He had smiled at her, but the smile had not reached his eyes. His eyes . . . She hadn’t remembered them being so cold. As she collected her tools and buckets, she did not even glance at the royal couple. The queen was still reading verse. As for the king, Anna swore she could feel those cold eyes burning into her back as she retreated from the sitting room.

When she reached the sanctuary of the servants’ passage, she set everything down and wiped the sweat off her face with her sleeve. She nearly wilted to the floor. With any luck, the king would not be present when she made her next rounds.

She almost leaped out of her skin when she heard the approach of footsteps, but was relieved when she saw it was only the queen’s personal maid.

“What is it, child?” Jaid asked. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s noth-nothing,” Anna gulped. She hastily collected her buckets and tools and hurried down the passage.

Slee reminded itself that servants would come and go, and that the Zachary, if he noticed them at all, would not be sharp with them without good reason. Slee must remember who it was it was trying to be, and behave accordingly.

For now, Slee was content, if overwarm with the Beautiful One leaning against it—him. Her voice vibrated against his chest as she read the poetry, and he could not keep his fingers out of her hair. It made her giggle, which pleased him more. He touched her cheek and traced her jawline, her neck, but it made her shiver. He must be careful, for though he wore the form of the Zachary, his element was still ice and he did not give off the heat the humans did.

Soon, another servant arrived, this one an adult. Slee searched the Zachary’s memories and found a name: Jaid.

“My lady,” the servant said, “I have turned down your bed. It is the hour Master Mender Vanlynn has prescribed for your retirement.”

Slee felt the Beautiful One sag in disappointment. “So soon,” she murmured.

Slee thought to protest, but the Zachary’s memory was full of dictates from this Vanlynn that had been put in place to help keep mother and young safe. Instead of protesting, he assisted the Beautiful One off the sofa. Though he was intoxicated by her nearness, it was a relief to have her heat removed from him.

“You could come to bed with me,” she told him.

It would be glorious to do so, but Slee had something else to take care of, and again drawing on the memories of the Zachary, he said, “Perhaps another night. I have some business to attend to.” At her look of disappointment, he added, “Not to worry, my dearest, we will have long days and nights together ahead of us.” He kissed her brow.

He watched after her as she followed her maid toward the bed chamber. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. When she disappeared from sight, he returned to the king’s rooms. When the valet appeared, he said, “Take the night off, Horston.”

Apparently this was not too unusual a request for the servant didn’t argue. Instead, he bowed and left Slee alone. Slee went to the king’s bed chamber. First he created an illusion of a sleeping person beneath the covers should anyone come seeking the king; then he threw a casement window open and breathed deeply of the wintry air. Yes, he had business to attend to. He turned insubstantial and let the currents of the night wind carry him away.

IN SLEE’S LAIR

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

Zachary wiped water off his face.

Plink.

Plink.

Was it part of some dream, this dripping?

“Definitely male,” said a lovely female voice.

He incorporated her words into the darkness of the dream.

“Oh, we haven’t had a boy in so long.” Another female voice, but more ordinary.

Plink.

Plink.

He shivered as more drops of icy water splattered on his face. They were much too real to be a dream. Darkness clung to his mind even as consciousness leaked in. He became aware of the hardness of the surface beneath him, the cold air. What happened? He remembered being up on the castle roof stargazing, and then . . . and then being slammed. His body hurt all over and he groaned.

“He’s waking,” the lovely voice said.

“Do you s’pose he’s a gift? I mean a new mate? We never got a big boy before. He looks strong.”

“Yes, Magged, he looks very strong.”

“Where . . . ?” he whispered. He opened his eyes to slits just in time for another drop to thunk on the bridge of his nose. He blinked rapidly, but still he could not see clearly. All was a blur, and light scorched his vision.

“I hope he likes us.”

“Hush now, Magged. Let him wake up.”

Zachary gazed upward. Suspended over his head was a stalactite, and it was this that was dripping water onto his face. He shivered as he regained his senses, his flesh reacting to the cold air. He was naked. He sat up and someone squawked and jumped back. His mind darkened for a moment, then churned in a vortex of dizziness. He rolled to his side and retched up whatever remained of his midday meal. He sat there panting, and soon he found some equilibrium. The world stopped spinning and the scene around him resolved in his vision, and what he saw made no sense at first.

He was in a huge rounded chamber of a cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling high above like gleaming teeth, droplets clinging to their pointed tips. The surface beneath him was smooth and moist. Dripstone—travertine—appeared to coat all the walls and floor like melted wax. Stalagmites grew up from the floor as mirrors of the stalactites above, some meeting in the middle to create grotesque pillars.