And he’d wanted to pass some time in the library, with a book and the fire.

He stepped in, leading with his irritation, and a scathing comment rolling up to the tip of his tongue.

Which would have been wasted, he decided, as she was curled up on one of the sofas, sleeping.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do? Leave her be, wake her and pour the damn tea into her?

Undecided, he stood where he was, studying her.

Pretty enough, he thought, with a potential for true beauty if she put any effort into it. At least when she slept it didn’t seem as though her eyes would swallow her face, and whoever she aimed those long, large gray beacons toward with it.

There was a time he’d have found it entertaining to corrupt and defile her kind of innocence. To peel it away slowly, layer by layer, until there was nothing left of it.

These days he preferred the simplicity of the more experienced, women who were in it for no more than he was. A few hours of heat in the dark.

Creatures like this took a great deal of effort. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been stirred enough to play with one.

In the end he decided to leave the tray on the table. If she woke, she’d drink it. If she didn’t, well, sleep itself would go a long way to restoring her.

Either way, he’d have done the chore.

He moved to the table, laid the tray down with barely a click of china on wood. But she stirred, nonetheless. A low moan, a little tremor. He backed away, his eyes on her face—and was careless enough to step into a thin slant of sunlight.

The quick, searing pain in his shoulder had him cursing under his breath even as he moved quickly out of the beam. Annoyed with Glenna, with himself, with the sleeping queen, he turned to go.

She began to twitch in her sleep, small sounds of fear gurgling in her throat. Her body rolled up into a tight ball as she shuddered. And in sleep, she began to speak breathlessly.

“No, no, no.” Again and again, until she fell into unintelligible Gaelic.

She thrashed, rolling to her back, going stiff as she bowed up, exposing the line of her throat.

He moved quickly, stepping between the couch and the table, and leaning down, gave her a hard shake.

“Wake up,” he ordered. “Snap out of it now, I haven’t the patience for this.”

She moved fast—and he faster—slapping the stake she stabbed out with from her hand. It clattered on the floor ten feet away.

“Don’t do that.” He gripped her wrist, felt her pulse striking like an anvil against his fingers. “Next time you do, I’ll snap this like a twig, I promise you.”

“I—I—I—”

“Very succinct. Are you understanding me?”

Her eyes, huge and glassy with fear darted around the room. “She was here, she was here. No, no, not here.” Moira came up to her knees, gripping his arm with her free hand. “Where is she? Where? I can still smell her. Too sweet, too heavy.”

“Stop.” He released her wrist to take hold of her shoulders. Another shake had her teeth chattering. “You were asleep, you were dreaming.”

“No. I was…Was I? I don’t know. It’s not dark. It’s not dark yet, but it was…” She put her hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away as he expected, she simply dropped her head there. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I need a moment.”

He caught himself reaching back to stroke her hair—that long thick braid the color of dark oak. He dropped his hand to the side.

“You fell asleep here on the couch,” he said in a flat, almost businesslike voice. “You had a dream. Now you’re awake.”

“I thought Lilith…” She reared back. “I nearly staked you.”

“No. Not even close.”

“I didn’t mean—I wouldn’t have meant.” She closed her eyes in an obvious effort to find some composure. When she opened them, her eyes were clearer, and very direct. “I’m very sorry, but why are you here?”

He stepped to the side, gestured. Now it was simple shock that moved over her face. “You…You made me tea and biscuits?”

“Glenna,” he corrected, surprisingly embarrassed at the very thought. “I’m just the delivery boy.”

“Um. It’s very kind of you all the same. I didn’t mean to sleep. I thought I would read after Larkin went upstairs. But I…”

“Have your tea then. You’ll likely be the better for it.” When she only nodded, made no move, he cast his eyes to the ceiling. Then he poured out a cup of tea. “Lemon or cream, Your Highness?”

She tipped her head to look at him. “You’re annoyed with me, and who could blame you for it? You brought me tea, and I tried to kill you.”

“Then don’t waste my time or the bloody tea. Here.” He pushed the cup into her hands. “Drink it down. Glenna’s orders.”

Still watching him, she took a sip. “It’s very nice.” Then her lips trembled, her eyes filled.

His belly tightened. “I’ll leave you with it then, and with your tears.”

“I wasn’t strong enough.” The tears didn’t fall, just glimmered in her eyes like rain over fog. “I couldn’t help them hold the spell, I couldn’t do it. So it broke away, it shattered, and it was like shards of glass ripping through us. We couldn’t get any of the others, any of the others from the cages.”

He wondered if he should tell her that Lilith would only replace the ones they took. Likely twice the number in her fury.

“Now you waste your own time, blaming yourself, and feeling sorry for yourself with it. If you could’ve done more, you would have.”

“In the dream, she said she wouldn’t bother to drink me. Being the smallest, the weakest, I wouldn’t be worth the trouble.”

He sat on the table facing her, helped himself to one of her biscuits. “She’s lying.”

“How do you know?”

“Creature of the night, remember? The smallest is very often the sweetest. A kind of appetizer, if you will. If I were still in the habit of it, I’d bite you in a heartbeat.”

She lowered the tea cup to frown at him. “Is that, in some strange way, a kind of flattery?”

“Take it as you like.”

“Well. Thank you…I suppose.”

“Finish off your tea.” He got to his feet. “Ask Glenna for something to block the dreams. She’s bound to have it.”