"Yes, why?"
"Because some of the tapes I dug out—not the ones her Ladyship left for me—say that some susceptibles get hungrier than usual after they've become infected. But if she didn't bite you, you can't be infected."
Thompson set down the coffee cup he'd just picked up, an unpleasant thought forming. "I … don't know about that," he said slowly. "I may have a nasty mind, but I can't forget that our gracious hostess used to be a field agent."
"And field agents don't exactly have the same standards as the rest of the Imperial services." King hesitated. "Cap, you don't think she'd—"
"That's exactly what I do think." The Count couldn't force him, no, but a field agent would feel perfectly justified in tricking him, if the stakes were high enough. "I'm not sure whether it was her primary plan or a backup, but thinking back, she could very well have laced that beer with virus. With you not susceptible and the rest of her guests being Kins already, I'm the only one it would have any effect on."
King chuckled. "That makes sense, Cap—but if so, it backfired on her. According to the tapes, the ones who get the hungries may become high-class Donors when they're weakened for the Change, but they don't become Kins."
"Oh, yeah?" Thompson grinned in relief. "I can handle that easily enough, especially since it means the team doesn't have to break up. I think I'll ask to see her as soon as we finish eating."
The Count sent word that she'd see him as soon as her morning formal audience was over, so Thompson was waiting in her working office when she came in just before noon. He rose and, since he was in civilian clothes this time, bowed slightly. "Good morning, my Lady."
"Good morning, Captain. You look pleased with yourself." The Count motioned him back to his seat, while she leaned against her desk. "What is it?"