“It certainly is! Rupert might be a king, but he’s not sophisticated, Bibbie.” She thumped herself back on the dressing stool. “After growing up in Lional’s shadow, and all those years of pretending to be a gormless dimwit, well, he’s got some cosmopolitan catching up to do. Right now he’s no match for feminine wiles. He’s no match for you. And even if he were, that isn’t the point! Gerald doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, either. Really, Bibbie, it’s too bad.”
Bibbie’s bottom lip trembled. “I thought you’d understand. I mean, Monk’s just as hopeless. They’re peas in a pod, those two, when it comes to admitting their feelings. And I love Gerald, Melissande. I can’t imagine loving anyone else. So if I don’t give him a gentle nudge, then what? I spend the rest of my life pining? Well, bollocks to that!”
Though she was still cross on Rupert’s behalf, and Gerald’s-and a little pricked by the uncomfortable reference to pining-she had to laugh. “Miss Slack! Such vulgarity from a royal lady’s maid!”
But it wasn’t really a laughing matter. The last thing this mission needed was romantic misunderstandings and bruised hearts getting in the way.
“Look… Bibs…” She sighed. “This isn’t the time or the place for demanding declarations from Gerald. Sorting him out will have to wait till we get home. And even then, please, you must leave Rupert out of it. He has quite enough grief to be going on with, thanks to that old goat Lord Billingsley wheezing down his neck.”
Disconsolate, Bibbie flopped again. “Fine. I’ll wait. But if I die a spinster, Your Highness, I shall come back from the afterlife and make your life a bloody misery!”
Oh dear. Bibbie really was glum. Biting her lip, trying to think of something cheerful, Melissande was struck by a fortunate thought. “Actually, Bibs, I think you’re missing something.”
