Trent straightened, surprised. “Mouse burger?”

“Mouse burger,” I stated again, arms crossed and hip cocked. “A weenie little man with the courage of a mouse.”

A faint smile quirked the corner of his lips. “That sounds funny coming from a woman who dated a rat.”

“He wasn’t a rat when we dated,” I shot back, face flaming.

Trent’s attention went to his image in the mirror, and he pulled the pin on the ley line charm to invoke it. A shimmer flared through his aura, making it visible for an instant as the illusion took over. I snorted; Trent now looked like he had gained twenty pounds of muscle, his coat seeming to bulge with the illusion. “I didn’t ask for your help with retrieving a sample of elven tissue,” he said, turning sideways to see himself and frowning at the result.

Behind me, Quen shifted uneasily. It was a small motion, but it rang through me like a gunshot. The request for help could have been Quen acting on his own. He’d done so before.

“Well, Quen did, then,” I said, knowing I was right when Trent’s attention flicked to the security officer through the mirror.

“Apparently,” Trent said dryly. “But I didn’t.” Grimacing, he felt his face. It looked like he’d been pumping iron, bulgy and ugly. “I don’t need your help. I will go into the ever-after myself and retrieve the sample. Ceri’s child will be healthy.”

I couldn’t stop my laugh at the mental image of Trent standing in the ever-after, and the man reddened. Relaxing, I slumped into one of the cushy chairs by the wine and cheese and sat with my feet spread wide. “I can see why you came to me,” I said to Quen. “You think you can handle the ever-after?” This was directed at Trent. “You wouldn’t last a minute. Not a freaking minute.” I eyed the cheese. I hadn’t eaten anything since this morning, and my mouth started to water at the sharp scent. “The wind might muss up your hair,” I said lightly.

Quen stepped from the door. “So you’ll go in his stead?”

Reaching for a cracker, I hesitated until Trent grimaced. But he hadn’t said I couldn’t have it, so I snapped the cracker in two and ate half. “No.”

Looking like a steroid poster boy, Trent frowned at Quen. “Morgan doesn’t need to be involved in this.” His gaze went to me. “Rachel. Leave.”

As if I ever do anything he tells me to do?