If she needed a wizard, and it seemed obvious that she did, her options had narrowed to one. The one she hated and whohated her in return—today more than ever, after her unkind jab about his father. Her only hope was that he might feel compelled, in the literal sense, to give some desperately needed advice.
She forced herself to her feet, tucked the contract into a coat pocket and slipped out the back door for a return trip through the forest.
Peter couldn’t puthis finger on why he felt a new sort of uneasiness—sharp anxiety in counterpoint to the dull ache he’d had in the pit of his stomach for months—until he heard the knock on the door and saw the state Miss Harper was in.
It wasn’t just her dreams that were his, then. Her emotions, too, at least the strong ones.
His own troubles were plenty enough without more piled on. He glared at her, saying nothing.
“Let me in,” she demanded, voice low and dangerous.
As he stepped aside to make way for her, he couldn’t resist a snide remark: “Problems with the conference already?”
“Yes,” she snapped, turning on him as he closed the door. “Did you have something to do with that?”
“Of course not.”
“Tell me the truth right now, Omnimancer, or it will harm my sister, her efforts with the League and the League itself.”
He had just a second to enjoy an uncharitable thought about her sister, her efforts with the League and the League itself before his mouth opened of its own accord.
“I had nothing to do with any problems at your conference and am unaware of what they might be,” he said, the words forced out of him. How far would his Vow reach? Could she demand anything of him short of letting her out of her own Vow?
She seemed to sag before his eyes, all the animating anger gone. “All right. I’m sorry. I didn’t really think you’d done it, but—well, have a look.”
She pulled several pieces of paper from her coat and handed him the top page. “Somehow, someone changed the date on the contract with the hotel hosting the conference so it appears we reserved it for the wrong weekend. This is our copy, which was locked in a safe. I checked the safe and contract for magical tampering—no signs of white.”
He glanced at the document, then back at Miss Harper.
“Can you think of anything—anything—I can do to prove this wasn’t our mistake?” she asked.
“The hotel is in on it, I assume?”
“Almost certainly.”
He bit back a curse. He didn’t have time for this. His own mess was in much greater need of fixing.
“If this conference doesn’t go on, all my sister’s work—our work—will be worse than wasted.” She stared at the floor, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “We will be completely discredited. Theremustbe something I can do.”
She glanced up and quickly looked away. He realized he was scowling.
“Order me to help you—please,” he said, remembering at the last second thatthiswould be an order without that crucial word tacked on.
She hesitated.
“Well?” he said, keeping his thoughts studiously blank.
“Assist me now or my sister, her efforts with the League and the League itself will be irreparably harmed.”
He waited for a feeling of compulsion. None set in.
“No,” he said.
As she turned toward the door, shoulders slumped, he added: “First, we’re eating at Reed’s—I’m starving. Then, and only then, will I go with you to this hotel.”
The look on her face would have been amusing if it didn’t speak volumes about her shock that he could, in fact, be a decent human being. Her “thank you” was faint, but her relief hit him so forcefully that he fell back a step.
He turned and all but stumbled into the receiving room, lightheaded. He came back out with his projector and camera.
