Rogue's Pawn by Jeffe Kennedy Page A

nonthreatening enough to be underestimated.”
    “Not unlike Ground Rule One.”
    “Lady Gwynn, it’s a banquet. You will have to eat. You’ll also need your strength.” Rogue trailed his finger down my cheekbone again, but I batted it away. Too distracting.
    “Stop that. And I’m not a lady and my name isn’t Gwynn.”
    He waved that remark away. “You don’t know who you are. Here, eat.”
    Perversely, I liked the impatient dictatorial Rogue better than the coaxing seductive one. It was true I was going to have to eat at some point. And for all that this magical place wasn’t the real world, it also wasn’t the Underworld where I could exist only in spirit. Easy not to eat when you didn’t have, oh, say, a body to keep alive.
    “I’ll eat at the banquet—food I see other people eating. Nothing—” I pointed at the tray, “—especially prepared for me.”
    Rogue glared at me. The tray vanished from his hand.
    “Nice parlor trick.”
    “Meant to demonstrate that food can be altered on its way to your mouth, if a sorcerer desired.”
    “A sorcerer like you?”
    “Any that wished to.”
    “Nevertheless,” I said, “a girl has to have some standards.”
    “Fine.” Rogue strode to the door. “Shall we?”
    “I get two more ground rules.”
    “We’ll cover them on the way—it will take a few minutes to walk to the banquet hall.”
    “Can’t you just poof us there?”
    Rogue raised that eyebrow at me and held up an arm, every debutante’s dream escort.
    Sighing, I laid my hand on his forearm. Wiry muscle flexed under the black velvet. We walked out into a short hallway, more gray stones, torches burning merrily in sconces. Then we started down circular stairs. A tower. Of course—where else did you keep prisoners?
    “Ground Rule Three. Don’t ask questions about magic. Don’t act surprised by anything you might see. No one is sure where you come from, what kind of abilities you have. All they know is you are powerful, you lost control and must be taught. Be mysterious.”
    Mysterious was not my forte, but I could try. Seemed as though keeping my mouth shut as much as possible was a safe bet.
    “Understood?”
    “Yep, practicing being mysterious and closed-mouthed now.”
    “Unprecedented.”
    “Ha-ha.”
    Rogue grinned down at me and my damn heart lurched. I must be just starved for attention. We emerged from the tower stairs. I hadn’t been able to track the number of turns, but it had to be four to five floors’ worth, a nice tall tower for prisoner-keeping. A wider gallery opened before us. Arched windows ranged along one side, looking down into an interior courtyard. No fog—wasn’t that interesting? It looked to be evening now, with torchlit windows glowing across the way.
    “Final ground rule.” Rogue paused. I could barely hear the rush of his thoughts as he chose his words. I wasn’t going to like this one. “Make the best bargain you can, but watch the wording.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Just that. And remember to keep your thoughts to yourself—half the people here could hear them without trying, and quite a few can hear all they want to with a little effort.”
    “Ooh, would that be a fifth ground rule?”
    “Common sense—I don’t have to remind you to keep breathing, do I?”
    We turned the corner and huge wooden doors swung open before us. A brightly lit banquet hall lay inside with a fireplace big enough for ten of me to stand in. People dressed to resemble jewels and flowers turned as one to stare at me. I wished I didn’t look like an éclair without icing.
    Especially when Nasty Tinker Bell swept up, barely draped in strapless gold cloth. It looked as though her pert nipples were all that held up the top. I tried not to look too hard. Could it be Super Glue?
    “Welcome to our banquet, Lady Gwynn,” Tinker Bell chimed. “We’ve been so bored, waiting for our guest of honor.”
    “Lady Gwynn,” Rogue said, “may I present Lady Incandescence, whom I believe