Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races #8.5)(28)

Neither the Elder tribunal nor any of the members of the Supreme Court were involved in this week’s talks, just those involved in active governance.

So there were fourteen and fourteen. Then there was the security staff, but they didn’t count in terms of making sure glasses were refilled and seating arrangements at the dinner table.

Big and stately though the mansion was, it didn’t have the sheer space or capacity to hold the high numbers that the White House could, and after some discussion and negotiation, most of everybody’s security details awaited them outside, while each couple was allowed one person indoors, which made thirteen extra bodies to account for as a total head count.

Dragos and Pia’s security didn’t factor into that number, for their security staff was also the waitstaff. They threaded through the guests, offering hors d’oeuvres, wine and mixed drinks with polite smiles and watchful, smiling eyes. No expense had been spared for this evening. Five hundred dollar bottles of wine flowed like water, and only the highest quality liquors were offered to those who chose to partake.

When someone—Pia didn’t catch who—suggested they open the large French-style doors and enjoy the unseasonably warm evening outside, Dragos moved to open the doors up and people spilled out onto the wide terrace.

In anticipation of doing just that, earlier that afternoon, when they were sure the weather was going to hold, Pia had worked with the staff to set out tables covered with white cloths, bouquets of fresh flowers and candles. After the doors had been opened, Bayne walked from table to table, lighting candles, until the terrace and the half-acre of manicured gardens were lit with sparks of soft, golden light.

Sipping with moderation at a glass of French Bordeaux, Pia circulated too, joining conversations briefly with small clusters of people before moving on to the next, while her gaze kept roaming constantly to make sure everyone was getting his or her needs met.

Aside from polite smiles and the most basic greeting, she avoided the vice president and her husband altogether—she wouldn’t be able to change the Coltons’ minds about anything, and she felt no need to engage with them. Thankfully they were Dragos’s problem, not hers, and while she was happy to work to support him in what he did, she wouldn’t change places with him for the world.

After the first forty-five minutes, the tight knot between her shoulder blades started to ease. Relations between humankind and the Elder Races might not be improved after this week, but that wouldn’t be because of any fault in this evening.

At least she devoutly hoped not. Because, as Dragos would say, night’s not over yet.

Then Gennita, the head chef, appeared in the open French doors and said discreetly in Pia’s head, My lady? When would you like for us to serve?

How about in fifteen minutes? she replied.

Very good. I’ll put the soufflés in the oven now, and we’ll be ready. Gennita slipped away.

Pia could hear a high, constant buzzing in her ears, which was incredibly annoying. She didn’t know if it was from nerves or the antihistamines, but she had no time for either. Abruptly, she set her glass of wine aside on one of the small tables, turned and came face-to-face with Tatiana, the immaculate, chic and—at least to her—rather frightening Light Fae Queen.

“I’ve always envied Dragos this property,” Tatiana told Pia, as she sipped a glass of sparkling wine. “Dragos certainly made all the right decisions at the right time when he bought the land and hired the architect. Now, of course, the place would sell for tens of millions of dollars—not that he’s in the market to sell it, of course. But if he ever is, do get in touch with me, won’t you?”

The Light Fae Queen wore a backless dress the deep, rich color of claret. It emphasized her golden skin, hourglass figure, and the dark curling hair she had pinned high at the back of her head. Secretive shadows seemed to flicker in her lovely, famous eyes, or perhaps that was just the effect of the night breeze on the nearby candles.

There were actually only twelve attendees on the Elder Races side, as Tatiana’s only companion that evening was the captain of her guard, Shane Mac Carthaigh. Or was he her plus one? He was certainly doing double duty that evening, but Pia wasn’t sure how to categorize him socially.

The Light Fae Queen showed not a single hint of discomfort at the evening’s gathering, either in her beautiful, composed face or in her scent, while Pia felt circles of damp sweat soaking in her dress under her arms.

Envying the other woman her poise, she told Tatiana, “We’ll be sure to let you know, if he ever decides to sell. I think I’ve stuck my head in every room and closet now, at least once, and everything is this beautiful. The attention to detail is everywhere.”

“I can imagine.” Tatiana studied her. “You interest me, young woman. You have a very interesting story that you’ve chosen not to share with the world. Dragos must see something very special about an herbivore of unknown nature. I always thought if he were to mate, it would be with one of the long-lived predators.”

Pia slid a wary sidelong glance at the other woman. Instead of indulging in polite pleasantries, the Light Fae Queen had zeroed in on one of the Cuelebres’ most touchy subjects.

Instead of getting more nervous, however, Pia suddenly relaxed. Both she and Dragos had been dodging questions like that from theWyr for the last eighteen months, and while she used to fumble much more in the beginning, by necessity she’d had to learn to grow a thick skin about the topic.