Audrey reached the end of the hallway and leaned with her back against the wall, holding her plate and her drink.
One moment, she wished she hadn’t told him no; the next moment, she’d reasoned that it was the right thing to do, the best thing for them both. Would it be awkward now? Would he be angry, hurt? Would he act like nothing happened? The only way to find out would be to open that door.
Knowing Kaldar, it could only go two ways from here. Either he cut his losses, or he would try even harder.
She couldn’t stand here forever.
Audrey made her way back to the suite. Her hands full, she banged her toes against the door. The door swung open, and Audrey almost dropped her plate.
A trim man stood in the doorway. He was clean-shaven, meticulously groomed, but still distinctly masculine. His short hair, the color of dark brown sugar, was brushed back from his face. His long sideburns, shaped with surgical precision, made his face appear more narrow. He wore black leather pants of complex construction, with ornate Weird stitching and a wide-sleeved white shirt, with an embroidered high-necked collar. A vest clasped his narrow waist and wide chest, swirls and elaborate flourishes of pale gray leather over black. His hands, with perfectly clean, trimmed nails, were bare. He wore no jewelry except for a single silver earring.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said. His smooth, cultured voice exuded quiet competence.
It was Kaldar. Somehow, it was Kaldar.
“Would you care to come in, my lady?” The new Kaldar stepped aside, holding the door with a slight bow.
She stepped inside on autopilot. He shut the door behind her.
“Your hair,” she said.
“It was too dark before,” he said, his brown eyes solemn. “People tend to notice the extremes: hair color that’s too dark or too light stands out. By the nature of my role, I shouldn’t draw attention to myself.”
He’d cut at least three inches off too, trimming his wild mess into a structured, functional haircut.
She landed in a chair. Gaston was packing their bags. He wore dark brown leather, from his head to the toes of his tall boots. His hair had been brushed until it shone and braided away from his face. He put a wide-brimmed leather hat on his head and grinned.
“You look like a highwayman.”
“He’s our groom,” Kaldar said. “He’s meant to look menacing.”
Gaston raised his eyebrows and bared his teeth. “Grrr.”
Audrey laughed and picked at her fruit.
The boys emerged from the back room, both scrubbed clean. George wore a white shirt, pants of a deep green color, tucked into gray boots, and a gray jacket, which was almost leather armor, with accents of matching green. His blond hair all but glowed, framing his face like a curtain. A blueblood prince from head to toe.
Jack wore darker brown pants and a reinforced leather vest with brass-colored accents over a beige shirt. The vest sported a raised leather collar shielding his neck. Jack’s reddish brown mop of hair had somehow been coaxed into a perfectly slick bowl shape over his eyebrows that was completely wrong for his face. He looked about as happy as a boy who had just gotten himself a mouthful of overcooked spinach. Audrey choked on a piece of honeydew melon. “Jack, who did this to your hair?”
George drew himself up. “It’s a very popular hairstyle right now.”
“I’m sure. Do you like it?”
Jack shook his head.
“Go wet your head and bring me some hair gel. I’m going to play with your hair.”
A moment later, she had a bottle of hair gel and a brush and a wet-haired Jack, who sat cross-legged in front of her chair. She worked the gel into Jack’s hair and began to spike it, shaping it into a calculated mess.
“The trick is to own it,” she told Jack. “If you’re confident, everyone else will buy it.”
“So what’s the plan?” Gaston asked.
“George and Jack are themselves. I’m their tutor.” Kaldar turned to the boys. “My name is Olivier Brossard. I’ve been your tutor for two years. Declan hired me, and your sister Rose has the utmost confidence in me. Gaston, you’re Magnus, our groom.”
“And Audrey?” Jack asked.
Kaldar grimaced. “Unfortunately, there is no appropriate way to include Audrey in our party. Adolescent male bluebloods don’t typically travel in the company of a woman, unless she’s a blood relative. Audrey, you don’t have the knowledge necessary to pull off the guise of a blueblood.”
“We could dress her up as a man,” Jack said.
Audrey smiled. “You’re so sweet, Jack. Thank you for thinking of me. But even if we somehow managed to hide my chest, there is no way to disguise my face.”
“I concur,” Kaldar said. “You are too pretty and too feminine. Even if I glue a false beard on you, you would look like a woman with a false beard and not a man.”
That one casual word, “pretty,” made her heart speed up a bit. The way he said it, so matter-of-factly, just made the impact stronger. She’d fallen harder for Kaldar than she had thought. Well, what’s done is done.
He was talking to her. “Would you mind staying in the cabin when we land? Magnus will stay with you to keep an eye on things, and we’ll sneak you into our rooms at night.”
“That will be fine.” Audrey critically examined Jack’s head. His hair stood on end, not completely spiky but not completely curling, either. He looked like he could kick some butt. “I don’t mind hiding in the cabin.”
She glanced at Kaldar, trying to gauge his emotions. But Kaldar was gone. Only Olivier Brossard looked back at her, with a calm, sardonic expression.
THE wyvern circled the mountain, obeying the gentle suggestions of Kaldar’s long fingers touching the console levers. The huge beast turned and swept into the open. Next to Kaldar, Audrey leaned to the windshield. The California of the Broken was a desert in some parts, she reflected. The California of the Weird was all mountains, lakes, and lush greenery.
In the cabin behind them, the boys completed final preparations: the right weapons, the right gear. A quiet argument had broken out between Gaston and Jack over the choice of a dagger, with George acting as a referee.
Far ahead on the mountaintop, cushioned with the fluffy foliage of the Weird’s old forests, a castle thrust to the sky. Tall, majestic turrets and flanking towers of white stone covered by conical roofs of bright turquoise green stretched upward, connected by a textured curtain wall. In the middle of the courtyard the keep towered, six enormous stories of carved stone, touched here and there with green and gold. The six pinnacles on top of the keep proudly bore long standards of turquoise and gold.
“It’s like a fairy tale,” Audrey said.
“How many people do you think died carrying that stone up the mountain, my lady?” Kaldar asked casually. He had refused to let go of the Olivier persona, sinking into it completely, with his mannerisms and voice matching his new looks.
“Dozens,” she guessed.
“At the very least.”
The great beast banked, and they saw the front of the castle. Its rampart, the forward wall, was three stories high and colored the same bright turquoise as the flags and the roof. Long gold shapes marked the turquoise. Audrey raised the binoculars to her eyes. Dragons. The gold shapes were dragons, carved by a master sculptor and positioned crawling on the walls. More dragons fought a valiant battle on the keep, and yet another long, serpentine creature wound itself around the corner tower.
“Wow.” No expense spared. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Kaldar arched his eyebrow. “All of my ideas are good ideas, my lady.”