The throne room was not what I expected. Sure, there was a dais with a chair on it, just like in the movies, but the rest of the room was in a state of disarray. A large space ran through the middle, for dancing or processions, perhaps, but the rest had an almost lounge sort of look. Small couches, chaises, and chairs were arranged around low tables set with goblets and platters of fruit. Men and women, again dressed in sort of a goth-Renaissance style, draped themselves on the furniture and on each other, picking idly at the fruit as they watched me. I was put in mind of the way Romans used to dine.

More than gentry lounged around, however. Spirits and sprites and trowes and wraiths were also in attendance, along with an assortment of Otherworld creatures. The monsters of human imagining, side by side with magical refugees who had immigrated to this world.

I wondered then if any other shaman had been this far into gentry society. I remembered Roland’s warning, that I could be taken right into the heart of their world. If only our kind had some sort of scholarly journal. The Journal of Shamanic Assassination and Otherworldly Encounters. I could have used this “research” to write a compelling article to share with my fellow professionals.

Conversation dropped to a low hum as the gentry leaned over and whispered to each other, eyes on me. Smirks and scowls alike lit their faces, and I put on the blank expression I would wear going to meet a new client. Meanwhile, my pulse raced into overdrive and breathing became a bit difficult.

Volusian trailed near me on one side while Rurik walked on the other. Wil and the others moved behind us.

“Why all these people?” I murmured to Volusian. “Is he having a party?”

“Dorian is a social king. He likes keeping people around, most likely so he can mock them. He keeps a full court and regularly invites his nobles to dine here.”

We came to a stop. On the throne sat a man, Dorian, I presumed. He looked bored. He leaned into the arm of his chair, one elbow propped on it so he could rest his chin in his hand. It sort of made him view us at an angle. Long auburn hair, reminiscent of the trees outside, hung around him, highlighted with every shade of red and gold conceivable. He could have been autumn incarnate. He had the most perfect skin I’d ever seen in such a vivid redhead: smooth and ivory, with no freckles or rosy color. A cloak of forest-green velvet covered unremarkable dark pants and a loose, white button-up shirt. He had well-shaped cheekbones and delicate features.

“Kneel before the king,” ordered Rurik, “and get used to being on your knees.”

I gave him a withering glance. He smiled.

“I’ll be happy to make you,” he warned.

“Bah, enough. Leave her in peace,” intoned Dorian laconically. He didn’t change posture. Only his eyes portrayed any sort of interest in these goings-on. “If she’s been with you for the last hour, she deserves a break. Go sit down.”

Rurik’s smugness flashed to embarrassment, but he bowed before the throne and backed off. That left Dorian and me staring at each other. He grinned.

“Well, come here. If you won’t kneel, I at least want to get a good look at the ‘terrible monster’ they’ve brought to me. They all seem quite afraid of you. I confess, I didn’t really believe it was you when they told me. I thought Rurik had been into the mushrooms again.”

“Do you know how many of our people she has killed and forcibly banished, sire?” exclaimed Shaya from somewhere behind me. “She took out three in under a minute just now.”

“Yes, yes. She’s quite terrifying. I can see that.” Dorian looked at me expectantly.

I shook my head. “I’m not moving until you offer us hospitality.”

This made him sit up. He kept smiling. “She’s clever too, though, admittedly, asking for hospitality before you crossed our humble threshold would have been more clever still since any of my subjects could have attacked you just now.” He shrugged. “But we’ve made it this far. So, tell me, Eugenie, why-er, wait. Do you prefer Eugenie or Miss Markham?”

I considered. “I prefer Odile.”

That smile twitched. “Ah. We’re still clinging to that, are we? Very well, then, Odile, tell me what brings the shining ones’ most feared enemy to my door, asking for hospitality. As you might imagine, this is without precedence.”

I glanced around at all the watching, listening people. Ignore them, ignore them, an inner voice whispered. Focus on Dorian for now. “I don’t really want to talk about it in front of the peanut gallery. I’d rather meet with you in private.”

“Oh.” He pitched his voice for the crowd. “Well, well. Odile wants to meet with me in private.”

I blushed, hating myself for doing it. Nervous laughter ran around the room, soon growing stronger and more confident as the king’s did. Interesting, I thought. I remembered Volusian’s comments about Dorian, and his soldiers’ hesitation about his wrath. These gathered people were sheep, obviously, ready to dance or laugh at Dorian’s command, but suddenly I wondered if they were sheep who also feared the whims of their capricious shepherd. I wondered if I should be afraid too.

I kept my silence, not acknowledging his joke. He leaned forward, putting both elbows on his knees, letting his chin rest in both hands now. “If I offer you hospitality, you must reciprocate in kind. I’ll see that no one harms you in my household, but in return, you can harm no one under my roof.”

I glanced back at Volusian. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he hissed, displaying a rare loss of patience. “What did you expect? Take it before your imminent death becomes more imminent and robs me of my chance to kill you myself.”

I turned back to Dorian. I didn’t like this turn of events. I didn’t like being in a nest of gentry, nor did I want to be at one’s mercy. Why was I here again? In my head, I summoned an image of little Jasmine Delaney, imagining her being tormented in a similar way over at Aeson’s court. Only she would be subject to more than just mockery.

“I accept,” I said.

Dorian regarded me in silence and then nodded. “As do I.” He looked up at the crowd. “Odile Dark Swan is now under the protection of my hospitality. Anyone who so much as lays a finger on her will get his own fingers chopped off and fed back to him.” He issued the threat with as much cheer as Volusian might have.

A buzz spread through the crowd, not entirely pleased. “What’s to keep her from breaking her oath?” I heard someone mutter. Another said loudly, “She could slay us all!”

Dorian’s eyes flicked back to me. “Did you have any idea what a creature of nightmare you are around here? Mothers tell their children Odile Dark Swan will come for them if they’re bad.”

“Hey, I don’t seek them out. I only come for them if they come for me first.”

“Interesting,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “But if that’s how you like it, so be it. I always admire women who know what they want in the bedroom.”

“Hey, that’s not what I-” I hadn’t realized the extent to which our slang had permeated the gentry world. Theirs was a reflection of my own; things seeped through.

He cut me off with a gesture. “I gave you hospitality, now come up here. I want to see the terror that haunts the darkness.”

I hesitated, both from distrust and defiance to his taunting. Volusian’s voice whispered in my ear. “He will not harm you now that he’s given his word.”

“I don’t know if I can really believe that.”

“I do.” My minion’s voice was calmly serious. “You know I can’t lie to you.”

Turning back to Dorian, I took the steps until I stood at the same level as his chair. I met his gaze evenly. “Look at those eyes,” he sighed happily. “Like violets in the snow. You smell like them too.”

Beyond us, I heard another rise of murmurs in the crowd.

“What’s got them all worked up now?” They couldn’t hear our discourse.