Page 22 of Elven Lies

Here was a feast that could have satisfied a dozen guests. Sure enough, a dozen places had been dutifully set around the table, as if their host also expected and had prepared for a dinner party.

The closer Rebecca and Maxwell approached, the more tantalizing the odor of every sweet and savory dish on display. When her mouth watered involuntarily, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She was more likely to be sick, even on an empty stomach, than to take part inthisfeast.

Maxwell’s deepening scowl and flaring nostrils hinted at a similar response.

All around them were signs of habitation, proving this basement occupied and in current use. But so far, Rebecca and Maxwell seemed to be alone—no sign of staff or even Harkennr himself.

Even worse, there was no sign of Nyx.

Which made this setup that much more suspicious.

Before they’d crossed halfway to the dining table, with all its set places and matching chairs intricately carved and equally polished, a soft rumble rose from the other end of the room. Like stone churning against stone and something heavy and cumbersome rotating within the depths of the prison.

At first, Rebecca suspected it came from behind those drawn curtains into the private bedroom, but there was no sign of movement there, either.

“Ah, you’ve made it.”

The low, silky-smooth voice piercing the otherwise calming ambiance made Rebecca’s blood run cold.

“And right on time, too.”

She spun around to face the voice, and there he was, in the flesh. Kordus Harkennr, smiling amicably at his guests as he pointed toward the enormous grandfather clock beside him and lifted a manicured eyebrow.

A deep, reverberating gong emanated from the antique timepiece to fill the entire room. Though the bells sounded ten times in casual succession, it felt more like time stood still until the very last finally tolled.

Neither Rebecca nor Maxwell moved after turning to face their host, eyeing Harkennr while simultaneously preparing for any other surprises yet to emerge at any moment.

As the tenth and final chime echoed through the room and finally faded, Harkennr closed his eyes, as if the sound hadtransported him to another time and place. Likely one he’d attempted to recreate down here.

A delicate hum of approval escaped him before he opened his eyes again and clasped his hands together. He no longer grinned, but even a closed-lipped smile that would have looked friendly and hospitable on anyone else made Rebecca’s caution flare, her senses vibrating on high alert.

Everything about this seemed too calm, too civil, tooeasy. Especially when she’d planned to never even hear the name Harkennr again after she’d taken her leave of him so many decades ago. Then he’d popped right back up in front of her with that damn welcome package sent to Shade’s new Roth-Da’al.

Harkennr’s bright green eyes flashed with their own brighter light when he centered them on his guests again, amusement rippling across his features. “I do so adore that sound. An entirely different song all its own. Thank you for humoring me. And here we are.”

He spread his arms wide as if to welcome them again, looking no less dangerous in his tailored dinner jacket and tails of the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries’ outrageously formal style. The single out-of-place detail was the pair of pristine white hand gloves he plucked from each finger, one at a time, as he studied his new arrivals. “I must say, this is exactly what I’d hoped for. An informal meeting with Shade’s new Roth-Da’al. Please. Join me, and we’ll get started.”

Harkennr gestured toward the dining table with one hand while tucking his gloves away in the pocket of his dinner jacket with the other. He wasted no time in waiting for his guests but instead headed straight for the chair at the head of the table, smiling calmly and watchful the whole way.

Rebecca felt Maxwell’s intention to open his mouth and did not want him saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Even if he’d been to a 1920s-era themed dinner party, for whateveroddly coincidental reason, he’d never spoken with Kordus Harkennr. Not like this.

So she stepped forward before Maxwell said a word and took the lead herself. “Thank you. Before we get started, though, we need to see the katari.”

Harkennr didn’t stop walking, but he did look up at her again as he approached his chair with a nod. “Of course. I can assure you she is quite safe and entirely unharmed.”

His chair whispered heavily across the ornate rug beneath the table as he pulled it out for himself.

“You can understand our difficulty in taking you at your word on that,” Maxwell added as he stepped up beside Rebecca. His words were calm and confident, carrying their usual formality that didn’t seem nearly as out of place here as it did at Shade headquarters. Even when a barely audible growl punctuated the end of his statement.

Harkennr’s brilliant green eyes widened with another pulse of their own light as he regarded the shifter. Then he nodded again and settled daintily into his chair. “I understand your suspicions, shifter. And I do intend to put them to rest before we’ve finished here.”

His gaze then swung cheerily toward Rebecca’s face again, as if gauging her reaction and level of approval.

But he didn’t say anything abouthersuspicions, and she believedthatwas the silent message in his gaze.

Harkennr didn’t need to express his understanding toher. They’d already covered that ground together, a long time ago.

“Still,” Rebecca continued, treading carefully while still compelled to assert her position as obviously and simply as possible before they did anything else. “We also came for her. And the katari’s well-being is just as much of a priority.”

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