She retreated from the sill, and scrambled from one strange seat to another. She settled herself on the arm of a plush chair with a diamond pattern across it. Once situated, she got hold of herself, folding her hands in her lap. She didn’t wait for the silence between them to become uncomfortable, but instead promptly asked, “What do you think of ‘The Swallow Who Fell in Love with the Moon?’”

Her conversation was as active as a squirrel naturally, and even more so when she was feeling a bit shy and awkward.

His brows drew together briefly again and she hastened to explain.

“You were reading it this morning in the lift,” she said. “It’s been one of my favorites for a long time. I brought my own copy with me from home,” she turned to nod toward the sill, where a copy of the same book lay. “ — and some others of Evangeline Belmont’s, although I had to pack them. They sent my luggage off some place, I suppose to my father’s house.” And then it at last dawned on her. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said. “I’ve been very rude. I’m Demeter Serraffield, Lord Serraffield’s daughter.” She stood and crossed the space between them to offer her hand.

“I know,” he answered almost absently, taking her hand briefly and giving it a single firm shake.

This brought the wicked tail of her smile back to her face.

“You’re certainly full of surprises, Lord Eisenreich,” she said with a laugh that was as easy as the sun on a lizard’s back in the warm grass. “Reading romances, telling jokes, knowing my name. A person might even begin to expect that you’d come into this room for no other reason than to talk to me.”

“That is the reason I came into this room,” he said, direct and brusque, and apparently still totally unconcerned.

She might have been fluttering, but he was a rock. He was immovable, inviolable stable craton. He was the oldest rock in the world.

Then he frowned, as if he had tasted something sour. “I would prefer you not call me that,” he said.

Demi went from a moment of rosy surprise and twittery fluttering to the bright and insufferable satisfaction of a cat that had just caught a bird. She gleamed like the fine edge of a knife. She had found her footing again. He had issued an invitation, whether or not he regarded it as such.

“And what shall I call you then?” she asked, leaning forward a little, so that she could look up into his face as she teased him. It was one of her favorite tactics with people who were taller than she was, which amounted to practically everybody over the age of twelve. This time her question was rhetorical, because she continued on without waiting for an answer. “I don’t know your given name, but I’m terribly good at guessing games. You can call me Demi if you like,” she imparted breezily, barely sparing a moment for this nicety before dancing forward on her feet, keen on playing and winning the game she’d just invented. “Is your name Claudius? Diocletian? Valerian? Septimius? What about Hadrian? Well then, let’s try something a little less Roman. How do you feel about Constantine? Hannibal? Seigfreid? Demetri? Richard? Benedict? Bartolomeo? Ivan? Igor? Allistair? Barnabus? Atilla? Charlemagne? You look like you might possibly be a Khan of some kind or another — no? Well then, is it Eadwig? Hrothgar? Wulf? Could you be Frederick Barbarossa? Probably not, given that you don't have a fiery red beard — “

He apparently sensed that she was ready to keep guessing for an interminable length of time so he broke in.

“Matthias,” he said, raising both of his hands as if to ward her off. “My given name is Matthias. You may call me Doctor Eisenreich or Director Eisenreich. That’s what I prefer.”

She stopped listening at a part of the conversation that was convenient for her.

“Matthias,” she repeated, and it gave her a little thrill. “I suppose I’d have gotten through all the saints eventually. I like it,” she declared categorically. “Matthias Eisenreich. It has a good sound to it.”

He raised an eyebrow but his face was otherwise neutral. “I’m flattered that you approve of it, Miss Serraffield.”

“That won’t do, you know,” she said, clicking her tongue. “How am I going to get away with calling you Matthias and scandalizing positively everyone living and dead if you don’t call me Demi?” she wondered, chiding him.

“That’s simple,” he said flatly. “You will not get away with it.”

When she was about to puff out her cheeks and begin an inspired pout, a third person entered the room. Demi again expected her missing equerry (who was at that moment frantically searching the whole of the Seat of Law for her) but it was a pale, slender girl with dark eyes who appeared. Her long hair was a beautiful pinky-blonde and it flowed like silk behind her, with part of it tied up in two long twin tails, done up in ribbons. She was wearing a very elaborately ruffled white dress, one trimmed beautifully in lace and pearls. Two animals were following behind her, and the sight of them made Demi come to a full stop because she immediately recognized them as wolves.

They were not wolflike dogs.

They were not even wolf dogs.

There were wolflike dogs in the kennels at Forest Home: malamutes, huskies, shepherds, samoyeds, akitas. Demi had romped with them often. There were even a trio of wolfdog hybrids that her mother had rescued. She had also romped with the wolfdogs, once she had learned lessons of respect and restraint. Demi was interested in romping with every living thing that it was safe to romp with (and probably many that were not in any way safe to romp with).

On top of being a fan of all things that were alive, Demi had made an especial study of wolves when she had gone through a ‘wolfgirl’ phase after having seen a certain influential movie. At that time she had entertained romantic ideas of running off and being part of a wolf pack, and living in the wildwood, so she had done a lot of research in order to prepare herself for this undertaking.

(Although she would have certainly visited her human mother on weekends even if she had become *an the wolfdaughter. She was a conscientious girl.)

Therefore, Demi had the expert knowledge of an almost-wolfgirl. These two animals were neither dogs nor wolfdogs, although their coloration indicated that somewhere back in their lineage, they had been either crossed with dogs, or had been purposefully bred for domestication, favoring unusual coloration.

There were Lords of the Curia who kept wild animals as a personal hobby. There were whose who kept them as pets, and brought them on leash into public spaces, even massive animals like bears and tigers. She knew that. But still, it was surreal to see two wolves, a black one and a tawny red one, standing at the heel of a young girl in a frilly dress. They were neither leashed, nor collared, although they were both remarkably well mannered.

They did not seem to be her pets. She gave them no commands that Demi could discern. They acted as they acted at their own discretion. The black one was silently surveying the room as if keeping on guard for danger, while the red one was lazily watching her, with his mouth slightly open in a wolfy grin.

The two creatures seemed to be the girl’s friends, her escorts, her guardians.

The sight was moving to the almost-wolfgirl in Demi. Here was a real, authentic wolfgirl in the flesh, and she had become a wolfgirl without having to trade her frilly dresses for skins and paint her face with blood. It was a triumph.

The girl in the dress carried a ruffled parasol over one shoulder. All of it together — the girl with the parasol, her twin tails and lovely dress, and her guardian wolves — it was all a bit surreal, even given their environs.

The girl who was accompanied by wolves rapped the tip of her parasol on the floor twice. It was a neat, delicate sound.

“And so, Lord Eisenreich?” she asked. “Have you made your decision?”

Eisenreich folded his hands behind his back and turned to give the girl in white his full attention. He bowed his head briefly.

“I accept,” was all that he said, as if that was all that was needed.

The strange girl in white nodded herself, apparently satisfied with his answer.

“Then it is done,” she said. “Now I must go and inform the other parties of this turn of events.” As she turned to go, she looked at Demi very seriously and said, “I look forward to seeing exactly what you become Lady Serraffield, and exactly what becomes of you. I’ll see you in time.”

Not knowing what else to do, Demi curtseyed.

The girl gave her a brief, slow smile, and then she was gone on her way, the two wolves turning silently to follow her.

Demi was left feeling puzzled, even as her heart bid a fond farewell to the wolfgirl and her wolf friends.

“Who was that, and what was that all about?” she asked, leaning forward again and pitching her voice low, as if she worried they might be overheard. (By whom? They were now quite alone in the room again.) Demi was already treating Eisenreich as if they were longtime acquaintances and committed co-conspirators. She had cast him as her accomplice and now apparently expected that he was both duty bound to answer her questions and enthusiastic about doing so.

Fortunately for her, he did not seem terribly malcontent about the role he had been assigned, at least for the moment. He agreeably dispensed the information she had requested without any elaboration or embroidery.

“That was Lady Lunamaia, the Lord of Ashpodel,” he answered shortly, and Demi’s eyes widened. It was a name she recognized. Lunamaia was another of the great princes of the City of Metropoly, one of the twelve peers. Although invested with a huge amount of influence and authority, she rarely if ever made public appearances. It was startling to recognize that the current Lady Lunamaia was so young. She might have been a junior high school student.

Demi didn’t have time to dwell on this revelation, because Eisenreich continued. “As for what our exchange was about, it is simple. I gave my consent. I have accepted you as my squire until you are released at the time of your majority.”

Demi blinked and stared at him blankly.

“What?” she asked in confusion. She knew she was there at the Pinnacle to be assigned as a squire to one of the Lords of the Curia, but so far as she knew that assignment had been decided years ago and was to the Lord Lysander, a notable figure whose family had been allied with her own for generations. But although he was of considerable means and influence, he was certainly not one of the great princes of the City —

She needed to sit down.

“Surely you are aware that you were here at the Curia for no other purpose than to have your squiring assigned,” Eisenreich began, his mouth turned down at the corner.

“Yes, of course I know that,” Demi said in exasperation, going back to sit on the arm of the chair in a fit of pique. “But I didn’t think — that is, I didn’t know — it wasn’t supposed to be you,” she finished at last, her brow wrinkled and her eyes pleading.

What on earth does all of this mean? her heart was shouting.

She had no idea.

“You’re unhappy with the assignment then,” he stated flatly. It did not appear that he cared about her opinion on the matter one way or another. It was simply another observation.

“No!” It exploded out of her all at once, all her distress and exasperation. “Or yes, I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “No,” she said, opening her eyes. “I’m not unhappy with the assignment. I’m glad,” she said haltingly. “I’m flattered even. I’m honestly thrilled that you’ve decided to take me on as a squire. I’m only surprised, is all. Things are,” she struggled again, burying one of her hands in the hair near her temple. “Things are different is all, different from the way I’ve always been told.”

“Yes,” he said. “They are.”

A moment passed in stillness and he apparently collected himself.

He folded his hands behind his back again as he regarded her seriously.

“And now, Miss Serraffield, I must caution you,” the pitch of his voice was so low that it gave her a shiver just on its own. He had become, if it were possible, more serious, more grave. She scrambled from the chair and stood up straight, folding her own hands behind her back, and gave him her steady gaze. She could read the current in the room well enough to recognize that he now expected her full attention. He made a very quiet sound as she clasped her hands behind her back and faced him. It was brief, a whisper, something like a snort — had he laughed? That might have been such a miracle in itself that she didn’t even mind being the butt of whatever joke sparked his well-concealed sense of humor.

But he did not chuckle and he did not guffaw. He simply stood absolutely straight and looked at her heavily.

“I must caution you,” he repeated. “No matter what your experience has been in the past, you cannot be glib and irreverent with the brokers of power in this city, whether they be Lords of the Curia, or the prominent among the masses. It is reckless to count on good will in this place, and dangerous to depend on charm. You are young and attractive and intelligent, and your social position affords you some feeble immunity, but do not imagine that any of these attributes provide any real protection from the dangers that exist here. Be wary of who you attempt to befriend, and be wary of who takes interest in you. It will be years before you reach your majority and become a Lord of the Curia in your own right. At the moment, your position as a squire presents you with limited privileges and dangerous access to those who would eat you so much as look at you.” He closed his eyes briefly, then refocused his attention. “But by no means should you live your life in fear,” he said crisply, and it rang in the otherwise quiet room. “You are my squire and therefore under my protection, and I expect you to conduct yourself with tact and decorum, exhibiting neither prideful excess nor cowardice.” His mouth turned down at the corner. “Some people may allow your bad behavior. Some may even encourage it because they find it diverting, but they will always expect something in return for their indulgence. This is a dangerous City in which to find yourself beholden. I have allowed you to be familiar, here, in this place, because I wished to gauge your character and determine whether or not taking you as a squire might be at all worthwhile or simply a waste of time. What you must understand,” he said, bringing one of his heels down in a strike against the ground underfoot for emphasis, “Is that I will not tolerate this familiarity out in the world.”

My position dictates that I cannot tolerate it.

It was a commandment, sharply given, as plain as if he had cut it into rock. Demi heard the words that he implied with his heavy eyes as clearly as if he had spoken them.

He expected to be obeyed. His low, powerful voice exerted a pressure that she could feel on her skin. She had the startling impression that if she put her hands out, she might have run her fingers over the strange shape of his menace and warning. At that moment, he was terrifying in a way he had not been when he had caught her by the arm, or let her offer a dozen dizzy guesses in an attempt to suss out his birth name. At that moment she understood why her father’s equerry had looked like he would wet himself when he had discovered her idly chatting with this man.

She shifted her weight to the toes of her feet and trembled slightly with repressed energy. At that moment, she felt very much as if she wanted to run away, to run and run, away from the hard City which was just as terrible and dangerous as he had described, she knew, she knew, she knew it in her bones and marrow. She felt like she was groping around in the darkness, looking for the slivers of light that might mark out the shape of a door, so she could get away from the room where he watched her with such heavy eyes and such potent, terrible thoughts, away to the safety of the eaves of the Deep Wood, where at least the dangers were known.

But as powerful as her desire was to turn tail and run away, there was another desire flickering in her heart, like a candle sheltered from the night wind. She wanted to stay in this place that he threatened was fierce and dangerous. She wanted to stay in the shadow of this ominous, frightening man, to secret herself away, trembling and curious, and see what might happen.

What will you become? Lady Lunamaia had wondered, And what will become of you?

Curiosity killed the cat, she thought. But satisfaction brought it back. I am ready to spend all nine of my lives.

A door had closed behind her. All she had to do then, was to open another door.

She settled back on her heels and did her best to calm her rapidly beating heart.

“It is not as if I intend to leave you bereft, drifting in the sea with neither a paddle nor a rudder,” he said more neutrally, and she let out a breath that she didn’t know that she’d been holding. “I am now responsible for your development, and I will see that you are properly schooled,” he said. “I demand your respect and your attention, Miss Serraffield. If you offer these seriously, then I will see that you reach your majority well grown and appropriately experienced. If you do not — “ he warned ominously, “I am afraid I cannot guarantee your safety.”

He let the words settle into the stillness of the room, and they were both gilded by the rays of the setting sun as it hung low outside the window.

“Do you understand me?” he asked finally.

“Yes,” she said deliberately, then nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said with another slight noise, “Although you should know, Miss Serraffield, that I don’t actually expect you to stand at attention whenever I speak to you.”

Her rigid stance broke all at once and Demi trembled, leaning forward and covering her face with her hands. It looked a little as if she were having an attack of some kind, but Eisenreich was spared the worry over her condition when a wild tremble of giggles erupted out of her.

Her frantic tension had broken into the gentle surf of laughter. She laughed until she was breathless, then looked up at him, her cheeks rosy, pushing back the hair that had fallen into her face. “I am sorry, sir,” she admitted. “It’s just that I hadn’t even realized — “

“Yes,” was all he said. “I gathered.”

She took several deep breaths and managed to school herself again, running her hands back through her hair to straighten it. Despite her tendency to lapse into silly giggles, she actually had remarkable command of herself for a person so young and inexperienced.

“There is just one more thing sir,” she said, having gotten herself back in presentable order.

“Yes?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He seemed to say, Are you not yet satisfied?

“Thank you, sir,” she said sincerely, leaning forward in a half bow, her hand over her heart. “I’m in your care.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “You are.” Another moment passed in the golden stillness, but then he seemed to shake off the spell of the quiet room and turned toward the door. “Come along, Miss Serraffield, and we will locate your father’s people. I can’t leave everything to Lunamaia.”

Seeing that he intended to leave, she scuttled over to the window sill and hurriedly tucked her books away, back into her bag.

He paused at the door and held it wide, and after a moment of looking pointedly at her, she realized that he intended her to go before him.

It was a strange gesture. She had had doors held open for her all day long, one after another after another.

But this was the first time since Robert Grave had left her company that she felt it was a real courtesy.

She smiled at him, then scurried under his arm, leaving the jeweled Study of Eve behind her.