She fell into step beside me, taking the chance to inspect me more thoroughly. “We aren’t related. When he lived here, we were raised close. My father serves his family on the Council, and now I do too, as chief stewardess. Are you the one sharing his bed lately?”
I nearly choked on air, though I managed not to show it. “No,” I said lightly. “He’s a good friend.”
Maith showed no reaction, stopping just short of the alabaster doors as they swung open.
“Let’s see,” Reagan muttered to Finn as he strode ahead.
Inside lay a vast chamber, paved with the same gleaming marble, the domed ceiling etched with spiralling filigree in gold. It was so different from the grey-glimmered halls of Mountheim. Everything here seemed designed to impress, to be admired. Mountheim was older, moodier, with moss-softened greenery and time-darkened stone instead of opalescent pillars.
We followed Maith toward a raised dais where two men were seated. One was tall and powerfully built, his albino skin was close to a pale blue, the same colour as the eyes he fixed on Finn. An azure gemstone hung from one pointed ear. His long platinum hair was braided into three strands that fell against the laces of his cerulean tunic.
I stole a glance at Finn, whose ears had rounded again after the curse. My mind began to whirl with questions.
The other man appeared shorter, based on the length of his legs. His shoulder-length black hair was as dark as Gwin’s, and his piercing beige eyes fixed on Reagan. He smiled with mischief, fingers idly tracing the gold lapels of his brown tunic, which revealed the brown skin of his chest and abdomen.
Two more figures stood to one side of the dais. A woman with the same dark hair and skin colour as the shorter lord wore a white dress. Beside her stood a man who looked like a younger version of the pale lord. His platinum hair was braided, his albino skin was marked by two pale blue scars slashing across a cheek.
Maith halted just short of the dais. “The Mage Lord of Mountheim with his emissaries, Atkus and Jane.”
For a moment, I felt as if we were petitioners before Banfgaard’s court. It wasn’t far from the truth.
All of them stared until the taller Elven Lord with pale skin rose from his imposing chair.
“It’s our pleasure to receive a Mage Lord in Banfgaard,” he said in a voice that sounded like the wind, stepping forward and stopping just a breath from Reagan. “Especially the one harbouring family.”
Seconds dragged by until Reagan allowed the faintest curl of his mouth. “Eldar. We were glad when you finally decided to grant us an invitation.”
They were nearly the same height, a thought that vanished the moment Eldar gripped Reagan’s shoulders and kissed him on the mouth.
I blinked, schooling my expression while my lungs forgot to work.
Reagan remained unfazed, as if he’d expected that.
“Don’t hoard the guests, El,” the shorter Elven Lord said, approaching. If this was Eldar, the other must be Iqbal, whose sister was Anife, according to Finn’s quick briefing earlier.
Eldar stepped aside, allowing Iqbal to approach Reagan. He placed a hand on his shoulder, and Reagan made him wait before leaning down for a second kiss.
Eldar turned to Finn, cupping his cheek and pressing a brief kiss to his lips.
“My Lord,” Finn said, bowing his head.
“It’s been too long, nephew,” Eldar replied.
Heat climbed my cheeks, leaving me keenly aware of my reactions. A glance to the side showed Anife and the man beside her staring at me, but Iqbal had already moved away from Reagan and claimed my attention.
His scrutiny made my stomach tighten. I didn’t know if I should step forward or bow, so I chose to dip my chin. “Thank you for having us.”
His sandy eyes roamed over my cloak. He leaned slightly, his nostrils flaring. With a pointed grin at Reagan, he said, “Jane, you must be warm beneath so many layers. Do feel free to strip.”
The sensuous tone in his voice reminded me of running water. It replaced my unease with something cooler.
“Your home is beautiful,” I replied, taking my time as I unfastened my cloak. “Is it always this sunny?”
His eyes swept over me again, taking in the clothes.
“A little too warm if you ask me,” Reagan added, shrugging off his own cloak.
Iqbal’s gaze flicked to him, all of him. “As is our preference.”
