Page 22 of Hostile Holiday

“I think you are trying to do too much, and the glow is burning out your glamour, little star.”

“Dang. Lead the way.”

“Take my hand.” His voice was soft.

Orla looked at his serious expression and put her fingers against his palm. His fingers closed around her hand, and he ledher out of the library and through the hall to a greenhouse filled with warlocks and mages seated on wide couches.

Orla smiled and looked around. “So, which one of you is my father?”

Chapter Five

The shock that rippled through them was funny.

Hunter muttered, “Orla. It is a serious matter.”

“Is it? According to tradition, I was never supposed to know and wassupposedto be seamlessly absorbed into my family.” She shrugged.

Hunter walked with her to a set of chairs that looked at the other three groups. He settled her, and she looked at the group around her. One had a woman who had her features, and another group had a man who had her normal brown eyes. The third set was a man who radiated power with his wife and their third at his side.

The woman smiled and wiggled her fingers at Orla.

Orla smiled. “Hi, Maven.”

Argo and Olmin were with her.

She recognized them from the shop. They were regular customers and got a lot of very specific furniture for very specific activities.

Hunter paused. “You know them?”

“Yes, they come into the shop for custom work, and Maven has to try it on.”

Olmin smiled. “She’s an excellent salesperson and very knowledgeable about the available supplies.”

Hunter looked at her. “Salesperson?”

“I work at a custom furniture store.” She shrugged. “People come in with ideas, and I help them design the reality with materials that can hold up to their purposes.”

Maven smiled. “She’s very good.”

Hunter snorted. “Of course she is. She’s a star.”

The other two families perked up.

She glowed softly and looked at him. “So, who are the other families?”

He gestured toward the man with the brown eyes that were so familiar. “These are the Brenethki Clan.”

The man looked at her and said, “Your features are just like hers.”

“Yes. It is a pity she died fifteen years ago.”

He frowned. “Natural causes?”

Orla shook her head. “No. Grandpa threw her down the stairs. I tried to tell the police, but he bribed them to ignore me. I left after the funeral.”

His face crumpled. “He was bound to protect her.”

Orla nodded. “He was until I turned fifteen. Then there was no binding that protected her from having the bastard that her husband had convinced her to bear for power and money.”

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