Oakley shook his head.“Not like this.”
They rounded a rise in the trail and stopped.
What she’d first taken for a knotted outcrop of stone and root resolved into a dwelling.Half carved from the hillside, half grown out of it, as though the earth had decided to make a house and never asked permission.Moss coated the stone, ivy hanging in long green ribbons.The windows glimmered faintly as if the entire structure breathed.
Tamsin stepped forward, brow furrowed.“I don’t recall this being here.”
“Neither do I,” Syndra whispered.Which meant either the forest had grown it recently ...
or someone didn’t want to be found.
Oakley lifted a hand, cautioning them back a step.“Someone lives here.That smoke means someone was warming the place or cooking not long ago.”
Before Syndra could reply, the door opened.
A man stepped into the threshold like he owned the place and the forest that grew around it.Tall, dark hair mussed by the breeze, sharp features untouched by time.He wore a long coat, unbuttoned, posture loose with that practiced ease she recognized instantly.
Rezer.
Syndra stopped breathing for one single, startled beat.
Not because she feared him, though he was dangerous, but because he was the last person she expected to see stepping casually out of an elven hillside like he’d been carved into it.
“Well, well,” Rezer drawled, mouth pulling into an infuriatingly smooth smile.“The royal retirees out for a stroll.Should I bow, or is this more of a casual encounter?”
Tamsin crossed his arms.“We thought you were still running a casino in the human realm.”
“I was.”Rezer spread his hands like that explained everything.“Then Lorsan died, the world shifted, and I realized I hate slot machines.So here I am.”
Syndra narrowed her eyes.“You neglected to mention you were livinghere, of all places.”
He flashed her a grin, too sharp, too knowing.“You never asked.”
Oakley blinked between them.“Wait.Youknowhim?”
Syndra resisted the urge to rub her face.“Unfortunately.He’s a dark elf with a talent for questionable life choices.”
Rezer pressed a hand to his chest.“I prefer ‘creative.’And I owned a very successful casino, thank you.”He looked at Oakley, “Your mother enjoyed the company if I remember correctly.”
Oakley stiffened.“My mom?As in Lisa?”
Rezer looked over him more carefully now, eyes narrowing.“Though you have some of your father in you, you definitely bear resemblance to her.”
Oakley’s jaw ticked.“And you’ve been visiting her.”
Syndra winced.There it was.
Rezer shrugged, unbothered.“She makes good tea.And conversation.What more does a man need?”
“You’re a dark elf,” Oakley said bluntly.“My mom doesn’t need whatever this is.”
A flicker, not irritation, not amusement, crossed Rezer’s features.Something more dangerous.“You’re half dark elf, courtesy of your father, if you need reminding.And if I meant her harm, she’d already have been dealt with, Oakley.”
Syndra stepped forward before Oakley could respond.“Enough posturing.Rezer, what are you doing out here?Why hide?Why this place?”
“I like privacy,” he said with a shrug.“The human realm got loud.Here, it’s quiet.Mostly.”
Syndra watched him closely.Too closely.There was something off in the way he held himself, like a flicker at the edges of his silhouette, a heaviness under his eyes, an invisible weight tugging at him.She hadn’t noticed that when she’d seen him at Lisa’s.Not shadow.Not sickness.But wrong.She didn’t ask about it.Not aloud.
