Damen interpreted Laurent's silence as continued irritation, the time he'd spent out clearly not having much of an affect upon his mood or his upset with Damen's decisions regarding Erasmus.

And then several things occurred at once: Damen sighed and something cool pressed against his cheek and voice that most certainly did not belong to Laurent sounded through the room. Damen's eyes snapped open and he jerked, the movement enough to press the blade against his cheek cutting through skin.

'Dutch,' he breathed, his blood cold with shock.

It took only a moment longer to realize the Dutch above him was not the Dutch he considered a friend, but one from the other city. The one he'd met only a week or so previous. It wouldn't take much to disarm and overwhelm her, but Damen stayed as he was, a trickle of blood slithering down his cheek. Dread pooled hot in in his belly. 'What have you done with him?'