Under the Table

Casey hadn’t expected to be standing in the hallway, dripping with tea, biscuits, and cream smeared across her front. And yet, that is exactly where she stood. The tray she’d carefully prepared dangled limply one hand as she stared at the quickly retreating man.

Tierston.

Tierston, who Casey had carefully courted, invited, entreated to join their cause, now dashed quickly for the exit. What had gone wrong between when she’d left him to review the plan and now?

Donford stopped beside her, his nose scrunching in the manner it did when he was guilty. Casey glanced from him, worried if she stared too long, she’d become enraged.

“What happened?” Casety asked in as level a voice as she could muster.

Donford shrugged. “I kept him in the room. I kept him looking through materials. Just like you requested.”

“If you’d done what I’d requested, this wouldn’t be happening.” Casey gestured toward the empty hall. The tray went flying to clatter against the wall and down to the floor. She winced. The sound contributed to her building headache. “I had everything laid out on the table.”

Donford winced. “He looked at what was under the table.” The words came out in a hurried rush.

Casey turned toward the room. The table in question lay covered with a heavy brocade. “He looked under.” Her skin chilled as a slight thump billowed the fabric.

Casey sighed and rubbed her temples. She had prepared everything, and one dragonling proved more than she could control.