Inside, Ferion led the group down halls of flagstone, carved granite and wood, and they made several turns, which indicated that the house was very large indeed. Finally he stopped and opened a door that led to a spacious, gorgeously appointed apartment that had a central common room with a large fireplace and several couches, a couple of bathrooms and three bedrooms.
Since two of the psychos would be awake at any given time, the others could double up in two of the bedrooms. The rooms had rich, dark hardwood furniture and gleaming floors, handwoven rugs and intricately sewn tapestries with ocean and woodland scenes populated with fantastical creatures. The largest tapestry hung on the inside wall and depicted several Elves on one of their historic, sleek ocean-faring ships. One of the figures was a male with a long braid of dark hair, apparently Calondir, who held a gold cup. While the cup was relatively small in comparison to the rest of the scene, the gold thread gleamed brightly against the deep, rich colors used throughout the rest of the tapestry, drawing the eye immediately to it.
The outside wall of the apartment had large windows that overlooked the moonlit river and the Wood above the waterfall. She went to look out.
Ferion followed her. The Elf stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back, as they gazed at the beautiful scene. She glanced at him, and the resemblance to Calondir struck her all over again. The two males had to be related to each other in some way. They could be father and son. If they were, she wondered if Beluviel was Ferion’s mother. Given the coolness she had seen between Beluviel and Calondir, anything was possible.
The Power that Ferion carried indicated that he might even be old enough to remember the Elven war in the far-distant past. She wondered what he made of the Numenlaurian’s visit, but she could not quite bring herself to ask.
She said to him telepathically, I would count it as a great favor if we did not discuss my mother in front of others. I don’t know if you have heard, but I’ve not publicly revealed my Wyr form.
He looked at her quickly and bowed. Lady, I would be honored to keep that in confidence.
Thank you.
Aloud, he said, “I will see to it that supper is brought up shortly. Is there anything else that you require?”
“Everything is beautiful,” she told him.
He bowed again with that touch of Old World charm, excused himself and left. Linwe left with him, and the Wyr were alone for the first time that day.
Eva set the others to inspecting the apartment then she joined Pia by the window. She said, “The man had a point. I’ve seen better welcomes.”
Pia grimaced. “Beluviel told me telepathically that the emissary arrived this afternoon. Apparently they’re several days earlier than expected.”
Eva pursed her lips. “Well, that complicates things.”
“Yes, it does,” Pia said grimly.
Calondir and Beluviel might have invited her first, but the gods only knew how long it had been since they had seen Elves from Numenlaur. In contrast, they had only seen seven months of border tensions with the Wyr demesne. To people of their immense age, seven months must seem like nothing more than a passing moment.
But the trade embargo had to have hurt the Elven demesne as much as it did the Wyr. They had held out and made their statement successfully. Wouldn’t they be just as relieved to let it go as the Wyr would?
She felt like her mind was spinning from one thing to the next. It seemed like she did nothing but move from one pitfall to another. She couldn’t wait to see Dragos tonight and to put things right between them. Then maybe she could turn things around tomorrow and make something good come out of this damn trip.
The others made short work of thoroughly inspecting the apartment. Pia claimed the first bedroom they cleared, shut the door, stripped off her dirty clothes and staggered into the bathroom to take a long, warm bath.
Her Wyr healing abilities, along with the soothing soaps and water, soon eased the aches and pains of the day away but left her exhausted. As she climbed out of the bath, Eva knocked and brought in a tray laden with strange, delicious foods. Pia stuffed herself, shoved the tray outside the bedroom door afterward, climbed into the soft comfortable bed and was out before her head hit the pillow.
Despite her quick plummet into sleep she tossed and turned. Several times she came partly awake, frustrated and searching. She couldn’t find the right connection. Every time she reached for Dragos, all she could see was a male with green eyes. He held out his hand and beckoned to her, but it was much too dark where he stood. Every time she saw him, she shuddered and turned away.
Then she came awake in a rush.
Disoriented, she thrust out of bed and went to the window. The sky was growing lighter. It was early in the morning, and she hadn’t dreamed of Dragos.
They hadn’t dreamed.
Panic throbbed like a migraine at her temples. She strode to the door and snatched it open. James and Andrea were talking quietly, keeping watch in the common room. Both came to their feet at her appearance.
James put a hand on his sword. He asked, “Everything all right?”