Lord's Fall (Elder Races #5)(31)

Somewhat mollified, she said, “Hello, Ferion. How are you?”

“I am well, thank you,” he said. “Although I will always regret that you did not come to stay with us last summer.”

Her returning smile was wry. Ferion had led the party that had responded to her distress call when Dragos had crossed the Elven border without permission and had broken his treaties with them. The Elves had shot Dragos with a poisoned arrow, and then someone had told Urien, the Dark Fae King, what had happened.

A lot of bad things had come out of that. She and Dragos had been kidnapped, beaten and nearly killed. But a lot of good had come out of it too, like the first time she and Dragos had made love. They would probably never know which Elf had been Urien’s informant, and so much had happened since then that the information had become irrelevant. Urien was dead, and whatever alliances or loyalties any Elf might have had to him were dead also.

“All of that is water under the bridge now,” she told Ferion.

If he heard the double message in that statement, he didn’t show it. With a polite gesture, he invited her to walk with him, and Linwe and the rest followed.

It had been impossible for Pia to get a sense of how large the house really was when she had been looking at it from below. The reflective outside walls had messed with her sense of depth perception, as her mind kept insisting that she looked at sky and trees.

Inside, Ferion led the group down halls of flagstone, carved granite and wood, and they made several turns, which indicated that the house was very large indeed. Finally he stopped and opened a door that led to a spacious, gorgeously appointed apartment that had a central common room with a large fireplace and several couches, a couple of bathrooms and three bedrooms.

Since two of the psychos would be awake at any given time, the others could double up in two of the bedrooms. The rooms had rich, dark hardwood furniture and gleaming floors, handwoven rugs and intricately sewn tapestries with ocean and woodland scenes populated with fantastical creatures. The largest tapestry hung on the inside wall and depicted several Elves on one of their historic, sleek ocean-faring ships. One of the figures was a male with a long braid of dark hair, apparently Calondir, who held a gold cup. While the cup was relatively small in comparison to the rest of the scene, the gold thread gleamed brightly against the deep, rich colors used throughout the rest of the tapestry, drawing the eye immediately to it.

The outside wall of the apartment had large windows that overlooked the moonlit river and the Wood above the waterfall. She went to look out.

Ferion followed her. The Elf stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back, as they gazed at the beautiful scene. She glanced at him, and the resemblance to Calondir struck her all over again. The two males had to be related to each other in some way. They could be father and son. If they were, she wondered if Beluviel was Ferion’s mother. Given the coolness she had seen between Beluviel and Calondir, anything was possible.

The Power that Ferion carried indicated that he might even be old enough to remember the Elven war in the far-distant past. She wondered what he made of the Numenlaurian’s visit, but she could not quite bring herself to ask.

She said to him telepathically, I would count it as a great favor if we did not discuss my mother in front of others. I don’t know if you have heard, but I’ve not publicly revealed my Wyr form.

He looked at her quickly and bowed. Lady, I would be honored to keep that in confidence.

Thank you.

Aloud, he said, “I will see to it that supper is brought up shortly. Is there anything else that you require?”

“Everything is beautiful,” she told him.

He bowed again with that touch of Old World charm, excused himself and left. Linwe left with him, and the Wyr were alone for the first time that day.

Eva set the others to inspecting the apartment then she joined Pia by the window. She said, “The man had a point. I’ve seen better welcomes.”

Pia grimaced. “Beluviel told me telepathically that the emissary arrived this afternoon. Apparently they’re several days earlier than expected.”

Eva pursed her lips. “Well, that complicates things.”

“Yes, it does,” Pia said grimly.

Calondir and Beluviel might have invited her first, but the gods only knew how long it had been since they had seen Elves from Numenlaur. In contrast, they had only seen seven months of border tensions with the Wyr demesne. To people of their immense age, seven months must seem like nothing more than a passing moment.

But the trade embargo had to have hurt the Elven demesne as much as it did the Wyr. They had held out and made their statement successfully. Wouldn’t they be just as relieved to let it go as the Wyr would?

She felt like her mind was spinning from one thing to the next. It seemed like she did nothing but move from one pitfall to another. She couldn’t wait to see Dragos tonight and to put things right between them. Then maybe she could turn things around tomorrow and make something good come out of this damn trip.

The others made short work of thoroughly inspecting the apartment. Pia claimed the first bedroom they cleared, shut the door, stripped off her dirty clothes and staggered into the bathroom to take a long, warm bath.

Her Wyr healing abilities, along with the soothing soaps and water, soon eased the aches and pains of the day away but left her exhausted. As she climbed out of the bath, Eva knocked and brought in a tray laden with strange, delicious foods. Pia stuffed herself, shoved the tray outside the bedroom door afterward, climbed into the soft comfortable bed and was out before her head hit the pillow.