As they climbed, two tall, Powerful Elves, both male, appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs and watched their approach. One of the males was Calondir. The other was Ferion, whom Pia had met last May in Folly Beach.
Both Elven males wore serious expressions. The High Lord’s hair was long and sable dark, and bound back tightly, his eyes a bright, startling blue. In the May teleconference, Pia hadn’t noticed the resemblance between Ferion and Calondir, but in person, the similarity between the two males was unmistakable. They both had the same strong, elegant bone structure.
Beluviel paused on the top step, and instinctively Pia paused with her. The High Lord and his consort faced each other with cool, perfect courtesy.
Calondir said, “Lady.”
“My lord,” Beluviel murmured.
Pia’s eyebrows slid up before she could get in control of her expression. Maybe she and Dragos would greet each other so coolly too, after they had been together for a bajillion years, but somehow she didn’t think so.
Then Calondir turned to her and inclined his head. “Greetings, Lady of the Wyr.”
Greetings, not welcome. Even though Calondir didn’t show any hint of his emotions, she was suddenly convinced that the High Lord was blazingly furious.
Clearly he was not falling over himself with excitement at her arrival.
Oy vey.
SEVEN
The undercurrents that swirled around Ferion, Beluviel and Calondir were stifling. Pia received the distinct impression that the three of them exchanged an intense storm of telepathic words while she faced the High Lord’s ageless, closed expression. Meeting his cool, Powerful gaze was one of the more challenging things she’d done since, well, since she’d argued with Dragos in the middle of the night.
Suddenly the pressure from the last two days, hell, the last seven months, welled up, and it had to go somewhere outside of her body or she would combust. She cast about mentally . . . where, where . . . but in the end, there was really only one place for it to go.
She said in Eva’s head, I’m in so far over my head in so many ways, I don’t even know where shore is anymore.
Steady on, Tinker Bell, Eva said calmly. Man shits like anybody else do.
She did not just hear that. Her poise, having already grown precarious, splintered. She bent sharply at the waist and leaned her hands on her knees. Vaguely she was aware of a ripple of reaction passing through the others.
A strong, brown hand curled around her bicep and gripped her hard. “There’s no need to be alarmed,” Eva said crisply. “She just isn’t much of a rider. She has been suffering from a leg cramp, that’s all.”
Captain Psycho’s speech was polished, educated, and her grammar beautifully correct. And damn that woman, she could lie. Pia’s truthsense insisted on Eva’s sincerity.
“Yes, I’m all right,” Pia said hoarsely. She kept it simple, not even attempting to match Eva’s duplicity. “My apologies.” She told Eva, You’re pure fucking evil, and I hate you passionately.
I know, my bitch goddess too hot for some to handle, Eva said. Even in her telepathic voice, she sounded complacent.
SHUT UP.
Opposite Eva, Beluviel took Pia’s other arm for support as she straightened. The consort’s wide gaze was warm with concern. Beluviel asked, “Are you able to walk?”
“Yes, thank you,” Pia said.
“Other issues need my attention,” Calondir said. “I’ll take my leave now.”
Pia saw everything she had worked for slipping through her fingers as the High Lord turned away.
Anger sparked. Sure, an upcoming visit from Numenlaurians must be hugely important, but the Elves had invited her first, dammit.
She said, “Sir.”
Calondir paused to look back at her, one eyebrow raised in imperious inquiry.
In the end, she spoke as plainly as she had several months ago when she had first addressed him. “I know you are very busy, and you have a great deal on your mind. That is why I was so honored at your invitation. I’ve made it my priority to visit despite the distance and the important developments occurring in my own demesne.” She knew the original invitation had come from Beluviel, but just as Dragos had to agree to the visit, Calondir had to have put his stamp of approval on it, and she couldn’t afford to let him wriggle out of granting her an audience. People in the Wyr demesne needed for her to succeed at reestablishing trade agreements. She finished, “I hope you might find time for a short talk.”
He regarded her unsmilingly, then inclined his head. “Thank you for your effort in making the journey. I appreciate your dedication and hope you have a restful evening. Good night.”
Argh, that was it? No promise to talk later? Just a dismissal? What the fuck? Pia’s lips tightened as Calondir turned his back to her again and walked away.
She looked at Beluviel. The consort stared after Calondir, her posture stiff. “Ferion and Linwe,” said the consort, “would you kindly show Pia and her people to their rooms?”