Lord's Fall (13 page)

Those at the front of the party passed around a huge age-darkened granite boulder. She looked up at the massive stone. As she neared, what had appeared at first to be random bulges and hollows aligned into an Elven face with noble features and an inscrutable expression. It was impossible to tell if the face was male or female. The sculpture held her mesmerized until she came too close to discern it, and then the stone became just a stone again.

“Will you look at that,” Eva whispered.

“What?” She glanced at the captain who was staring forward, and she looked in that direction too. At first she didn’t notice anything that might cause Eva’s wonder. The travelers from the front of the group had stopped in a clearing at the foot of a rocky waterfall, the fast-flowing, turbulent river ribboning into the trees. Elves dismounted with smiles of pleasure. They called out to others who came to greet them.

Then her perspective shifted as it had with the massive stone face, and she saw the building. It spanned the top of the waterfall, by some trick of architectural genius seeming as if suspended in the air. The building had several levels, its lines modern and ultra-plain. The outside walls were covered in plain sheets of reflective glass so that it all but disappeared from sight.

Once she saw it she couldn’t look away, and she only dismounted when Eva nudged her knee. Beluviel approached, looking as fresh and bright as she had that morning. The consort said simply, “Welcome to our home.”

Pia blinked and forced herself to concentrate on the other woman. “Thank you. It’s stunning.”

Beluviel regarded the building with the same inscrutable expression from earlier when they had talked about the tree table. “We loved the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Pennsylvania, Fallingwater, so much we chose to emulate something of that style. We finished rebuilding in the 1970s.”

She and Eva walked with Beluviel to the wide, winding staircase that had been carved into the stone by the fall, while the other Wyr gathered their packs from the horses and followed close behind. Pia forced her strained, quivering thigh muscles to work and matched the consort step for step.

As they climbed, two tall, Powerful Elves, both male, appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs and watched their approach. One of the males was Calondir. The other was Ferion, whom Pia had met last May in Folly Beach.

Both Elven males wore serious expressions. The High Lord’s hair was long and sable dark, and bound back tightly, his eyes a bright, startling blue. In the May teleconference, Pia hadn’t noticed the resemblance between Ferion and Calondir, but in person, the similarity between the two males was unmistakable. They both had the same strong, elegant bone structure.

Beluviel paused on the top step, and instinctively Pia paused with her. The High Lord and his consort faced each other with cool, perfect courtesy.

Calondir said, “Lady.”

“My lord,” Beluviel murmured.

Pia’s eyebrows slid up before she could get in control of her expression. Maybe she and Dragos would greet each other so coolly too, after they had been together for a bajillion years, but somehow she didn’t think so.

Then Calondir turned to her and inclined his head. “Greetings, Lady of the Wyr.”

Greetings, not welcome. Even though Calondir didn’t show any hint of his emotions, she was suddenly convinced that the High Lord was blazingly furious.

Clearly he was not falling over himself with excitement at her arrival.

Oy vey.

SEVEN

T
he undercurrents that swirled around Ferion, Beluviel and Calondir were stifling. Pia received the distinct impression that the three of them exchanged an intense storm of telepathic words while she faced the High Lord’s ageless, closed expression. Meeting his cool, Powerful gaze was one of the more challenging things she’d done since, well, since she’d argued with Dragos in the middle of the night.

Suddenly the pressure from the last two days, hell, the last seven months, welled up, and it had to go somewhere outside of her body or she would combust. She cast about mentally . . . where, where . . . but in the end, there was really only one place for it to go.

She said in Eva’s head,
I’m in so far over my head in so many ways, I don’t even know where shore is anymore.

Steady on, Tinker Bell,
Eva said calmly.
Man shits like anybody else do.

She did not just hear that. Her poise, having already grown precarious, splintered. She bent sharply at the waist and leaned her hands on her knees. Vaguely she was aware of a ripple of reaction passing through the others.

A strong, brown hand curled around her bicep and gripped her hard. “There’s no need to be alarmed,” Eva said crisply. “She just isn’t much of a rider. She has been suffering from a leg cramp, that’s all.”

Captain Psycho’s speech was polished, educated, and her grammar beautifully correct. And damn that woman, she could lie. Pia’s truthsense insisted on Eva’s sincerity.

“Yes, I’m all right,” Pia said hoarsely. She kept it simple, not even attempting to match Eva’s duplicity. “My apologies.” She told Eva,
You’re pure fucking evil, and I hate you passionately.

I know, my bitch goddess too hot for some to handle
, Eva said. Even in her telepathic voice, she sounded complacent.

SHUT UP.

Opposite Eva, Beluviel took Pia’s other arm for support as she straightened. The consort’s wide gaze was warm with concern. Beluviel asked, “Are you able to walk?”

“Yes, thank you,” Pia said.

“Other issues need my attention,” Calondir said. “I’ll take my leave now.”

Pia saw everything she had worked for slipping through her fingers as the High Lord turned away.

Anger sparked. Sure, an upcoming visit from Numenlaurians must be hugely important, but the Elves had invited her first, dammit.

She said, “Sir.”

Calondir paused to look back at her, one eyebrow raised in imperious inquiry.

In the end, she spoke as plainly as she had several months ago when she had first addressed him. “I know you are very busy, and you have a great deal on your mind. That is why I was so honored at your invitation. I’ve made it my priority to visit despite the distance and the important developments occurring in my own demesne.” She knew the original invitation had come from Beluviel, but just as Dragos had to agree to the visit, Calondir had to have put his stamp of approval on it, and she couldn’t afford to let him wriggle out of granting her an audience. People in the Wyr demesne needed for her to succeed at reestablishing trade agreements. She finished, “I hope you might find time for a short talk.”

He regarded her unsmilingly, then inclined his head. “Thank you for your effort in making the journey. I appreciate your dedication and hope you have a restful evening. Good night.”

Argh, that was it? No promise to talk later? Just a dismissal? What the fuck? Pia’s lips tightened as Calondir turned his back to her again and walked away.

She looked at Beluviel. The consort stared after Calondir, her posture stiff. “Ferion and Linwe,” said the consort, “would you kindly show Pia and her people to their rooms?”

“Of course,” Ferion said immediately.

Pia looked around to discover who Linwe was. She found the blue-haired Elven girl standing just behind the consort. The girl bounced a little on the balls of her toes. After Calondir’s Powerful, mature presence and tension-filled greeting, Linwe’s blue-tipped hair seemed cheerfully barbaric. The sight lifted Pia’s spirits quite unreasonably.

Beluviel said to Pia, “Please don’t hesitate to tell either Ferion or Linwe if there is anything that you or your group requires. Perhaps if you are interested, one of them can show you around tomorrow. In the meantime I will say good evening as well.”

After the warmth and support Beluviel had shown over the last two days, her abrupt departure on top of Calondir’s rebuff felt like a slap in the face. Pia didn’t know if she was angry or just confused. She did know she didn’t trust herself to speak. She gave the consort a curt nod.

Beluviel hesitated, dark gaze searching Pia’s expression. Then the consort said telepathically,
Forgive me for bringing you all this way only to abandon you this evening. The emissary from Numenlaur arrived this afternoon, several days earlier than expected, and their mission is one of some urgency. Calondir and I are needed elsewhere at the moment.

The emissary was already here? No wonder Calondir looked less than thrilled at her arrival. This trip was rapidly going from bad to worse.

I understand,
Pia said, because in the end there was nothing else she could say.

I will be in touch. Rest well.
Beluviel brushed her cheek with cool lips and followed in Calondir’s footsteps, her long stride rapid.

Pia bit back her impatience. It had been another long, frustrating day. Her back ached like a bastard, and no matter how much she wanted it, she couldn’t expect an instant resolution to any of the issues that had brought her here. At the rate things were going, she might not even get a chance to talk with Calondir at all.

At least this meant she could go to bed soon, right?

That thought did not exactly put her in a more cheerful mood. She and Dragos had too much unresolved between them. But the interminable day was nearly over, which meant she could hope to get on a better footing with him. Missing him had turned into a deep ache, only now she didn’t just miss his physical presence. She also desperately, fiercely missed their lack of rapport.

She turned to Ferion, who regarded her with a faint smile. “Lady, please forgive our preoccupation with other matters,” he said. “Your visit deserves better than this. It is good to see you again.”

Somewhat mollified, she said, “Hello, Ferion. How are you?”

“I am well, thank you,” he said. “Although I will always regret that you did not come to stay with us last summer.”

Her returning smile was wry. Ferion had led the party that had responded to her distress call when Dragos had crossed the Elven border without permission and had broken his treaties with them. The Elves had shot Dragos with a poisoned arrow, and then someone had told Urien, the Dark Fae King, what had happened.

A lot of bad things had come out of that. She and Dragos had been kidnapped, beaten and nearly killed. But a lot of good had come out of it too, like the first time she and Dragos had made love. They would probably never know which Elf had been Urien’s informant, and so much had happened since then that the information had become irrelevant. Urien was dead, and whatever alliances or loyalties any Elf might have had to him were dead also.

“All of that is water under the bridge now,” she told Ferion.

If he heard the double message in that statement, he didn’t show it. With a polite gesture, he invited her to walk with him, and Linwe and the rest followed.

It had been impossible for Pia to get a sense of how large the house really was when she had been looking at it from below. The reflective outside walls had messed with her sense of depth perception, as her mind kept insisting that she looked at sky and trees.

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.