“But you love us.”
I harrumphed and took another drink. “Am I immune to the blade? Or will it affect me the same as anyone else?”
She waved a hand. “That is unknown, but your godly blood will protect you from at least some relics even it doesn’t protect you from all of them.”
Fabulous.Not. “I take it you’re here to demand I find the blade, without telling me how to do so?”
“In part. The blade has an unusual resonance that should allow you—through the wind—to find its location when in use.”
“How do you know this?”
“I asked Bia.”
I just about choked on my drink. “She’s a player?”
“Sort of. She’s what we call a sideliner—a semi-active participant that works to impede.”
“Both sides?”
Beira nodded. “The uncertainty caused by sideliners does add an extra zing to the games.”
I snorted. “I take it that means she wasn’t willing to give up the name of the current wielder?”
“Of course not, but given she is one of the ancients, the Codex should hold some information on her blade.” She drained her glass and pushed to her feet. “And now, I should go. I have spent too long here already.”
She picked up the whisky and tucked the bottle into the voluminous folds of her rather ratty-looking coat. The bird’s nest that had for ages been in her matted hair seemed to have migrated to the inside of the coat, if brief but outraged tweeting was anything to go by.
“If I find anything, I’ll contact you,” I said.
“Sooner would be better than later.”
“And the blade itself? What do I do with it once I’ve found it?”
“Take it to Liadon.”
My eyebrows rose. “Really? What is the damn point of finding these things if they’re just going to be handed over and released again?”
“The point is godly pleasure, as you are well aware, but items returned rather than destroyed cannot be used again in the current game.”
“There are rules? Color me shocked.”
“There are always rules; whether most are actually followed is another matter entirely.”
I rolled my eyes, and she cackled, a harsh sound that seemed to linger long after she’d left. I gulped down the rest of my drink, walked the glass back down to the bar, then clattered up the stairs, my hand on the railing so I could feel the wood’s warmth.
The next floor was larger, as there was no kitchen up here to take up space, and contained a mix of booths of varying sizes, a few tables, and the doors leading out onto the covered row area. The only customers up here were Jack and Phil. They’d been coming to the tavern as long as anyone could remember and, like many of the elders in the pixie community who lived permanently here in Deva rather than one of the widely scattered enclaves, basically treated the Boot as a second home. The fierce joy that radiated off the old oak beams in the tavern was undoubtedly one reason for that; it was as close as they could come to communing with nature in the old city without having to take public transport out to a public park or even an enclave. But I suspected the real reason was the fact that the Boot provided a deep discount on food to all the older fae—except elves—to ensure they had at least one decent meal a day. The only reason we excluded elves was because there were two large encampments sitting outside city limits, and elves generally did a good job of looking after their own.
I ducked into the office to get an update from Ingrid, the short but take-no-shit pixie I’d recently promoted to full-timemanager, then headed around to the narrow stairs tucked away behind the bar and deactivated the alarm on the door. It had been installed after a break-in, and while it wouldn’t stop a determined thief or thug for very long, it would make a hell of a noise and send an alert to both my phone and Sgott’s.
I relocked the door, then padded up stairs worn down by centuries of foot traffic. As a pixie, I could have restored them, but their song was rich and warm, and I really didn’t want to alter it. Mom and Gran had obviously agreed with me.
The living area was very confined, even though the roof had been illegally raised by Gran years ago, and contained a combined kitchen-living area and two bedrooms—one had been Mom’s and was now mine, while the one Lugh and I had shared as kids was now a spare. The bathroom was the second-biggest room in the flat and with good reason—it had at one point needed to cope with four oversized pixies using it. Gran had moved out of the tavern when she’d handed the reins over to Mom, but before then, she’d slept in the loft.
I threw my purse on the sofa and walked over to light the fire, saying a prayer of thanks to the wood for its sacrifice, then placed the grate across and headed into the kitchen to grab the sleeping potion Darby had made me specifically for moments like this. Once I’d taken it, I headed into my bedroom, stripped off, and fell into bed. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.
It was who-knew-how-many hours later when the Eye burning against my skin woke me. I had no sense of danger, and the building’s song was bright and happy, but I remained still, pretending sleep as I fought my way toward full consciousness. It didn’t take all that long to realize why the Eye had lit up, and heat of a very different kind stirred, right along with my hormones.
Eljin lay pressed against my spine.
