She let out a low chuckle and bumped my leg with her hip. “The mantle can help you with that, you know. Kind of…keep you frosty.”
“Also going to be distracting as hell,” I said. “Better to keep a clear head around Lara.”
“Okay,” she said. “Just…look, if you need some cover, or a distraction, just rap the staff on the ground, okay? I’ll run interference for you.”
I exhaled again slowly and nodded to her. “Thanks, Molls. For…getting it.”
“I’ve been there. You’ve got this.”
I nodded and squared my shoulders. Partygoers were going around us down the entry hall, giving us looks as they went by. Not many people were in full costumes. Most of them were in little black dresses with vaguely suggestive masks, or tuxes with a pair of horns, that kind of thing. Amateurs.
I offered Molly my arm, and she slipped her hand through it. Then we proceeded deeper into the house.
Rows of lit candles led us down hallways and staircases to a gallery overlooking a grand mirrored ballroom, where music was already playing, and where couples were already filling the dance floor. The flow of incoming people pooled at the top of the stairs, where a tall man with an excellent resonant basso voice was announcing each arrival by reading names off of invitations. We got in line and went to the top of the stairs leading down to the dance floor.
“Lady Molly, Queen of the Winter Court,” read the master of ceremonies. “And Harry Dresden, the Winter Knight.”
Spotlights flared abruptly, blinding me for a few seconds, and I muttered grumpily under my breath. Molly squeezed my arm rather tightly, and I could feel the wary tension lining her whole body. But she gave a dazzling smile, inclined her head, and we descended the stairs together.
Waiting at the bottom of the stairs in an all-black tux was a blade-lean redheaded woman with long hair shaved up high on the sides. She gave me a friendly and genuine-enough grin and fetched Molly a politebow. “Lady Molly,” she said. “And everyone’s favoriteseidrmadr. How’s it hanging, Dresden? I hear you headbutted some ghouls.”
“Bunch of pansies,” I said. “Molly, this is Freydis, Lara’s security specialist.”
“Hello, Freydis,” Molly said. “It seems you can’t swing a cat without hitting a Valkyrie these days.”
She flashed Molly a predatory grin. “We live in interesting times. Lara’s asked me to escort you both to her. Follow me, please.”
I gestured for her to lead on, and we followed her around the dance floor.
White Court shindigs are…not terribly subtle. There weren’t a ton of people there who weren’t pretty enough to be painted, male or female. The vast majority were terribly young, by which I meant under thirty. I wasn’t exactly in spring chicken territory anymore. Everyone was dressed to show off, the dancing like the night before a world war, and everyone was in a party mood. You could smell weed in the air, and there were plenty of other substances being passed around and used in one corner of the ballroom at…good grief, at a literal champagne waterfall.
There were plenty of White Court vampires present. You could tell from the white skin, the dark hair, and the hungry silver eyes. They were generally surrounded by mortals, passing them more champagne, or pills, or smoldering rolled cigarettes of God knew what chemicals. I recognized half a dozen I’d encountered in the past—and felt the weight of their eyes settle on me as I went by.
“You’ll have to excuse them,” Freydis said, smirking. “They’re not used to the idea of one of their kind settling on one partner exclusively, much less Lady Lara. You’ve become singularly interesting to them.”
“Mmmm,” I said. “Meaning that they score points against her if they can seduce me,” I said.
“Something like that,” Freydis agreed. “And of course, everyone goes a little hungry before a gathering like this. The better to feast. Here, the alcove.”
Freydis led us to an alcove in the wall, screened off by a wall of gentlymisting fog and a pair of forbidding-looking bodyguards. She nodded at the two men and one of them nodded back, waving us by. We followed Freydis into the fog, past some curtains, and the sound of the music was greatly muted.
“Lady Lara,” Freydis said politely. “The Winter Lady and Knight.”
Lara swayed out of the mist, dressed as Galadriel from the motion pictures. She’d coordinated with Molly. Of course she made a stunning platinum blonde, in a long gossamer gown, her feet in silver sandals, jewels in her hair and sparkling at her ears and throat. Silver jewelry wound up her wrists and forearms to the elbow. It matched the hungry gleam of her eyes.
“Wow,” Molly said, without sarcasm.
“Welcome, Lady Molly,” Lara said. She gave her a smile that was just a trace pained. “I know things have been awkward. I hope it won’t keep us from establishing a good working relationship.”
Molly inclined her head. “I’m sure we have our priorities sorted properly, Lady Lara,” she said smoothly.
It didn’t get any less awkward.
Lara turned to me and smiled. “All things considered, I would have thought you’d have gone for Gandalf the White. What with mostly dying and so on.”
I waggled my chin, a motion greatly exaggerated by the long false beard. “But then I couldn’t do this.”
“Priorities,” Lara said archly, mirth dancing at the corners of her mouth.
