She shifted uncomfortably. “Of course. And why should I trust you? I’m not a human whose work can be stolen with impunity.”
“I agree, but what good are your theories doing here?” he protested. “You can’t publish them in a human journal. You’re generations ahead, and if you do, you’ll never be allowed to work in an elven lab again.”
“Like I’m allowed now?” she said, gesturing at the outdated technology she was forced to use. “Get out. Before I throw you out.”
“I’m just going to come back on Monday,” he said, even as he edged to the door, wiggling his fingers at Orchid to stay where she was. “The enclave sent me to look at your universal donor virus. They think it has an amazing potential.”
Trisk put her arms over her chest, poised belligerently. “Out.”
“Just . . . let me explain,” he said as he paused by the door, and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I came to check Daniel’s research and make sure your modifications are foolproof, but after seeing how stable it is and what you’ve done with the tomatoes . . .” He hesitated, looking at the ceiling as if pleading to the gods to give him the words to convince her. “Trisk, show me your universal donor. If it’s as good as I think it is, Sa’han Ulbrine will want you to come back—not just your research, you.” Which was all true, even if none of it would happen if he got his way.
Trisk blinked, a shocked amazement on her face as she took her attention from the bookshelf. “What?” she managed, her voice sounding nothing like her, soft and low instead of hard in threat. He’d never heard her voice gentled like that, and he thought it was pleasant, tripping down his spine like warm sand. “They want me to develop my donor virus?”
“How about it, Trisk?” he asked, vowing he’d sabotage the dangerous idea into obscurity before it got anywhere close to being developed. “You could work in a real lab with real resources and people you don’t have to hide yourself from.”
Her lips were parted, and he followed her gaze to a grainy color photo of a lab get-together. She and Daniel were arm in arm, silly party hats on their heads. Rick had said he had a thing for her, and since the man looked like an elf, it was a good bet Trisk had a thing for him. It was hard to leave perfection.
“I know you miss us, Trisk. It won’t be school all over again. I promise.”
She was flushed, her gaze sharp as it fell on him. “I don’t trust you.”
“Fair enough. How about we go for coffee? You and me. We can talk about it.”
Trisk’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not telling you anything about my research.”
The harsh tone was again in her voice. Bringing back the softness would be a challenge—one he wanted to accept. “Fine.” Kal raised a hand for patience. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Why would today be different from any other day?” she said, and then her expression shifted. “What is that smell?”
“I’m sorry for what I did,” Kal said forcefully as Trisk strode over to the shelf where Orchid hid. “I was stupid and insensitive.”
“You spelled my hair blond,” she said, intent as she took first one book down, then another. “Do you have any concept of how embarrassing that was? I was ten, Kal.”
His lips curled up at the memory. He’d done it on a dare. She’d looked awful, worse than he’d ever imagined. Dark elves were built differently, and seeing those fair wisps on her only accented her strong features. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping the smile from his face when she turned. “I was a dumb shit.”
The dark look at the back of her eyes told him he was losing her, and he took a step forward. “Just one cup of coffee. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Orchid’s wings clattered a warning, and Trisk spun. “What did you bring into my lab?” she said, hands glowing again with loosed power.
“Orchid?” Kal called, seeing the dust at the ceiling. She’d flown to the light fixture, and he’d never even seen her move. “Trisk won’t hurt you. If she does, I’ll see her into the ground.”
“Like an elf could catch me,” Orchid said, and Trisk looked up, her face pale.
“What did you do?” Trisk whispered as she followed Kal’s attention to the sifting dust, clearly not knowing what it was. Hardly anyone did anymore.
Kal couldn’t help his smile when Orchid peered over the rim of the fixture, her wings folded prettily behind her head.
“Oh my God,” Trisk whispered, walking backward so she could see better.
“Promise you won’t throw a spell at me,” Orchid said, and Trisk nodded, almost falling when Orchid took to the air to come to a dust-laden hover before her.
“Where . . .” Trisk whispered, and satisfaction filled Kal. “Where did you find a pixy? I thought they were extinct.”
“Not yet,” Orchid said, her dust changing to a melancholy blue. “But the humans are trying very hard.”
Kal held out a hand, and Orchid flew to him, no doubt appreciating the warm perch and safety. “Orchid found me two years ago.”