“No. He’s out right now.”
It grates on my nerves to have this confirmation that they’re together. I try not to actually surmise anything other than it being two heartbroken friends banding together, because I don’t think I can deal with imagining anything else. I repeat, “Is he okay?”
“Look.” The amusement is gone; she’s all business. “I know you’ve got to be worried. But I happen to know he’s asked for space, and you calling and checking up on him doesn’t fit in that definition.”
Appalled and, frankly, pissed off, I start to set her straight, but she cuts me off. “Believe it or not, I don’t want to argue with you. I’m just saying, you made your choice. He’s made his. Can’t you respect his like he’s respecting yours?”
I nearly crush the phone, my grip is so tight.
“He’ll be back in Annar soon enough,” she adds, as if my sharp hiss of breath wasn’t audible. But at least now, her voice has softened some.
There isn’t much more to say, so we exchange a clumsy set of goodbyes before hanging up.
That went well, Caleb muses.
Did we hear the same conversation?
Callie has every reason to hate you, but she answered the phone and told you where he is. She hasn’t done that for anybody else, not even Karl.
It’s enough to draw pause. Why would she do that?
Why indeed?
Portal #1487LF
Elvin Ysendria Maarkkesh / Uloinion Forest
20.2061? N / 11.6328? E
I lean back in my chair and sift through the folder in front of me. There are a couple of maps of the Elvin plane, coordinates, and a one-page overview of the mission. This’ll make the third portal I’ve been tasked with in a month. Ever since the atoll mission, the Council has given me nothing but easy assignments. Zthane Nightstorm, who is sitting next to me, leans over and taps a location on the map. “Pretty remote. Middle of a forest. You’ll have to hike to it.”
Yuck. The last two locations were at least within driving distance. Even still, I ask hopefully, “Some driving, though?”
“Nope.” He gives me a grin that’s filled with extraordinarily white, straight teeth. Zthane is a Goblin, but more often than not, I imagine him as a green Julius Caesar. He’s tall, with closely cropped peppered hair that looks Roman-ish, plus he’s got this straight nose that looks like it ought to be on a marble bust. He’s pretty good-looking and radiates some serious influence and power, especially since he’s something like the equivalent of a General in the Guard. “What do you know about Elvin forests, Chloe?”
“Not much,” I admit. “I’m assuming they’re a lot like the forests on my plane.” Aren’t they?
“They’re similar in that there are trees, but Elvin forests are a lot drier than those on the rest of the planes. They’re more like deserts than traditional forests with sandy dirt that only specialized plants grow in. There’s water around, but usually deep underground. The trees that you’ll be seeing excel at surviving in drought-like conditions with deep root systems.”
He slides over an aerial photo. Everything is green, green, green. I give him an incredulous look. “This is a desert?”
“Weird, right? But yes, it is. It’ll be arid when you go. The trees provide a lot of shade, which is a good thing, because out in those forests, you can get heatstroke and sunburnt in the blink of an eye.”
I can’t help but wonder if Zthane’s ever had a sunburn. His skin is a creamy matte-pea green that’s surprisingly attractive. Not that I would say that to him, because Zthane Nightstorm isn’t the sort of guy who’d be flattered by somebody telling him he’s good-looking. He’s such a by the book, military-style guy who cares more about orders than looks. It’s part of why he and Karl are best friends.
Speaking of, Karl comes in and sits down across from us. He slaps a folder against the table and shoves it toward Zthane. As Zthane peruses it, my former personal Guard tells me, “That there is a list of the Guard going with you.”
I glance at the folder. I learned early on that there’d always be a Guard team with me on missions; apparently, I’m too fragile or “valuable” to actually send out on my own. Jonah assures me he normally has a team with him, too, but he gets one, two people, tops. I’m sent with five. “Anybody I know?”
Karl taps a finger against his lips. “Does Kellan count?”
The conference room suddenly feels too small, even though there are only three of us sitting at a table that could hold twenty. I force my face to stay passive.
Zthane pulls a sheet of paper from the folder. “Excellent. He’s already complaining about not being sent out enough since coming back. This’ll give us at least a few days’ worth of complacency, no?”