She held Robin on her lap protectively as she spoke, while she glared first at Nikolas then at Gawain, who replied with quiet courtesy, “You have every right to feel the way you do, after what just happened. What can we do to convince you?”

She compressed those luscious, sensual lips of hers. Then in a tight voice, she asked, “Did either of you have anything to do with a nasty spell I encountered while I was walking into town?” She looked at Gawain. “You know what I’m talking about. I saw you slow down on your bike and study the area where it landed.”

Gawain’s expression changed. “You were there when I was?”

“Yes.” She looked down at the creature in her lap. “Both—what is his name, Robin?—and I were.”

“I had no idea,” he murmured as if to himself. “I didn’t sense you at all.”

Her mouth quirked. “That’s because I didn’t want you to.”

She was cocky, Nikolas would give her that. Absently he twisted the signet ring on his ring finger while he listened to their exchange. Sophie’s attention dropped to the movement.

He told her abruptly, “The woman who created that spell is our mortal enemy. She’s the one who is trying to destroy us.”

For the first time, Sophie regarded him without anger or distaste. Gently she pulled one of the dog’s ears to the side, revealing its bony, blistered neck. She said, “That spell was woven into a broken silver rope tied around Robin’s neck.”

“Is that what happened?” Nikolas asked the puck. “Did the Queen imprison you?” The puck remained silent. “Robin? Why aren’t you speaking?”

The dog opened its mouth and showed him. In the recess where a tongue should be, there was only a stump.

Nikolas clenched his teeth. Gawain swore under his breath. Sophie blanched visibly while horror darkened her eyes. She whispered, “Earlier when I fell asleep, I dreamed about being in a cage while they tore out my tongue and threw it on a fire.”

Nikolas tried telepathy. Robin. Tell me what happened to you.

The puck gave no indication that he heard. Tilting his head back, he watched Sophie’s face unwaveringly, like the dog he appeared to be.

Aloud, Nikolas said, “He’s not talking telepathically either. I’m not even sure I connected with him.”

An odd expression crossed Sophie’s face, and a small, bitter smile twisted her lips. She murmured, “He’s nonverbal, possibly trauma induced. Hopefully he’ll recover his language as he heals. I’ve known it to happen.”

As they talked, Arran walked up to their table, carrying a tray. He looked at Nikolas. “Everyone else has been served, my lord, just as you requested. What can I bring you? Drinks and supper?”

Nikolas glanced at Gawain, who said, “A half hour is almost up. Either we need to split up, or we can see what this young lady might be able to do for us.” Gawain turned to Sophie. “I don’t want to be forced to leave before we’ve finished this conversation. I’ll volunteer for your spell if you would be so kind to cast it.”

Every muscle in Nikolas’s body tensed. It went against all his instincts to trust a stranger to put a spell on one of them, especially when he had clashed with her before, and even now, she held a creature he had never entirely trusted on her lap as they talked.

Then he looked at Robin again, at the protruding bones underneath the thin skin, and the filmy look in eyes had that once snapped with dark sparks of intelligence and mischief. The puck looked ruined, and Nikolas did not think Robin would sit so trustingly on the lap of someone who had been involved in what had happened to him.

He also noticed the gentle protectiveness in the way Sophie curled her hand around the dog’s shoulder, and he remembered how she had stood up to both him and Gawain in defense of what she had thought was an abused pet.

That took courage and decency.

Sophie had noticed his tension and hesitation. “While I appreciate that I frighten you deeply, you can relax,” she said in a sour aside to him. “It’s just a spell drawn with magic-sensitive colloidal silver. It’ll rinse off with water, or you can spit on it and rub it off on your jeans in a pinch. You don’t have to carry an amulet, and there’s no damage done. And it will last for hours, if you want it to, as long as you don’t work up a sweat.”

At her sarcasm, antagonism flared, hot and bright, but he held himself in a clench because Gawain had been right. They had been too long at war, and all his responses to conflict were violent and deadly.

She must have seen it in his eyes, along the dangerous way his body was coiled as if to strike, because her expression flickered and she edged away from him. She hadn’t blinked or flinched before that moment.

Nikolas dismissed her before he did something he couldn’t take back and turned his attention to Arran, who was still waiting. He told the pub keeper, “Bring us Guinness and supper. Whatever your special is for the evening will do.”

“Very good, my lord.” The pub keeper slipped away.

“I don’t know if I like Guinness,” Sophie said. “I’ve never had it before. And I’m not sure I want to sit here and try to choke down food with you two watching me. Thanks for asking, asshole.”

“For the love of all the gods, you stupid woman,” Nikolas said between his teeth. “Is that petty point really what you want to focus on right now?”

He didn’t realize he had spoken in the old tongue until he saw the incomprehension in her face. Gawain coughed quietly into one hand and nudged him under the table with one foot.