Damon's gaze flew to Bentley's face.

“Here?” “At the mouth of the alley. She was wearing a black velvet cloak, obviously trying to go unrecognized.”

“You're sure?”

“Jansen followed her from her hotel. He couldn't be more sure.”

Zack turned away to hide his expression from Perry, whose eyes revealed unabashed curiosity about this situation. It would take little encouragement, Zack knew, to cause Perry to unleash that curiosity in a barrage of questions. Perry wasn't at all intimidated by him, as most other people seemed to be, and most of the time Zack appreciated that quality in his assistant as much as his loyalty. But not in this particular matter. “How did she get here?”

“A taxi. She had it waiting for her around the corner from the thater.”

“A taxi!” Zack muttered a brief, explicit curse that caused Perry to lift his brows in surprise. “What the hell is her brother thinking of to let her go running around the world without security?”

“Princess Rubinoff has the best security that money can buy,” Perry reminded him mildly.

“But good King Stefan doesn't know that.”

The savage tone of voice Zack used caused Perry's eyes to widen. He hadn't heard Zack speak so harshly in the seven years he had been working for him. Zack was usually quite soft-spoken. There was no need for a man to raise his voice when everyone was more than eager to listen.

“How stupid can the man be?” Zack snarled.

Perry shrugged. “I've heard he's not the most enlightened of monarchs, but then Tamrovia is so small, maybe he doesn't have to be.”

“Get on the phone and call Jansen back. I want to know where she goes in that taxi.”

Perry nodded and slipped out the door of the box.

The houselights went down; a spotlight was thrown on the velvet curtain at center stage. Zack sat down in a plushly padded chair in the rear of the box, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the master of ceremonies, who walked into the spot.