Page 20 of Elf Shot

"Are we too late to see the Northern Lights?"

"They are usually winding up at this time of year, but you can never predict when they will put on a show," Tor replied. "Have you seen them before?

"No, but I've always wanted to. Are they amazing?"

"The most beautiful things you'll ever see in your life."

They pulled up at a hotel on a fjord. Its walls were all glass to take in the landscape and water. The staff in the lobby didn't even ask Arne to check in, just passed him key cards.

"We have the whole hotel booked for the summit," he explained to Layla. "Apart from a few staff members, you are the only human. I've got you a room between mine and Tor's for safety reasons."

"You think I'm in danger?" she asked. She thought of the bag of magical tricks that Charlotte had prepared for her. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to carry a few surprises with her, just in case.

"No one and nothing would dare attack you or anyone else here. The hotel is warded up, and I'll set the wards on your room myself," Arne replied.

They rode the elevator up in silence, Layla suddenly grateful that she had her daggers in her boots. Arne was doing his best to reassure her, but the hunter in her was suspicious that they needed the wards at all.

Arne opened the door to her room and checked it over. Layla's breath caught at the floor to ceiling windows and incredible view of the fjord and the mountains and the forest surrounding it.

Arne went to another interior door and opened it. "I'm in here if you need anything."

"I thought you said we had rooms next to each other, not the same room with a door," Layla said, tossing her bag on the queen bed.

"I'll see you two at dinner," Tor backed out and disappeared across the hall.

Arne leaned against the door frame. "I won't violate your privacy, Layla. I only want to be close in case something happens."

"Like what? You keep telling me I'm safe, but everything you're doing is indicating that I'm not."

"It's not like that at all. You are safe. I'm taking extra precautions because of who you are, that's all."

Layla finally realized what he was getting at. "Because the fae princes are my family and you don't want a fight with them if anything should happen."

"What? No. It's not about the princes. It's because you're Layla Ironwood," Arne said. "The dinner begins at seven. Tor or I will come and get you." He closed the door and locked it, leaving Layla more confused over his behavior than ever.

* * *

Layla swiped more dark maroon lipstick on her lips and double checked she hadn't gotten foundation on her neckline. She didn't know how formal the events at the summit were going to be, so she had packed clothing that could be dressed up or down. Being an Ironwood, she also chose functionality. The black velvet jump suit had long split sleeves and a wide enough pant leg to hide the daggers strapped to her shins.

The temperature inside the hotel was warm enough to not need a jacket, so she placed a black fur stole around her shoulders. She had curled her platinum hair and pinned the top half back in a loose style that suited her. She had been going for classy goth rock, and she had nailed it in her humble opinion.

Nerves fluttered along her ribs. It was her first event of this type alone. Well, not totally alone. Torsten would be close by and Arne… Well, she didn't know what was going on with him.

His words on the flight about asking her out and that he was protecting her because she was Layla had shaken her. It had been easier to be angry at him than have her crush rearing its ugly head again. She didn't know if it was incredibly stupid or incredibly hopeful for her to think she had a chance with someone like him.

She brushed the tattoo on the side of her wrist. It said 'I choose me' in Tolkien's elvish, and it had been her first tattoo. She had gotten it as a reminder that she didn't have to be anyone's first choice as long as she was her own.

"Play it by ear, and see what happens," she told her reflection.

There was a knock at the door when Layla was zipping her high heel ankle boots, the same red color as her lipstick.

"Coming!" she called and hurried to open it. Torsten wore a steel gray suit with a black shirt and tie, his hair braided back neatly. Layla fanned herself with her hand. "Gosh, Tor. Don't you clean up handsome."

"As do you, hunter," he teased, gesturing her to spin. "I feel sorry for Arne already."

Layla frowned and looked about for her room key. "Why?"

"No reason. Are you ready?"

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