Page 47 of Horn of Winter

I crossed my arms. “You want me in to do a facial composite?”

“I’ll send Jenny around to the tavern tomorrow. I’m thinking you need to be getting home and resting up for your big night.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think Eljin will appreciate me faceplanting into the middle of my fancy appetizer.”

“Never a good thing,” Sgott agreed sagely, then motioned to a nearby officer. “Mandy will escort you both back to the mini. Please obey the speed limits on the way back.”

Darby laughed. “I think the cobwebs have been well and truly shaken from her engines today.”

“No doubt, but the warning still applies, given the number of speeding tickets you have on record.” He stepped back and motioned us forward.

As we fell in step behind Mandy and moved away from him, Darby said, “So where’s Eljin taking you tonight?”

“Viridis.”

Darby sucked in a breath. “Is he aware that was one of the first places Cynwrig took you to, and that it’s likely to raise unwanted comparisons, no matter how much you try to avoid it?”

“No, and I won’t be mentioning it either. Besides, we’ll likely be in a completely different area, given Cynwrig appeared to have a permanent table there.”

“Well, he does like treating his harem well.”

Indeed, he did. And I did not want to think about how much I missed that. Missed him.

And I was seriously becoming something of a lost cause who really needed to move on.

Would I though?

Probably not, I thought, a smile tugging at my lips. At least, not until I’d decided whether it was worth the risk of donning the bracelet and tasting the delights of sex on the dreaming plane.

Darby dropped me off close to Eastgate Street and as I walked down to the tavern, I sent the two names to Mathi, asking if he could chase up some contact details and telling him why I needed them. The tavern wasn’t busy, and, after checking in with Ingrid again, I headed upstairs. Eljin wasn’t picking me up until eight, so that gave me a good four hours to sleep before I had to start getting ready. After opening the old sash window just enough to allow a slither of wind entry, I connected to the frame’s fibers to lightly lock it in place, ensuring that no one else—not even a damn rat—could get in. Then I stripped off and fell into bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

Eljin opened the umbrella, then offered me a hand and helped me out of the Uber. The night was positively shitty, the storm I’d sensed earlier having hit about an hour ago. I’d been briefly tempted to just wear dress pants and a warm sweater, but this place—and this man—deserved something better. After much indecision, I’d gone with a form-fitting emerald-green sheath dress, long, soft leather boots, and a thick woolen coat. Eljin hadn’t seen the dress yet, and I was definitely anticipating a heated reaction.

The room we entered wasn’t particularly large, but filled with Victorian splendor. The tables were well spaced, the lighting muted, and while there was no evidence of a bar, there was one here and it served some seriously good—and seriously expensive—alcohol.

A dapper-looking older woman approached, took care of our coats and the umbrella, and then, after checking our booking, said, “Please, this way, Mr. Lavigne.”

Eljin didn’t answer. He could barely even nod. The dress and the boots, it seemed, had the desired effect.

We were led through the stylish and beautiful room to a staircase near the back. I once again ran my fingers across the worn and obviously original volute at the base of the stairs and let them drift along the curved oak handrail as we moved up. Its song danced through me, and I couldn’t help smiling. This building had been a long and happy resting place for the wood in this staircase, and there weren’t many left in Deva of this age that could make such a boast.

Last time I’d been here, we’d been escorted to the more intimate loft space, but this time, we stepped off at the first floorand were led across to a cute table located between the lovely old Victorian fireplace and the sash windows dominating the front of the building. There were three tables here, all occupied by couples. This was not a place where you brought kids.

The older woman—whose name was Leanne, according to her badge—seated us, then handed us a drink menu. “Would you like to order a drink now, or would you prefer a few minutes to scan the menu?”

I placed my purse under the table, then said, “I might try the Glenlivet Nadurra, please.”

“And you, sir?” Leanne asked.

He pursed his lips, then said, “I’ll have the Royal Salute Old Snow.”

“Both excellent choices. I shall return with your drinks and to take your meal order presently.”

As she walked away, he leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table, his gaze sliding slowly from my lips to my neck to my breasts. My nipples puckered, despite how warm the small room was, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“That dress leaves little to the imagination and I have to admit, I’m somewhat torn.”

I raised an eyebrow, amusement lurking. “Over what?”

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