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“No,” he said, feeling stubborn, eyeing Batya once more. “This will do nicely.”
Batya pathed, Sure you don’t want the tee because that deep voice of yours has an edge.
I’ll give you an edge.
Batya sipped her coffee and met his gaze over the rim. Promises, promises. She gestured for him to take the seat at the head of the table.
He growled softly in what he hoped sounded menacing. Lorelei’s eyes widened but Batya laughed. He experienced a sudden, strong desire to teach her that whoever she thought she was in this absurd little world of hers in Lebanon, he was the Mastyr of Grochaire Realm and could take her apart if he wanted to.
When he sat down, however, a strange odor met his nose. He looked around first, wondering where it was coming from, maybe something rotting in the basement, then realized that it came from a soupy-looking bowl of what had to be an attempt at scrambled eggs.
Sweet Goddess, was this his meal?
He met Batya’s gaze but she stared back as though not understanding, daring him, probably. “Lorelei was kind enough to cook for us.”
He glanced at Lorelei. A flame of pink suddenly covered her cheeks. He took the ladle and scooped the eggs onto his plate. Seasonings floated in the lumpy, watery mixture. His nose twitched.
Using his fork, he took a bite and only with the strongest effort stopped from spitting it out.
Batya’s voice pierced his head as she pathed, I should have warned you. Lorelei isn’t the best cook, but she tries very hard.
Okay.
She ladled out her own eggs, took a bite and washed it down with a swift gulp of coffee. He should have brought his mug with him.
If you intend to eat this, I’ll follow your lead.
It’ll be a kindness. Lorelei has issues.
Got it.
That’s when he noticed that Batya’s color was high, almost feverish. Was she ill?
Are you all right?
Her gaze shot to his. Why do you ask? She even frowned slightly.
Your coloring. You don’t look so good.
I’m fine.
A little too hasty, Cha.
We’re being rude to Lorelei, conversing like this in front of her. And by the way, she may be a gentle spirit but she’s got some power I haven’t yet figured out.
He glanced at the ex-pat, who also pushed her eggs around on her plate.
Lorelei lifted her gaze to his. “It’s okay. You can keep pathing with each other. I don’t mind and I’m sorry about these blasted eggs. How about I make some toast?” She rose as she spoke, grabbing up the bowl before either of them could protest. “I’ll cut up some apples and cheese as well. I don’t think I can screw those up too badly.” Her smile faltered.
“Thank you,” he said.
When she left the room, his gaze followed her. Something wasn’t right about Lorelei, beyond her ‘issues’, but he couldn’t quite figure out what bugged him about the woman. She was tall like Batya, almost the same height, maybe an inch shorter.
She had beautiful dark brown hair, layered past her shoulders. Her brown eyes had a large fae look, yet she wasn’t fae, though Quinlan had no idea how he even knew that.
“What is it?”
“What species is Lorelei?” he asked quietly.
Batya shrugged. “I think she’s part fae, but I never asked. It’s a rule in the ex-pat community here. You can volunteer all the information you want, but no one is going to interrogate you about why you’re here, where you’ve come from, or what you might have done that brought you to the States.”
He grunted. He had issues with the existence of an ex-patriot community period, but he ignored his disapproval and stuck to his current curiosity. “The thing is, I can always tell a realm-folk’s lineage. Like with you, I sense fae and troll, although somewhere in your DNA is a small piece of witch. I get that big-time.”
“Witch. You are so funny,” she said sarcastically, shaking her head. “I’m just dying of laughter.” The concept of ‘witch’ belonged only in fables, although some of the more powerful fae did work with potions and spells.
But the response pleased Quinlan. “Just tell me I’m right. Fae and troll.”
“You’re right, but that’s common knowledge. Everyone knows who my father is.”
He tapped his fingers on the table and shook his head. “I can always tell. It’s one of my powers, I can identify the species in anyone, but not Lorelei.”
At that, Batya leaned back in her chair. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know, only that whatever realm species she is, she’s hiding it from the rest of the world. Take that one step further and it means she also has the power to hide it. So, what exactly has she shared with you about who she is? Anything?”
She shifted her gaze to the chair that Lorelei had just vacated, then frowned. “You know, Lorelei and I chat all the time, but we’ve never talked about the past, not specifically, only that she said she grew up in the mountains, but not which mountains.”
“And we have at least five realms with big mountains.”
“Exactly, including Grochaire, but you and I would have known her, or at least of her, if she’d grown up in your realm.”
He nodded. “You’re right about that.” He searched Batya’s eyes. “And you were never curious?”
“Oh, I wanted to ask. Remember, I’m part troll so it’s often hard to control the gossip-loving bent to my genetics, but it is one of my rules, so I stick by it.”
He nodded slowly, trying to make her out. He still didn’t know what could have driven her out of Grochaire. She had an excellent father as well, a revered troll considered by many to be a sage. Another mystery. But he respected that she stuck by her rules.
“We have ex-pats from all Nine Realms here. Did you know that the three eastern tribes have even worse problems than Grochaire?”
“Yes, I know.”
“You would do well to take some time to talk to our people here.”
“You seem to have built a community around your gallery.”
She shook her head. “It’s the free-clinic. We have a big drug problem here, homelessness, lots of stuff to deal with. Which I must say is part of my beef with you and Grochaire”
“You’re going to blame our realm for drug-addiction?”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I mean that we all aren’t like you. We all don’t just fit in. You’ve had your role laid out for you in Grochaire and you seem really happy about it like it suits you perfectly.”
