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While Leaf blinked at me with the tip of her wing in her mouth, and Crusty increased her swinging and started to sing, Garbage screwed up her face and tried to be serious.

“It. That. It. Him. It. Saw.” With a smile of complete self-satisfaction at completing her duties, Garbage fell asleep.

Leaf took that as a sign for her to follow, and almost flopped out of my hand as she lost consciousness. Crusty, the most impervious of them all, kept swinging and singing. Luckily for me, her voice was so soft I couldn’t really hear it. Faery singing was considered cruel and unusual torture by most species.

“Crusty? Sweetie? What happened? Do you know what Garbage saw?”

Crusty shut her mouth, wiped one tiny hand on the front of her overalls then nodded. That, and releasing of one hand, brought her swinging into a bigger arc. I grabbed her before she slammed into the side of my head again. She looked around, seeming to study the walls and ceiling for a few moments. Finally she leaned forward as if she had all the secrets in the world. “Nothing.” She tried to hold my gaze, failed, then collapsed.

Crap. I’d had a long day. All I wanted to do was relax a bit, then go home to bed. Now some vampy tree nymph was after one of my oldest friends and my faeries had been poisoned or spelled. With those boozers there was no way they could have passed out that quickly, not having just flown to me anyway. Crusty had seemed drunk when they first hit me, but she usually seemed that way, even when stone sober. But the other two were pissed at something when they slammed into my head; the apparent drunkenness had come afterwards. I looked around the pub while I tucked my unconscious little housemates into various pockets in my jacket.

There didn’t seem to be anyone watching us, at least no one that I could see. Maybe I was just being paranoid. Who would waste a spell on a bunch of faeries? Granted their status was much better after the Battle of Beccia, but they still wouldn’t be worth the cost of a drunk spell.

Most likely the troublemakers had gotten into something they shouldn’t have and it just had a delayed reaction.

After a final glance around the pub, to make sure someone really wasn’t setting me or the girls up, I went back to my food. After seeing the faeries turn into drunken piles right before my eyes, I’d lost my urge for alcohol. But the meat and bread were still warm, and Foxy had even thrown in some vegetables. I was starting to enjoy it when someone screamed.

Chapter Two

Anything loud enough to be heard distinctly over the regular rumble of the pub was extremely loud. Focused. And most likely dangerous.

The explosion of sound that followed the initial scream came from the kitchen. The combination of yelling, screaming, and probably every pot and pan being thrown, created one giant wall of sound that burst into the pub itself along with the forcible ejection of the cook.

I had no idea that minotaurs could fly. And somehow I didn’t think the cook was ever going to want to try it again. Once he was able to move, that was. Whoever, or whatever, threw him did so with enough force to send him slamming into the far wall.

All eyes were on the pile of minotaur slumped against the base of the wall. No one looked behind us until a high-pitched scream pierced the room.

Amara, Foxy’s barmaid and love interest, was the one doing the screaming, or squealing really. She hit a pitch that I think only the faeries would understand. The one causing the screaming was the mountain troll trying to see if he could shove her through the ceiling, head first.

Trolls weren’t common in Beccia. For the most part they didn’t like confined spaces—like cities—but mixed breeds weren’t that rare. But this looked to be a full-blooded mountain troll, who would give Dogmaela a run for her money if she weren’t off on vacation. His tusks were longer than Foxy’s and looked like he used them regularly.

A quick glance around the pub told me we hadn’t gained any seriously big fighters in the last few seconds. And that everyone was looking right at me.

“What?” I knew I should be watching the troll trying to turn the dryad into sap, but their looks were just so shocking. Like they really expected me to jump up and stop this thing.

The troll yelled something unintelligible and rattled Amara at the ceiling again. Then a blur tore through the tables and chairs and dove at the troll.

“Foxy?” I had to shake my head to make sure whatever had knocked out the faeries wasn’t affecting me. Not that Foxy couldn’t fight; he could. And well, when the need called for it. I’d just never seen him move that fast before. His fighting style was more of a slow-moving wall that eventually crushed his enemy.

Not tonight. Tonight he was possessed. His first two blows were to make the troll free Amara, then the next two were to knock the troll to his knees.

A whimper from Amara almost lost the fight for him though, as he turned to check on her and the troll reached out a trunk-like leg and knocked Foxy to the ground.

Without thinking I grabbed a chair and ran forward, then jumped on the bar so I could reach the troll. Actually, there were thoughts going through my head as I swung the chair at the troll’s body—most of them about how stupid this was.

It was one thing to go after some tree nymph I didn’t know and was beginning to think I didn’t like. But it was totally different to go after one of my friends.

The jarring in both arms as my blow struck the troll, and shattered the chair, was not a good sign. It also knocked me off balance and I crashed onto the bar.

The good news was Foxy was safe. He’d rolled out of the way when I jumped up on the bar. The dryad was also safe. I, however, was another case completely.

The impact of striking the troll and crashing to the bar left me dazed, and one boulder-sized hand was reaching toward me to take care of my in-one-piece-and-still-conscious problem.

A scream was starting in my belly when a crossbow bolt whizzed past me and thunked the troll in the head.

Even with a good couple of inches of metal protruding out of his skull, the dumb brute didn’t look like he realized what happened. His hand kept moving toward me even as his eyes were glazing over.

A dark form leapt up on the bar, got between me and the troll, and shoved the dying beast away. Lean and obviously male, he was wearing a long black cloak with the hood up. Had Alric come back? My heart pounded faster and not because of my near brush with death. I wasn’t sure how I felt about his return after the way he left me—but not all of my immediate feelings were bad.

“Alric?” The man that turned, while easily as handsome as Alric, was definitely not him. His face was longer and more refined, with a definite cleft in his chin. He reached down to help me stand up on the bar, but it was difficult with him trying to be gentle and me sitting like a lump of bricks just gaping at him.

His rich black hair was vibrant and thick, and his face could make an angel weep with unrepentant lust. And if those tilted silver eyes and pointed ears were an indication, he was an elf. I’d never seen a full elf outside of drawings. No one had. They’d vanished over a thousand years ago.

Being rescued by a member of the mythological race whose abandoned ruins were the source of one’s livelihood was enough to shock anyone. His looks and the genuine concern in his eyes as he continued to try and help me were enough to keep me glued to the bar.

“Please forgive me. I should have stopped him sooner.” His voice was like a rich chocolate sauce being poured over molten honey.

Considering I was pretty sure he’d run in from the outside when he fired that crossbow bolt, I wasn’t sure how he could have improved his response time.

“Um, thanks?” That sounded lame even as the words came out of my mouth. But I was lucky that anything came out. He took that as an okay to pull me to my feet and stood there rubbing my hand and smiling.

The hand that, while clean enough, wouldn’t look it until I scrubbed it for a few hours. Digging all day in hard mud and sediment did that to flesh—the dirt ground itself in.

I tried to pull my hand back before he could get a good look at it, but ended up only unbalancing us both. I’d forgotten that we were now standing on top of Foxy’s bar.

Even though many a regular had more or less successfully completed a drunken jig on this bar top, it wasn’t as easy as they made it look and my pulling back sent us crashing to the floor.

But, true to their mythos of grace, the handsome stranger managed to correct our fall and land both of us on our feet.

He also let go of my hand.

“Thank you, again,” I said, finally finding my vocal cords coming back to life. “I’m Taryn.”

The smile he gave me at my name could have knocked an ogre out. “I’m Glorinal, and I am very pleased that the evening’s mishaps have left you uninjured.” He turned back toward Foxy who was carefully cradling Amara. “Is your lady all right? I hope you forgive me for intruding on your battle.”

It was a good thing Glorinal was looking away from me. My face flamed as I realized that while I’d been losing myself in a pair of silver elven eyes, I’d completely forgotten one of my dearest friends. But looking at Foxy, I realized he wouldn’t have noticed if anyone else was in the bar. He and Amara were staring into each other’s eyes like lost souls.

“We’re fine, aren’t we, my love?” He didn’t look up as he spoke but snuggled his big head next to hers. The cooing sounds they were both making were a bit much though.

The huge, muddy boot sticking out from behind the side of the bar shook me back to reality. “Who was he and what was he doing here?”

A thin raspy voice broke the silence. “I think I know,” Amara said but her throat obviously had been hurt by the troll. “I thought I would be safe here, but I was wrong. I am sorry I brought this upon you, my love. I will leave now.”

Foxy never gambled or played cards, he was that awful at hiding his emotions. Now granted, with a face like his it took time to read those emotions, but once you knew him, there was no hiding the looks.

“Ye cannot leave. I shall protect you with my life, fair lady.”

The look on his face had told me something of that sort would be coming out, but I’d never heard him speak like that. Maybe Glorinal was contagious.

An awkward cough coming from behind me in the unnaturally silent pub reminded me we had an audience. I knew that even though he didn’t care at this moment, Foxy was going to be mortified if his mushiness carried on and was heard by his customers. I turned to the crowd and waved. “All right folks, excitement is over. Go back to your drinking.” I nodded to the two remaining barmaids, two very nice half-giants, to go back to serving.

But for once in the history of the Shimmering Dewdrop, drinking wasn’t happening. As a single unit, the entire bar patronage stood and waited for something more to happen.

I looked back at Foxy and Amara and knew I needed to do something. Not to mention that anything the dryad had done to bring such a heavy hit man after her probably wasn’t what a room full of drunks, some of whom were probably assassins themselves, should hear.

But Glorinal stepped in again.

“And did I mention, the next round is on me? I did crash your party after all.”

Like a spell had been lifted, everyone in the bar shook themselves and went back to their tables with a cheer. A few watched Glorinal for a few minutes, most likely diggers trying to figure out if he really was a full-blooded elf, or one of the mixed breeds that popped up from time to time. But free ale overwhelmed their curiosity.

I waited a few minutes then moved closer to Glorinal. Bad move. The guy even smelled gorgeous. Woodsy with just a hint of spicy exoticness. He was quietly asking Amara about her attacker. But I figured we had other issues.

“I agree we need to find out why she was attacked, but shouldn’t we get rid of the body?” Usually bodies and bar brawls didn’t cause the guard to come and investigate, but there was something about this situation that made me think they just might. And I’d noticed a couple people leave moments after Glorinal and I had survived our tumble off the bar.

I didn’t think the guards would do a full investigation—not in this neighborhood—but I wouldn’t put it past them to come down and poke around. And that troll was taking up most of the room behind the bar. Luckily, giants had little love for trolls, so the barmaids were stomping on his body to get their drink orders filled. But still, it couldn’t stay there. Yes, the entire bar had seen the attack, but the likelihood of them remembering it decreased if the body wasn’t around to remind them.

“I believe I may be of service, at least for a temporary solution. You will want to wait until the closing of this place to actually remove the body.” At Foxy’s distracted nod, Glorinal dipped his head then began muttering a series of low and very arcane-sounding words. Covey would have died to have been here—I was actually hearing a spell spoken in the elven tongue. Of course Covey would pretty much have to be dead to step one foot in the Shimmering Dewdrop. Especially now since she’d gone into seclusion.

With a flourish of his hand at the end of an oddly accented word, the body of the troll vanished. If I squinted really hard I could still see it, but it took a strong magic user to cast a spell that would affect me.

Glorinal turned back to me, but his face was far paler than it had been.

“He is now hidden from all eyes, both magical and physical. But I regret that I will not be able to hold it for long.”

“You’re a full-blooded elf.” Not really what I meant to say out loud, and certainly not with the whisper of wistfulness that I heard coming out in my words.

He gave a slight bow that managed to look courtlier than anything I’d ever seen before. “Yes, milady, I am one of the few of the elven race who survived. A very small enclave of us live past the Lydian Mountains. Sadly, my powers, like those of my kin, are not what they once were. The centuries have taken their toll.”

I knew standing there with my jaw popping open like a hooked fish was probably pretty unattractive, but I had so many questions. If he could tell me why the elves left, why there were so few, and why they were just coming out of hiding now, I could die a happy woman. I was already trying to figure out a way to find patronage funding for an investigative trip to and over the Lydian Mountains. It would be a long journey, probably at least a year round trip. Maybe Covey could get the university to help with costs….

I stopped my plans as I realized he was watching me with a knowing smile.

“You can read minds, too?” I didn’t know elves had been able to do that but he certainly looked like he’d seen the whirlwind taking place inside my head.

The laugh he gave was akin to very masculine bells ringing. A bit disturbing but still sexy as hell. “Nay. I can only read the thoughts flitting about your face. It is clear that you are one of the skilled archeologists that give Beccia the reputation as the center of elven lore. The excitement of meeting one of the race you study was clear as the moon off the wings of a night bird.”

“Sorry. It’s just so amazing. Do you know why your people fled?”

“I can do better than that.” His smile deepened a few notches. “I can tell you exactly what happened. I was there.”