The other Elves had stopped just outside the house. Beluviel walked forward alone, her step as light and eager as a girl’s, a smile of joy on her bright face.
Suddenly it didn’t matter what Pia wore, or the nature of her troubles and insecurities. The political tensions that had brought her to South Carolina, along with the two SUVs filled with bodyguards, all seemed somehow inconsequential.
Stay back, she said telepathically to Eva as she climbed out of the car.
Oh fuck, said Eva with disgust. You gonna kill me, princess.
Just do it. As Pia walked toward Beluviel, she saw the Elven woman’s eyes fill with tears.
Beluviel said, “I see your mother in you even more strongly in person.”
The love and sadness in Beluviel’s voice were unmistakable. Everything blurred as Pia’s eyes flooded with moisture too. She put out her hands blindly. They were taken in a slender, strong, infinitely gentle grasp.
“I met your mother a very long time ago,” Beluviel said. “So long ago, it was a different age entirely, and humans had not yet begun to walk the Earth. She was always wary but predators had not yet forced her into reclusiveness.” A smile of reminiscence softened her lovely features. “The world was once a much larger place.”
“I never knew,” Pia said.
They sat outside at a wrought-iron table on a flagstone terrace overlooking the extensive gardens that held heirloom azaleas and camellias, gardenias, lilies and roses of all kinds. The gardens were dotted with magnolia and crepe myrtle trees, and the entire garden was profusely, brilliantly in bloom. Even though Pia had been raised a city girl and had never tended anything other than potted plants, she was fairly certain that the other gardens in the area would not be quite so colorful in January.
The day had warmed and the sunlight had grown more intense, or at least it was where they sat. The sun burned away the morning’s rain, and the evaporating moisture shrouded the nearby Wood in a ghostly, shining mist.
She told the consort, “My mom rarely talked of anything that was not in the present. I loved it when she did, but I think remembering made things harder for her. Also she didn’t want to emphasize how different we were from each other. I only just came into my full Wyr form last year, and she had died several years earlier, so she never knew.”
“I know she adopted a variety of different names throughout the years, but to us she embodied something sacred, and we called her Silme.” Beluviel pronounced the name seel-may, and her musical voice made it beautiful. “It means moonlight.”
“I didn’t know that,” Pia whispered. It hurt to think there was so much about her mother that she didn’t know, but that was an old ache that was so familiar it was almost comforting. She sipped her tea. The clear golden liquid was a strange, complex floral brew, and the taste and fragrance filled her with a sense of wellbeing and refreshment. “This tea is wonderful.”
“It is a flowering herb from our Other land,” Beluviel said. “Among its many restorative properties, the tea is quite effective for bouts of nausea. It would be my pleasure to give you some when you leave.”
She looked up quickly. Beluviel’s gaze had dropped to Pia’s waist, and a wistful shadow darkened her brightness for the merest moment. While children were rare for all the Elder Races, they were rarest of all for the Elves. She wondered if Beluviel had borne any children. Of course it wasn’t the kind of thing one asked.
Instead, she said, “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”
“Your father must have been a special man,” Beluviel said.
“I think he was, although I never knew him,” she said. “He died when I was little.” She smiled at the other woman’s quick, questioning look. When Wyr mated they did so for life, and when mated Wyr lost their mates they invariably died. “My mother lived long enough to see me grown.”
Sadness passed over Beluviel’s face. “She was very strong.”
“I think so.”
“Did you grow up in New York?”
She nodded, and time winged away as Beluviel asked her questions about her childhood and they reminisced about her mother. “I was very drawn to her,” Beluviel said. “I adored her wildness. We are so often drawn to that in the Wyr.”
Insight and opportunity dangled in front of Pia. She tried to decide how to take advantage of it without seeming to push too far, too fast. She liked Beluviel so much, and up until that moment she had been happy just to build a rapport in their first real conversation. And the last thing she wanted to do was to come across as being too manipulative or driven solely by an agenda.
As she hesitated, a young Elf boy brought a tray of berry cakes to the table. While he served them, she sat back in her seat and looked around.
Eva stood still and expressionless several feet away, her hands clasped behind her back. The others had remained at the front of the house. Probably they were being served berry cakes too, since apparently the Elves didn’t have any problem with Wyr. They just had a problem with Dragos.
Pia had not been able to convince Eva to stay with them even though she was convinced the Elves meant her no harm. After a brief, intense telepathic argument when they had first arrived, Pia had given in rather than create an awkward moment in front of Beluviel.
Pia glanced at Eva now, uneasy with how much the other woman was hearing of their conversation. The subject of her mother, along with her Wyr form, was like watching a long, slow train wreck.
All she did was tell one secret to her ex-boyfriend Keith.
That’s all. Just one.
Now not only did Dragos know what her Wyr form was (and she was completely and totally okay with that), but all the gryphons did too, along with Beluviel—and that Elf Ferion, wherever he was—and God knew how many other Elves, and what was Eva piecing together in that quick mind of hers?
Pia had known this trip was going to be a challenge, and she figured she was going to have to do some pretty fancy tap dancing, but now the reality of that was beginning to sink home. Now she was no longer sure if she was tap dancing, or if she was hopping about like a cat on a hot tin roof.
“Calondir was looking forward to meeting you too,” Beluviel said. “Unfortunately it looks like he might not be able to do so.”
Pia’s attention snapped back to the consort, and she struggled to hide her dismay. “Is he away?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Beluviel said. “We have received word that an emissary from Numenlaur will be arriving soon.”
“Numenlaurian Elves?” Pia’s gaze widened. Numenlaur was the Other land connected to Europe and the seat of the oldest Elven demesne in the world. They had withdrawn from the outside world so long ago that the details of their existence were shrouded in myth. “I’ve heard it’s rare for them to make contact with the world outside of their borders.”
“It is,” Beluviel said. “We once lived in Numenlaur but have not spoken with our brethren for a very long time. Whatever has compelled them to make this trip must be of overriding importance to them. They would not be comfortable staying in Charleston, and Calondir has gone into the Wood to prepare for their visit. After your stay, I will be joining him.”
Pia savored the last of her delicious berry cake, using it as an excuse to take a moment to think. How much of a roadblock did this represent? While she didn’t exactly have Dragos’s enthusiasm behind this trip, she knew that she had finally gained his approval for trying to repair their relationship with the Elves.
As the High Lord’s consort, did Beluviel have any independent authority to remove the trade embargos levied against the Wyr demesne? If she didn’t, Pia might very well just be having tea and cookies with her. As enjoyable as getting to know Beluviel was, Pia did not plan on enduring a separation from Dragos just for that.