Easing a toe onto the battlefield, I chose my words carefully. “Are you…angry at me for not being angry?”
She scrubbed her heel over her cheek, leaving a streak of dirt on her face as she wiped her tears. “We killed Prince Ludovic’s wife.”
It wasn’t ideal, and only the gods knew what it meant for the timeline. But I couldn’t mourn a dead leech. “You have a tender heart, lass. There’s no shame in that.”
Portia made a frustrated sound. “You don’t understand. Ludovic is Halina of Krovnosta’s father. Halina is mated to my Uncle Bram. He’s my mother’s twin brother.”
I frowned. “I thoughtyouhad a twin brother.”
“I do. My mother is also a twin.” She put a hand on my chest, and a desperate look entered her eyes. “But that’s not the important part. What if I just messed up Halina’s future?”
I tried to connect all the threads she’d placed in front of me. Albie would have figured it out in seconds.
“You said the vampire we killed was married to Ludovic?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“So she could have been this Halina’s mother.”
“No, just a stepmother, but we’re in the 1920s. Halina hasn’t been born yet.”
My world tilted a little. We’d sped far into the future. Although, as far as Portia was concerned, we were still in the past.
“Halina is a dhampir,” she said. “Her mother was a human thrall. The vampire we killed tonight was probably the mother of her half-brother, Aleksander. He’s dead in my time, but he should be alive now. I think.” Portia frowned. “Oh gods, what if I set the Butterfly Effect in motion when I saved Mistress Drexel, andthatled to us coming here, and now?—”
“Slow down, lass,” I said, grabbing her shoulders. She snapped her mouth shut, and I gentled my tone as I cuppedher face. “If the vampire we killed wasn’t Halina’s mother, then maybe everything is all right.”
“We don’t know that,” Portia said.
“We also don’tnotknow it.”
Her brows drew together.
Footsteps approached. “It’s Albie,” I told Portia. I’d know his gait anywhere.
A second later, he rounded the end of the alley and rushed toward us, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright behind his spectacles.
“We’re inBucure?ti,” he said, rolling his R and putting ashsound on the S. “But I spoke with an Englishman who called it Bucharest.” He hooked a thumb toward the mouth of the alley behind him. “And I found us a hotel for the night.”
“A what?” I asked.
“An inn. The humans here call them hotels.” He spoke in a rush, his voice breathless. “This time is astounding, Tavish. There’s so much to see. And they harnessedlightning.” He cupped one hand over the opposite palm. “It’s light in a glass, and it’s everywhere, in all the buildings. You just switch them on, and it’s like daylight. You have to experience it.”
I couldn’t control my smile. “Later, darling. Right now, we have to get Portia into some dry clothes.”
He looked at her, instant contrition stamped on his features. “Of course. Come on. It’s not far.”
He led us through winding streets illuminated with thelightning in a glass. Even with dawn just beginning to spread over the city, the streets were busy. Humans bustled about, more than a few casting curious looks at our clothes.
“Here we are,” Albie said, gesturing to a tall building with rows of windows. It looked more like a palace than an inn, its white facade dominating one corner of the street.
“You’re certain this is the right place?” I asked, eyeing the balls of light that blazed atop metal poles stationed on either side of the marble stairs that led to glossy black doors. A human in a dark suit and matching cap observed us from the top step, a bewildered look on his face.
“Aye, I’m certain,” Albie murmured. He tucked Portia’s hand into his elbow, then urged me forward with his other hand on my arm. “Now, hurry up, Tavish, before we attract a crowd.”
The human raised his eyebrows as he opened the door, but he ducked his head when I held his stare. We entered a spacious chamber with polished marble floors and enough woodwork to fill a cathedral. More lights shimmered in glass bulbs, and a carved table held a porcelain vase full of colorful flowers. A pair of women in pleated dresses no thicker than a nightgown stopped in their tracks and stared, their painted lips parting.
I glowered at them, and they gasped and scurried off, their heeled shoes clicking rapidly on the marble.
