Page 15 of Horn of Winter

“So, what was the Oldaker incident?” I asked as we walked down to the car.

“An incident you’re better off knowing nothing about.”

“A statement guaranteed to fuel my curiosity.”

“Said curiosity will not be fulfilled.”

“Was it a hit? A theft? A deal gone wrong?”

He rolled his eyes. “Two of those three are correct. More than that, I cannot say.”

“Frustrating.”

“And I’m always willing to help ease said frustrations, but that is not possible in this case.”

He opened the car door, ushered me in, and then directed Henrick to the lane behind my tavern. It didn’t take us all that long to get there, and Mathi insisted on walking me down to the door. Thankfully, nothing untoward happened.

“Thanks,” I said, punching in the code, then holding the door open with my fingertips. “I’m guessing I’ll see you in a couple of hours?”

He nodded. “I’ll pick you up at eight forty-five. It shouldn’t take us all that long to get around to the council’s offices.”

I resisted the urge to kiss him goodbye—old habits continued to die hard—then headed in. Ye Olde Pixie Boots—the name Mom had given the tavern when she’d taken over its running after Gran retired—had now been home to three extremely long-lived generations of Aodhán pixies. It was a listed building that stood in the middle of Deva’s famous rows, and consisted of a small bar in the undercroft at street level, another at Row level, and our living area on the top floor. Aside from a few changes here and there, it was basically the same late medieval building that had been rebuilt on this spot after the fires that had destroyed most of the old city in the late 1400s. I loved the place and really couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Which was going to be a problem if I happened to fall in love with any of the men currently—I determinedly cut the rest of that thought off. As I’d said to Mathi earlier, there was now onlyoneman I dared gift my heart to, and our relationship was still too new to know if that was wise.

I took off my coat and hung it on the nearby hook, then headed down the long, rather narrow hall, moving past thevarious rear storage and cold store areas. But as I reached the door that separated that area from the small ground-floor bar, a sudden realization hit.

I wasn’t alone in the building.

Chapter

Three

I stopped,my heart hammering and my hand automatically reaching for one of my sheathed knives. I might not be formally trained in hand-to-hand knife combat, but I’d been getting plenty of practice in recent times, and I definitely felt safer with the weight of them in my hand. Still, in this case, it might be a tad overkill because, despite sensing the presence of others, there was no immediate suggestion of danger.

I pressed a hand against the door between this rear area and the main room instead, mentally slipping past its song and sliding deeper into the building’s interconnected network of power. To someone like me, it was a roadmap of golden arteries that gave me a deeper understanding—and ultimately control—of not only the building’s fabric but also, more importantly, the location of my two intruders.

The first was upstairs, in my bed, which meant it had to be Eljin. The only other person—aside from Lugh, Sgott, and Darby, of course—who had the code for the electronic lock on the door leading up to the accommodation section was Cynwrig, and the wood song would have told me if he were here. The old building did seem to like him. A lot. Of course, it also appeared to like Mathi, so it obviously wasn’t too discerning.

Why Eljin would be here, I had no idea. He knew Mathi and I were going to the cemetery this evening to talk to the ghul, and he certainly hadn’t called or sent a text saying he was on his way. Of course, it was also totally possible that the still-unread message sitting on my phonewasfrom him.

The second person was seated at the table sitting next to the largest of the three oak beams supporting the upper floor in the bar beyond the door. The wood song couldn’t “show” me that person; it could only speak of the weight resting on its fibers.

Whoever it was sat very lightly, and it wasn’t someone the wood recognized.

So how did they get inside? Aside from the fact I’d bolted the medieval front door before I’d left tonight and the rear door was keypad controlled, this entire building was ringed by protection spells. Anyone intending mischief could not have gotten in. Well, a gifted enough witch could—and in the past, certainly had—but the spells remained intact, suggesting whoever it was out there, they weren’t a mage. Unless, of course, he or she had taken the time to repair the damage they’d caused after breaking in, and why in the hell would they bother doing that?

I drew in a deeper breath and released it slowly. It didn’t help ease the rising tension. Still, the knives weren’t reacting, so that at least confirmed there was no immediate magical threat within that room.

A physical threat remained a possibility, however.

I warily opened the door. The room lay in semi-darkness, lit only by a couple of softly golden lights—one near the bar, the other near the steps leading up to the old door. The stranger didn’t move, and wasn’t immediately visible, thanks to the big old beam they sat behind.

“Whoever you are, I know you’re here. What do you want?”

“I would be disappointed if a pixie of your caliber didnotknow I was here.” Her voice was warm and sultry, withintonations that reminded me a little of Cynwrig’s. “As to why I’m here, I believe it is beyond time we finally met.”

Realization leapt, and something within me stilled. This had to be Treasa, Cynwrig’s twin sister. There could be no other explanation for the similarity of her voice to his or the fact that she’d gotten in here without setting off alarms, physical or magical. Either he’d given her the rear door code, or the magic protecting this place had registered her “feel” as his and hadn’t reacted when she’d used the Lùtair ability to manipulate metal and slid open the front door’s medieval iron locks.

I walked past the bar, my gaze on the table slowly becoming visible, wariness front and center despite the fact I doubted she meant me any immediate harm.

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