Page 14 of To Catch A Rogue

The tsarina was celebrating 121 years since her coronation, and highly-ranked political figures from around Europe had all been invited. While the figure was hardly an auspicious number, there were rumors that she was rapidly approaching the Fade—when all the color drained out of a blue blood and they started devolving into something far less human.

A vampire.

According to Gemma's intel, the tsarina was being forced by certain members of her cabinet into formally announcing an heir out of one of her impossible sprawl of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Apparently, the heir presumptive had had her favorite grandson murdered, which had seen him excluded from the succession, and now the rest of them were making power plays.

Nothing like waltzing into a quagmire of bloodthirsty politics to really keep one on their toes.

"Is Russia ready for me?" Charlie grinned, then reached out and brushed imaginary dust off Leo's shoulder. "You're looking rather diplomatic."

"And you... don't. Gemma tells me you're allegedly one of my aides. I hope you've packed something suitable for mincing around at court."

Charlie grimaced. "Gemma and Herbert have organized all aspects of our wardrobes. I'm sure it's suitably gaudy."

"Did someone say my name?"

As if summoned, Gemma appeared in a brisk whirlwind of action. She strode across the deck, clad in a dark blue velvet gown and tight jacket with a slash of skirt in pale mauve showing. A jaunty little hat sat at a cocky angle on her glossy black curls, and a choker of pearls caught his attention. It was the sort of outfit his sister, Lena, would have adored.

"You look lovely this morning." Gemma could probably wear a hessian sack and still have it look like it had been made for her. "Are we heading to a ball? My invitation must have gotten lost."

"As Lady Hollis Beechworth, who is accompanying Lord Barrons on this diplomatic mission, I have certain standards to maintain."

"Consider them maintained," Leo said smoothly.

"Now I see where you get it from. Well?" Gemma asked Charlie, bumping her shoulder against his. "Where's the last member of our team?"

"She'll come." He stared at the soft hint of dawn light in London's east, his fingers tapping on the airship's rail.

"We're leaving in an hour."

"She'll be here." He didn’t quite cross his fingers.

"She?" Leo asked.

"Lark."

Leo mouthed something speechlessly, and then laughed under his breath. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Why is it unexpected?" Gemma's gaze honed in on Charlie. "You told me she was an expert."

"She is."Thanks for nothing, brother.

"I wasn't aware Lark had made amends with you," Leo said diplomatically. "That's my only reason for surprise."

Gemma looked back and forth between them. "Amends?"

"Just a little misunderstanding, Gem," Charlie assured her.

"Is this going to be a problem?"

"Absolutely not. Lark knows the game as well as I do. She's intelligent, capable, and ruthless when she wants to be. She is—" His breath caught. "Here."

A shadow dissolved out of the other shadows on the docks. Lean and lithe, Lark always moved as though she slipped between air particles rather than merely walking. One part wraith, one part cat.

All dangerous.

Especially in a pair of trousers that showed off her legs, a gray waistcoat nipped in sharply at the waist, and a dark green velvet coat over the top that fit snugly enough to show she definitely wasn't male. Once upon a time, she'd worn baggy boys’ clothes that hung off her, but she seemed to have struck a balance between gentleman's attire and her burgeoning femininity.

Or maybe she was just intent on torturing him these days.