building, until we came to a door, no different from the ones we had passed, except this one had a guard in front of it—a rough-looking brawny type with his arms casually crossed. Just casual enough to let his fingers hang over his pistol grip. He didn’t budge when we came up.
“It’s all right,” the Duke of Rdenrundt said, with what I swear was a peevish tone. “He’s with me.”
“Gotta search him anyway,” the guard said. “Orders.”
More and more interesting. Who issued orders the Count couldn’t change—in his own castle? As if I didn’t know. And I recognized the guard’s voice, he was one of the men who had taken me from my prison cell. He searched me quickly and efficiently, then stepped aside. The Count opened the door and I followed him in, trying not to tread on his heels.
One thing about reality—it is always so much superior to theory. I had every reason to believe that Angelina would be here, yet it was still a healthy shock to see her sitting at the table. A kind of electric charge in my spine tingled right up to the roots of my hair. This was a moment I had waited for for a very long time. It took a positive effort to relax and appear indifferent. At least as indifferent as any healthy young male is in front of an attractive package of femininity.
Of course this girl didn’t resemble Angelina very much. Yet I still had no doubt. The face was changed as was the color of the hair. And though the face was a new one it still held the same sweet, angelic quality as the old. Her figure was much the way I remembered it, with perhaps a few slight improvements. Hers was a surface transformation, with no attempt at being as complete as the one I had had done to me.
“This is Grav Bent Diebstall,” the Count said, fixing his hot and smoky little eyes on her. “The man you wanted to see, Engela.” So she was still