Page 56 of Fortune's Blade

“Does she have a name?” I asked, after a moment, remembering what Tanet had said, and her eyes flew open.

“You heard that?”

“As in a dream. I’m not entirely sure I’m awake now.”

“You are.” Her eyes darkened. “You’re just very injured. You almost died, Dory.”

“Lucky that I have my healer best friend here then, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t do much,” she admitted, frowning, and putting down a small pot of something stinky and green that I hadn’t noticed her carrying because there were so many other things to notice right now. “You’re alive because of your own healing abilities, and Louis-Cesare’s.”

“He doesn’t have much,” I reminded her. “The family gift skipped him, like it did me.”

“But you’re tough as nails,” Claire said, and then she sobbed suddenly and tried to hug me, only to realize at the last moment that she couldn’t because there wasn’t enough uninjured skin left to work with. “I can’t take the dress off,” she whispered. “It’s . . . I’m afraid your skin will come with it.”

“Good thing it’s a nice color on me,” I said, trying not to writhe. “If I’m going to be wearing it for a while.”

“Dory!”

Claire had been whispering, but that last had not been a whisper and had cracked like a whip. I stared at her, not understanding what I’d said that was so wrong, and a second later, Louis-Cesare was peering into the tent flap. He didn’t look like he understood, either, but he didn’t like it.

“Get out,” Claire told him, without turning around.

And he liked that even less. So did I, because her tone had gone from more or less normal to knife edged. It sounded a lot like her brother’s half transformed voice suddenly. And then I noticed her eyes.

Which were no longer green.

Louis-Cesare started to say something, but I quieted him with a gesture. I didn’t break eye contact with Claire—or whoever this was—but not because I didn’t trust her. I didn’t trust her, as it happened, not if her alter ego had decided to interrupt our conversation, but I kept her gaze for a much simpler reason than that.

I literally couldn’t look away.

Oh, yeah. Not Claire anymore, I thought, as the striations in those vividly purple and yellow eyes seemed almost to move. Not Claire at all.

“It’s okay,” I heard myself say. “Do as she says.”

But Louis-Cesare didn’t take orders well, even when they came from me, and that hadn’t sounded like me. It had been my voice, my lips moving, my tongue forming the words, but they weren’t mine. And damnit, this wasn’t helping!

I made a Herculean effort and wrenched my eyes away from hers, and ended up panting with the effort that simple move had taken.

“Dory,” Louis-Cesare said flatly, as if he suspected something, too. “I do not think that is wise. You are injured—”

“And if I wasn’t?” I asked harshly. “If she wanted to attack me there would be nothing I could do about it, no matter what shape I was in.” And neither could you, I didn’t add, because he wasn’t likely to respond to that well. “Please. Give us a moment.”

Louis-Cesare and I locked eyes. He was still very much Not Happy, a facial expression I rarely saw. Despite being stubborn bastards who both liked to be right, we actually didn’t fight all that much. Probably because we were stubborn about different things.

Unfortunately, one of his triggers was danger to me, partially resulting from a time when he had been possessed by a vengeful spirit and had been the one supplying the danger. He had done me a serious injury and had never forgiven himself for it, despite it not being his fault. We’d been working on the paranoia from that event ever since and some progress had been made, but right now, he was right.

There was danger here.

I could feel it, crawling over my skin like a colony of ants, buzzing in the air, shivering along my skin. A weightiness came with it, as if a heavy blanket had been draped over me, or a few extra atmospheres had suddenly muscled into the air and were making it hard to breathe. But I didn’t think the danger was to me. And if I was wrong . . ..

I didn’t think there was anything anyone could do about it.

“Please.” I made it emphatic.

Despite the male model good looks, my Hubby wasn’t stupid. He had done some mental math, too, and hadn’t liked what it told him. I saw his hand clench on the fabric of the tent flap, as if to keep from drawing his sword. And then suddenly he was gone, and I heard him and Tanet having a low-voiced conversation somewhere outside that I couldn’t decipher.

But Claire obviously could.

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