The driver looked at the marks, then at her before he vanished his fee and climbed up to the driver’s seat.

Roxie breathed a sigh of relief as the cab headed for the theater district. Thank the Darkness she’d used the illusion spell today and looked like a thousand other Dhemlan witches. While she wasn’t the only fair-skinned witch in Amdarh, the driver had studied the illusion’s face a little too long for comfort, so it was good he couldn’t tell anyone who had really been watching the town house.

As she watched the cab drive away, Surreal rolled her shoulders to release the tension. She couldn’t say why seeing the driver talking to his passenger had caught her attention—or why it had made her uneasy.

Shaking her head, she climbed the steps to the front door and walked into the town house. She’d barely gotten far enough into the entranceway to close the door before Helton rushed up, blocking her.

Hell’s fire. If the servants had heard the rumors—and believed them—things were going to get nasty.

“Lady Surreal,” Helton said. “The Prince and the Lady are not at home this evening.”

“Really?” Since she could feel Daemon’s presence, why the lie? Then she noticed the gleam in Helton’s eyes. “Ah. Where did they dine while they weren’t at home?”

“The Prince has not yet requested that dinner be sent up, Lady.”

“I see.” She looked at the staircase and grinned. Oh, she hoped it meant what she thought it meant.

She called in the small trunk she’d brought from the Hall. “When Lady Angelline is available, please see that she gets that trunk. It has the new clothes she purchased today. I think she’ll need them.” Her grin widened. “Eventually.”

Helton returned the grin before regaining his professional demeanor. “I’ll see to it personally.”

Dancing down the steps, she stood on the sidewalk, not sure what to do with herself. Standing in the middle of the street dancing and whooping would be fun but would require an explanation she didn’t want to give.

So she turned around with the intention of heading back to her rented suite for an indulgent dinner—and stifled a shriek as a large shape moved toward her.

Lucivar studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “If you’re not going to pay attention to your surroundings to the point where you don’t sense someone standing this close to you, you damn well better shield to protect yourself from an attack.”

“I’m not likely to be attacked in Amdarh,” Surreal snapped. But she glanced across the street to where that cab had stood. She shook off the hint of uneasiness and focused on the Warlord Prince in front of her. “What brings you to Amdarh?”

“Figured I’d better talk to Daemon,” Lucivar replied, moving toward the town house’s steps.