The noise from the waterfall had quickly retreated into an unnoticed background babble, and the stillness of the room soaked into me. There were no attendants, no one moving through the room on other business, not even one holiday candle or dish of sweets. It was as if the room was caught under a storybook spell, waiting to be woken. I didn’t think the room had been used for what it was designed for since Trent’s father died. Eleven years was a long time to be silent.

Feeling peace in the quiet of the room, I took a slow breath and turned to find Jonathan eyeing me with obvious distaste. The faint tension in his jaw sent my eyes to where Quen had vanished. A faint smile quirked the corner of my mouth. “Trent doesn’t know you two cooked this up, does he?” I said. “He thinks Quen is going with him tonight.”

Jonathan said nothing, the twitch in his eye telling me I was right. Smirking, I dropped my shoulder bag to the floor beside the couch. “I bet Trent could throw a hell of a party,” I prompted, hoping for something. Jonathan was silent, and I wove past a low coffee table to stand with my hands on my hips to look out the “window.”

My breath made the sheet of ever-after ripple. Unable to resist, I touched it. Gasping, I jerked my hand back. An odd, drawing sensation pulled through me, and I clutched my hand within the other as if I’d been burned. It was cold. The sheet of energy was so cold that it burned. I looked behind me to Jonathan, expecting to see him smirking, but he was staring at the window, his long face slack in surprise.

My gaze followed his, my stomach tightening as I realized the window wasn’t clear anymore, but swirling with amber shades of gold. Damn. It had taken on the color of my aura. Clearly Jonathan hadn’t expected this. My hand ran through my short hair. “Ah … Oops.”

“What did you do to the window?” he exclaimed.

“Nothing.” I took a guilty step back. “I just touched it, that’s all. Sorry.”

Jonathan’s hawklike features took on more ugliness. Steps long and jerky, he strode to me. “You hack. Look what you did to the window! I will not allow Quen to entrust Mr. Kalamack’s safety to you tonight.”

My face warmed, and finding an easy outlet for my embarrassment, I let it turn to anger. “This wasn’t my idea,” I snapped. “And I said I was sorry about the window. You should be lucky I’m not suing for pain and suffering.”

Jonathan took a loud breath. “If he comes to any harm because of you, I’ll—”

Anger flashed through me, fed by the memory of three days in hell as he tormented me. “Shut up,” I hissed. Ticked that he was taller than me, I stepped up onto a nearby coffee table. “I’m not in a cage anymore,” I said, keeping enough presence of mind not to poke him in the chest with a finger. His face went startled, then choleric. “The only thing between your head and my foot becoming real close and personal right now is my questionable professionalism. And if you ever threaten me again, I’ll slam you halfway across the room before you can say number-two pencil. Got it, you tall freak of nature?”