Page 18 of Horn of Winter

“That would be ideal, yes.”

“I can certainly try, but I am not my mother, and I generally need something more than a mere name to search out an item.”

Which wasn’t exactly true given I’d certainly searched the codex—which was basically a godly library I now had access to—with nothing more than a simple name before now.

“All I ask is that you try. Usual terms?”

I smiled. “I have no idea what the usual terms might be.”

She laughed. “An admission that would have a less scrupulous person taking full advantage.”

“Cynwrig wouldn’t.”

“Oh, my brother would, if it suited his purposes. He is no angel.”

The kettle boiled, so I made my mug of tea and then walked back over and sat down. “How long have I got to find Geitha?”

“The coronation will be held at the end of the three-month mourning period.”

“Which at least gives me a decent amount of time.” I took a sip of tea. “I take it you’ll pass on any information you might find in the scroll search?”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Which I suspect is a roundabout way of asking if my brother will be in contact with you on this matter, and the answer is no. The rules of mourning forbid physical interaction with lovers who are not of Myrkálfar origins.”

Meaning theydidn’tforbid “interaction” with their own kind. The lovely Orlah—the tall, dark-skinned elf with long, curly black hair and to-die-for figure who’d briefly interrupted our dinner at an upmarket and very expensive restaurant recently—would no doubt take full advantage ofthatsituation. She’d certainly made it abundantly clear that she had her sights set on marriageandhim.

“Unless on a matter of business,” I added, somewhat uselessly, given I already knew what her reply would be.

“Yes, but this is not a matter he can deal with, because of your position in his life.”

I half smiled. “I have no position, remember?”

Her cheeks dimpled. “Oh, I heard you and he had plenty of positions.”

I just about choked on my tea. Talk about getting some of my own medicine back. Darby—my best friend since forever and the light elf who was now dating my brother—and I always sharedsexual gossip, but I just hadn’t expected Cynwrig to be doing the same with his sister.

Although maybe he hadn’t; if she was a reader, she could have easily skimmed that bit of information.

“Well,” I managed, when I could speak again, “he is a dark elf and you lot are very imaginative.”

“Indeed, we are.” She reached into her pocket, drew out three pieces of paper, and handed the first to me. It was a simple black business card. “That is my private number and not to be shared elsewhere. Call me when you find anything, and we can arrange a meeting. It is best not to talk over the phone—the palace has ears, and not all of them are friendly.”

I raised my eyebrows but dragged out my phone, added her name and number to my contacts list, then gave the card back. She nodded and slid the other two pieces of paper across the table to me. The first was an intricately drawn picture of a gorgeous-looking silver pendant that contained two tear-drop-shaped deep red stones—Geitha’s Tears, obviously. I tapped the image. “Are they rubies?”

“No, painite, which is far rarer. It’s a pleochroic stone that emits different hues depending on the angle you’re viewing them from, and has a strong green fluorescence under certain lights.”

Maybe their rarity was why the necklace had gone missing. If the palace had ears then it undoubtedly also had light-fingered thieves—though it’d be a risky business at the best of times stealing from a Myrkálfar, let alone from the Lùtairs.

She motioned to the larger, folded piece of paper. “I debated whether to give that one to you, but given the search for the hoard and the rise of certain darker elements, it’s better that you have it. Make of it what you will.”

She rose, gave me a nod, and left, unlocking the front door with a flick of her hand, then relocking it once she was through.

I picked up the larger piece of paper and unfolded it. It appeared to be an old newspaper article on what looked to be some sort of archeology dig. Before I could read it, wood song whispered of movement. Eljin was awake and up.

I quickly downed the rest of my tea, then rose and tucked the two pieces of paper into the front pocket of my jeans. Instinct was suggesting I keep them to myself for the time being, and I wasn’t about to gainsay her. Not when she’d saved my life multiple times over the last few weeks.

I ran lightly up the stairs to the second floor, punched in the code for the lock, then headed up to my living quarters. The smell of bacon teased my nostrils and my stomach rumbled.

“I heard you moving around downstairs,” he said, the faintest hint of French accenting his warm tones, “and figured you might like a bite to eat.”

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