The bedroom of the Tan clan chief was surprisingly normal, without a stitch of tie-dye in sight. A four-poster king-size bed with heavy posts of what looked like birch matched a heavy chest of drawers. There were lots and lots of textiles—hanging on the walls, layered on the floors, and covering the furniture, all in pale, pale tones of blue and white with an occasional dash of copper or gold. Russian snow prince colors, same as those Rand wore.
The only things of real interest hung from the ceiling near the head of the bed and adjacent wall.
Over the bed dangled something that looked like an ornate dream catcher, only instead of leather or rope, it was woven of copper wire, and the feathers hanging from it were encrusted with blue gemstones. In the center of the dream catcher circle, an orange stone was suspended. It appeared to have a live flame flickering inside it.
On the wall beside the bed hung a large shield of tooled leather. It looked ancient. The background was the same rich blue as the dream catcher gemstones, but layered on top of it, in worn leather, was a dragon the size of a breadbox, his wings outstretched, an orange leather flame erupting from his open mouth. Tiny white claws of carved bone, or so it appeared, stretched from his fore and hind feet.
“That’s my clan’s ceremonial shield.” Rand’s voice came from behind me, and I jumped, startled. When I turned, he took in my outfit and laughed. “I can’t wait to see the reaction you’ll get from your shifter, but I like it. Funky suits you.”
I suspected funky didn’t suit me at all, but I was stuck with it for now. “What’s the significance of the dragon?” I asked, turning back to the shield.
“It’s our symbol, I guess you’d call it. There aren’t as many dragons in Elfheim as there used to be, but those that still live in the hills answer to the Tan.”
I turned to stare at him. “You mean there are dragons? Real dragons?” Why didn’t I know there were dragons?
“Of course.” He said it as if I were an idiot for asking.
I pointed to the suspended copper structure. “What about the dream catcher? The fire in the stone looks alive.”
“It is.” He touched a finger to one of the jeweled feathers, and the fire inside the center stone leapt outside the confines of its metal setting. “It strengthens my dreamwalking skills as I sleep. It was my mother’s. The dream catcher and the shield are the only things of my parents I brought here.”
There was so much about the elves I didn’t know or understand. Before he’d become besotted by Terri the vampire and let himself be manipulated into getting fangs, courtesy of his own father, Adrian Hoffman had been giving me lessons in elven history. I wished I’d taken them more seriously.
Speaking of which. “Have you heard anything about Adrian?” As annoying as I found the man, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d betrayed me, but he’d been played big-time by his father and Garrett Melnick. And now he was forced to hide out with them or be arrested by the Elders for whom he once worked.
“No, and I can’t believe you’d care.” Rand gave a dismissive wave. “Good riddance. Hope he enjoys life as a vampire.”
Now there was the Rand I knew and despised.
“Do you have a transport that goes somewhere besides Elfheim, or do I need to make one?”
He leaned against the bedroom door. “Could you redo the transport in the greenhouse so it can go anywhere? It still goes only to Elfheim.”
“I think so. Is that the one you call Rivendell?”
He smiled. “It is.”
“Okay, let’s check it out.” If he’d transported into it from Eugenie’s, he should be able to transport out with a quick reset.
We went down the narrow stairwell that opened into the front part of the Plantasy Island retail area. The cash register sat on a wooden counter, and every inch of wall space sported some type of outdoor doodad: garden gnomes in colorful outfits, flags, faux-classical statuary, ceramic birdbaths. “Don’t you get tired of all this cuteness?”
“Yeah, but humans love it.” Rand straightened a couple of oversize verdigris-painted metal frogs. “And when people come in to buy this junk, it gives me a chance to talk to them about plants and how to take care of them.”
We walked through the wide door behind the counter, and the chill of the greenhouse went straight through my hippie dress. I’d been carrying my lambskin jacket, but pulled it on. Who the hell cared if it matched? It still beat the orange and purple nightmare I’d been wearing.
Rand fingered the soft leather. “You should’ve gone with imitation. It’s more environmentally responsible and nothing had to die to make it.”
Nice way to make me feel like a selfish lamb-murderess. “You do remember your promise to be considerate and sensitive to people’s feelings today, right?”
“Of course.”
Good grief. Things could go south so very easily.