Two hours later found Damien standing in a little room with nine other guys. No chairs had been provided, no food or drinks either. When he and Lane arrived several of the guards had tensed, but they made no overt moves. Lane went right through a second door to join the barons. He’d caught a glimpse of a large table surrounded by leather chairs before the door closed.

Lane had guts going in there, even with his shield protecting her. He respected that. She’d gotten a lot friendlier since Allentown. Damien didn’t know who’d been more surprised when she walked in on him carrying the girl. He’d almost dropped her when he saw Lane standing there in just her tunic, her legs bare from mid-thigh. Maybe it was her way of making up for walking in on him when he was washing up.

A little smile curled his lip. He appreciated the gesture.

“Want to let us in on the joke?” Sloan had made his way across the empty room to stand beside Damien.

“No. Say, aren’t we a man short?” Damien looked around as though trying to spot the dead guard.

Sloan grimaced. “Dade was sweet on one of the serving girls. Looks like they ran off.”

Damien nodded. “Not very professional.”

“No. What about your charge? Did she sleep well?”

Damien shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “She didn’t complain. That’s all I care about.”

“I hear you. I swear Trasker is always bitching about something. The room’s too hot or too cold. The food doesn’t suit him. You’d think I was the man’s valet instead of his bodyguard.”

Sloan was trying to act natural, but the question about Lane and the fact that Dade shouted for him made a lie of the act. With a supreme act of willpower Damien restrained himself from blasting Sloan to ash. “I’ve never been assigned to guard a nobleman. From the sounds of it I don’t want to either.”

“Ha! You got that right, kid. The sooner this meeting ends and I can dump the old fart off on his own people the better.”

The meeting went on for three hours before they broke for lunch. No poison was included with the food and an hour after the meal they went back to it. Damien tried to stay sharp, but damn it was boring standing around the empty little room. After his initial chat with Sloan none of the other guards approached him.

Finally, late in the evening, an exhausted Lane staggered out of the meeting room. “We’re done, and I’m beat. Let’s go.”

Damien escorted her back to their rooms. Neither of them spoke until he raised a sound barrier. “How’d it go?”

She sighed and slumped down on the edge of his bed. “We chased our tails for eight hours. They argued minor, meaningless points to death. None of them seemed to have come to a consensus about what they actually want the king to do. It’s like they don’t want a deal at all.”

“Did they seemed surprised to see you?”

“No. If any of them knew about the poison they’re excellent actors.”

Damien frowned and paced around the room. What in heaven’s name was going on here? “How did you leave it with the barons?”

“We’re going to try again tomorrow afternoon. I frankly can’t see much point, but I’ll do my best given the alternative.”

The alternative wasn’t what she imagined, but he’d give her one more day before he carried out his orders.