The Dream Thief Read Online Free PDF

added as an
afterthought.
    He turned. “Is that why you
summoned me here?”
    “No. It’s merely a bit of
information I thought you might wish to have.” She took a sip of tea. “I would
certainly never mean to imply that someone should go and relieve the son of a
bitch of his gold before he has the chance to profit from it.”
    She
smiled at him over the rim of her cup.
    “Ah,
Lady Langford. Sometimes I do miss your wisdom.”
    “I am
gratified to hear it.” He accepted the drink she offered, taking his seat in a
chair. Rue Langford leaned back against her silk-striped cushions, both old and
young, ever lovely in her dark and glittering way.
    “And
how is the family?” Zane asked.
    “Excellent. Rhys and Kim are off
examining wheat fields and rye. Audrey’s with her sister—you missed the
wedding, that was very bad of you. Joan was looking forward to having you
there.”
    “Was
she?”
    “I
believe she rather hoped you’d ride up on your stallion and sweep her from the
altar.”
    “I
haven’t got a stallion,” he pointed out.
    “More’s the pity,” Rue sighed.
“It definitely would have livened up the affair.”
    They shared another smile, this
one far more wry. Even if he had been so inclined—which he definitely was
not—the mere thought of a romantic entanglement between a daughter of the leader
of the drákon and a human male would send these animal-edged creatures
into a frenzy. Zane knew their boundaries and respected them, if for no other
reason than he preferred his hide intact.
    The tea in his hand was hot,
aromatic. He gazed down into the steam. “And Amalia?”
    “Amalia,” echoed Rue, in a
slightly less easy voice. “Yes. She’s in Scotland.”
    He
raised his eyes, astonished.
    “I know,” said the marchioness.
“It took a great deal of effort to convince the council to allow her to go. But
she wanted it very badly. She’s at the Wallence School for Young Ladies, in
Edinburgh. It’s most respectable. We go up and visit thrice a season.”
    He set the tea aside. “After what
the council did to you for leaving—”
    “Yes,” she interrupted, hard.
“After that, you may be certain I took good care that my daughter would be well
protected from them.” Her nails clicked against the china cup, restless. “But
she is Giftless, so she matters to them less. I suppose the odds were at least
one of my children would be. My own Gifts came late, but Lia hasn’t displayed
even the most rudimentary signs of the drákon, not strength, not
heightened senses or stealth or any hint of the Turn—” She broke off, drawing a
slower breath. “It’s not so unusual for a female of the tribe to be born
without Gifts. These days, it’s rather more normal than not.”
    Her skirts rustled. She shifted
on the settee, and he realized she was not quite so comfortable as she first
appeared.
    “We thought it best if she got to
have a taste of the world before being fixed in her place back here. This is
her final quarter, in any case.”
    “I’m sure it pleases her very
well,” he said, after a moment.
    “Yes,” agreed Rue, composed
again. “French and Latin and court manners. I’m sure it does.”
    He did
not hear the double doors behind him open—the footmen here were as silent as
the rest of them—but the air grew cooler, and the chandelier sent out a fresh
rainbow of sparks. The marquess entered, golden-haired, unsmiling, walking to
his wife and bowing over her hand; he slanted Zane a shorter look.
    “Langford,”
Zane greeted him, without bothering to rise.
    Christoff Langford inclined his
head. If Zane had a surname, no doubt the other man would be pleased to snarl
it, but as it was, they only ever exchanged nods.
    “Have
you told him?” he asked his wife.
    “Not
yet. I was waiting for you.”
    The marquess dropped down beside
Rue, draping an arm around her shoulders, examining Zane with a banked,
green-eyed hostility.
    “Pilfered
anything recently?” his lordship inquired,