Rune strode forward, demanding, “When did you and Dragos decide you would leave New York without Wyr bodyguards?”
The faerie threw him a hassled look. “We discussed it this morning.”
Graydon joined the triangle. “Sugar, I think we should revisit that decision. It’s gonna be a hell of a shock when you go public with your real identity. Most people think your whole family’s dead. There’s gonna be some Dark Fae who will feel mighty displaced when they find out you’re the real heir to their throne.”
Tricks slapped her fists over her ears. “We’re not talking about this. I’m not talking.”
Still standing by the elevator, Pia watched the angry quartet in fascination. She didn’t understand everything that had just happened, but it was clear the four of them were tied together with much more than just inter-Elder politics. They were in the middle of a knockdown, drag-out family fight.
She looked around, feeling awkward and quite the outsider. She recognized where they were from the earlier tour. At the end of the hall were large double oak doors, at present propped open. They led to Dragos’s offices.
Overcome with curiosity, she inched down the hall and peered into the inner sanctum to find yet more luxurious appointments and a rampant display of wealth. She sucked in a breath. She didn’t recognize a lot of the artwork she had seen in the penthouse, but she was pretty sure she was staring at a painting by Jackson Pollock that hung directly opposite the open doors.
Dragos stood nearby. He was deep in conversation with a large shaggy young man who managed to look rumpled and somewhat shabby despite wearing an expensive suit. Dragos caught sight of her and he smiled. The warmth of his smile spread through her, and she smiled back.
A moment later his face darkened with rage, the swift transformation so inexplicable and unexpected, she recoiled. He strode toward her and yanked her against his side.
“She’s not alone. We’re here. We’ve got her,” said Graydon from around the corner, behind her. The gryphon had followed her. He stood not five feet away, relaxed but alert with his back against the wall.
She looked around as Dragos glared down the hall. Rune had planted himself several feet farther away. He was still arguing with Tiago and Tricks, but he had positioned himself between them and Graydon and Pia.
The rigidity left Dragos’s body and his expression eased. That was when Pia caught up. She pinched her lower lip between thumb and forefinger. His look of rage hadn’t been for her. It had been for her bodyguards. She said to him, “If I ever make you that mad—again—you will give me a chance to apologize, right?”
He pulled her hand away from her mouth and kissed her swiftly. “You won’t make me that mad again.”
She was all too aware of the young shaggy male’s fascinated gaze. Dusky color painted her cheekbones. She patted Dragos’s arm and murmured, “As long as you believe that, big guy.”
He turned, pulling her with him. “Pia, this is one of my assistants, Kristoff.”
She met the shaggy Wyr’s gaze, which was lit with appreciation. He gave her a shy smile. “Hi.”
Pia’s day brightened. Not everybody disliked her at first sight. She said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Take ten,” Dragos said to Kristoff. He led Pia into his office.
Vertical blinds were pulled back from the two outer walls, and the large office was filled with bright, hot, early-afternoon sunlight. She blinked, dazzled. She gestured at the door and said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. They were all busy talking outside and I thought I would just take a quick peek—”
“They were the ones interrupting. They’re making enough noise to wake the dead,” Dragos said. He punched a button on the wall. With a near-soundless motor purr the vertical blinds closed over the windows, remaining half open but providing some shade from the blinding blaze of light. “Your arrival was a welcome bonus.”
Her attention returned to the windows and the cloudless bright blue sky outside. “We heard thunder?”
He sighed. “Tiago’s Wyr form is the thunderbird. Lightning and thunder come when he really loses it. It’s something to see in battle. Normally his temper is much better controlled, but everybody’s on edge right now.”
Pia caught sight of the two landscapes hanging on the inner walls. “Oh, these are magnificent,” she breathed. She walked toward them. The aerial landscape effect had been created by a mix of media, with paint, cloth, glitter and beads. The day landscape had a river cutting across the canvas. The night landscape conveyed an impression of towns scattered over a patchwork land. They couldn’t be more perfect for him. She could just see him sitting at his desk and looking at them as he imagined flying overhead, and he contemplated all the parts that comprised the whole. She turned to smile her delight at Dragos. “More patterns.”