“Indeed,” Liadon murmured. “He thanks you for your swift action.”
“I dare say anyone threatened with having their entire city encased in ice would also have acted in a similarly swift manner.”
Liadon laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. “Indeed yes. Now please, you should go. You have been too long in this place, and it will take its toll on you, godling or not.”
Her words had the intensity of the migraine increasing, and I quickly rummaged through my purse to find some painkillers. I swallowed them dry, grimacing at the taste, then followed the orb through a different exit door back into the familiar black walls of a corridor.Whichcorridor was the question of the hour, because I had a feeling the paths in this place were far from static.
“Would it be too bold of me to ask if a search can be done for any mention of my mother in the more recent council files?” I asked after a few minutes of twists and turns.
“Bold? Yes, definitely, but I shall see what can be done. No promises.”
Which is more than what I’d gotten the last time I’d mentioned it. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
The light continued to lead me through a number of glassy black tunnels, eventually depositing me at the forbidding metal door that would take me back into the real world.
I glanced at the orb. “Thank you for your assistance.”
It spun briefly, then winked out of existence. I took a deeper breath and continued on. The door slid open to reveal a lone figure leaning back against the metal railing, a large paper cup in one hand and his phone in the other.
Mathi Dhar-Val—who was not only a former lover but also the liaison between me and Deva’s Fae Council—was a Ljósálfar elf, and like all of them, he was lean in build but absolutely divine to look at, blessed with golden skin and hair, fine, almost angelic features, and eyes the color of summer skies. We’d been lovers for nearly ten years before splitting eight or so months ago, and although I’d always known he was not my one true love—and could never be, in fact, given he was a highborn light elf, and they only married their own kind and rank—I’d always enjoyed his company. In fact, he was one of only two people who would fit into the category of a “best” friend. Darby Riagáin—a light elf I’d met during our school years and who was now dating my brother—was the other.
He glanced up as I approached and put his phone away. “I was beginning to think I’d have to break into Liadon’s domain and rescue you.”
His tone was coolly distant—a trait all light elves had, as they tended to present an emotionless façade to the world in general—but warm amusement danced through his eyes.
“Why? How long was I in there?”
“Three hours.”
“Three?You jest.”
“I,” he said severely, “am a Ljósálfar elf. We never jest.”
A laugh escaped, but it was quickly followed by a wince. I resisted the urge to rub my forehead, not wanting to give him cause for alarm. “What in the hell have you been doing for three hours? You and boredom are not great companions.”
“Indeed, we are not.” He handed me the cup and fell in step beside me as I headed for the stairs. “Which is why I was on the phone. I finalized one deal, and made an initial offer on another.”
Which explained his upbeat mood. Closing a deal was an aphrodisiac to light elves. I took a sip of the drink, immediately discovering it was not only tea, butdamnhot. “Given the temperature of this drink, I take it you also sent poor Henrick on multiple runs?”
Henrick was his chauffeur, and one of two he used regularly. While Mathi was quite capable of driving, he—like many elves who lived and worked within the somewhat crowded boundaries of Deva’s old town—preferred to be driven rather than dealing with the daily hassle of traffic themselves.
“PoorHenrick is extremely well paid to do my bidding and offer no opinion.” He pulled a block of chocolate out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “We also acquired this.”
I dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. “You are a darling.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “We do have a meeting with the council at three—which, I may point out, is now a mere five minutes away—so I thought it a prudent step after your recent hospital stay and your tendency to overdo it. Which youobviously have, given the current squinty nature of your eyes. You’ve taken pain relief?”
“Yes, and since when did we have a council meeting booked?”
“As of about two hours ago.”
“That’s all rather sudden, isn’t it?” I handed him the tea, broke off a row of chocolate, then tucked the rest into my purse and retrieved my drink. “Has something happened?”
He shrugged, the movement elegance itself, and motioned me ahead of him as we reached the top of the circular staircase. “Perhaps, but I’ve been doing business rather than scanning social media. It’s totally possible that now you’re deemed fully recovered, they’ve decided it’s time for another relic hunt.”
“They usually give a bit more notice than that, though.” I bit into the chocolate, then added, “And surely they’re aware that we both have businesses to run?”
