They came to the library’s double doors, which had been propped open. The library was a spacious room with quality neutral-toned overstuffed furniture arranged around an Oriental rug, bookshelves stocked with a collection of hardcover classics and current New York Times bestselling paperbacks and a fireplace at one end.
The room’s real claim to fame was the sumptuous original Tiffany stained-glass opalescent window that dominated one wall. The window depicted a sunlit pond in a forest populated with brilliant fantastic fish and birds that had never been seen on this side of Earth. Art scholars argued that Louis Comfort must have traveled to an Other land and seen the wildlife at some point in his life to have created such beautiful detailed representations, but the argument was not substantiated as the strange species were not documented in any of the Elder records about Other lands.
Niniane sighed as she thought of Scott Hughes’s white, horrorstricken face from earlier when he had looked at the damaged floor downstairs. The Tiffany window sparkled with a strong anti-breakage spell, but such spells had a limited veracity. If a force greater than the strength of the spell hit the window, both window and spell would still shatter. At least a couple of the people in this room had that kind of Power. Poor Scott probably wouldn’t be resting easily until the Dark Fae concluded their hotel stay.
Perhaps she should nudge that conclusion along. Urien had built a sprawling mansion on a gated, extensive tract of land that covered eighty acres in one of the most expensive urban areas in the country. The grounds encompassed the main crossover point for the Dark Fae’s Other land. Originally she had been uneasy about going straight to the mansion from New York. She had wanted to take a more cautious route, to meet and talk with the Dark Fae delegation on more neutral ground, from which she might have some hope of escape if needed. The mansion on its gated property had seemed as if it could be too easily turned into a prison.
As it turned out, her impulse to caution had had some validity.
The four occupants in the room turned at her arrival. As one, their attention went to the silent menace that stalked behind her, and their faces grew cold and still. All, that is, except for the tall black-haired Dark Fae male with high cheekbones and crow’s-feet at his eyes that deepened when he smiled at her. Aubrey Riordan, Chancellor of the Dark Fae government, strode toward her with his hands outstretched. She put her hands out as he reached her, and he brought them up to kiss them.
Aubrey said, “I cannot tell you how angry and distressed I was to hear of the attack made on you by Geril and his partners, or how relieved and glad I am that you are back to us safe and well.”
Niniane searched the older Dark Fae male’s face as he spoke. According to her truthsense, every word he spoke was sincere. But she, and even Dragos, had believed that Geril and the others had spoken the truth too. As Dragos’s mate Pia in New York had argued just a week ago, there were ways to get around truthsense if someone had a talent with words and misdirection. That had been how Pia had survived a potentially deadly encounter with Urien when he had kidnapped her. But Aubrey’s eyes were kind, and Niniane so badly wanted to believe him. She squeezed his fingers before she let him go.
Carling moved with silent ghostly grace to sink into an armchair. The Vampyre was still barefoot, but she had changed out of the black Chanel suit. She now wore a loose plain caftan of undyed Egyptian cotton. Somehow she made the simple garment look like haute couture. She had pinned up her long, shining dark hair with two slender stilettos. The knives and the caftan appeared to be the only things she wore. The Vampyre watched the scene with interest, but unless there was a gross violation of demesne law or someone’s life was threatened, as Councillor from the Elder tribunal, she would do nothing to interfere.
Commander Arethusa stood ramrod-straight behind one couch. The powerfully built Dark Fae woman glared at Tiago. “The Wyr is not allowed here,” Arethusa gritted. “He must leave. Now.”