“That’s the least interesting thing about him.”
Aw. I’m definitely telling the king Felix said that when I ask if Riley can sit with them at a game.
“I’m sure Felix’s friend Jared is a fascinating man, but right now, I’d rather speak with his friend Ari,” Claes interjects. “He has a lot of interesting things to say.”
I do? Panic twists my insides. He isn’t going to ask?—
“For example, he was telling me before that elves prevent aging by constantly healing themselves, in a way that becomes an involuntary reflex.” He turns to me. “Your brains must be utterly unique.”
Not actually unique, since humans can do that too, but that’s not general knowledge in the community, so I don’t mention it. “We don’t think of it that way.”
“Wait, you don’tage?” Riley stares at me. “How old are you?”
This time the “Riley!” comes from several people. I smile and shake my head. “I don’t mind. It’s not precise, since the length of an Earth year is slightly different to what we had at home, but just under five thousand years.”
The older brother chokes on his soda.
“Fivethousand?” Riley breathes. “You look my dad’s age!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment to my skills.”
He nods. “Abso-fucking-lutely, dude.”
“Language, Riley,” Shayla chides. “Just because your uncle’s friend is undoubtedly the coolest person you’ve ever met doesn’t mean you can forget your manners.”
Felix elbows me. “Hear that?” he murmurs. “We’re the coolest people at this table.”
“Ari is,” his brother—Kyle—corrects. “You’re still just our annoying little brother.”
Riley shakes his head. “I think you’re cool, Uncle Fe. Especially now that I know you have such cool friends.”
“Do you know any dragons?” Claes asks. “Felix was telling me they’re not actually shifters.”
I smother every hint of amusement welling up inside me. “I do, and no, they’re not. Dragons were originally etheric beings—basically a series of electrical impulses with personalities. They created a corporeal form—that of a dragon—so they could interact physically with the world, and then they saw elves evolving and decided our form looked fun and that they wanted to try it.”
Claes sucks in a deep breath, his eyes alight with joy, and I cut him off before he can ask a barrage of questions I likely wouldn’t be able to answer.
“Why don’t I set up a meeting for you with a dragon? They’d be able to tell you more about their physiology than I can.” I don’t even know much about elf physiology—only what I need to in order to use my magic effectively.
“Is that possible? Would they agree to meet with me?”
“I think so. The DEA is enthusiastic about helping you Earth natives to understand us better, and you’re a respected scientist. Let me ask around, but I’m sure I can find someone who’d be happy to talk to you.” I just need to make sure Steffen doesn’t catch wind of it.
Claes is grinning broadly. “You know, of all the people my kids have brought to dinner over the centuries, you might be my favorite.”
The chorus of protests is balanced by the laughter echoing around the table.
“And this isFelix learning how to walk,” Shayla says, pointing to another photo in the album. “He was so impatient with crawling. We had to be careful with what we left lying around, because he’d grab anything he could reach to pull himself up.” She turns the page and indicates another photo, this one with toddler Felix sitting on the floor, peering out from under a tablecloth with the remnants of a vase of flowers scattered around him. “Like that.”
“I see your scowl hasn’t changed,” I tease, and Felix snorts.
“It just made me cuter. Baby photos don’t embarrass me—I was adorable.” His smug smile makes me want to lean over and kiss him, but I’m not opening that can of worms. His family has proved that they’re not shy about asking questions.
“Hewasa cute child,” Shayla concedes. “It made me very happy that cameras were so readily available by then. They weren’t when I had my first three—it was a real chore to get photographic portraits taken when Jory was a baby, and it wasn’t much easier with Greta. I have a few portraits of Kyle, but when Felix was born we had a Polaroid camera right here in the house as well as a traditional film camera. We took as many photos of him as we could, so it’s lucky he was photogenic.”
“Is,” Felix corrects. “I still am.”
Shayla turns another page, and a tiny hockey player with Felix’s face stares out at me. He’s fully kitted out in gear that looks a size or two too big for him, but the determination is immediately recognizable. His small stature wasn’t going to hold him back.
