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“It will affect both of you,” Raven added, observing the pair of us with a stoically neutral expression. Only the amusement coiling around him betrayed his feelings.

My curiosity piqued, I reluctantly agreed.

Satisfied, Kent led me deeper into the mansion through corridors I hadn’t dared explore. Finally, we paused before a carved mahogany door.

Raven knocked sharply above the head of a grotesquely styled gargoyle stalking a hapless human. I blinked at the scene. It appeared very out of place in Lord Greyson’s otherwise tastefully decorated home.

“Lord Greyson isn’t available—oh, it’s you.” A grizzled male dwarf opened the door and glared at the three of us. “Well, don’t dawdle in the corridor already. His lordship has waited long enough, and we don’t want others to get the impression he is available for lollygagging nobodies to natter at.” His shaggy, fiery red hair floated about his head in random tufts of fluff as he enthusiastically waved us into the room.

“All of this coming and going isn’t good for his concentration, nor mine.” The dwarf shut the door so quickly behind us that I barely avoided getting my skirt hem caught. “Bunch of time wasters, the lot.” He kept muttering under his breath as he sped across the office toward a door near the back. “Whining and demanding—imagine wanting a full-sized pear tree in a bedroom. Ridiculous!” He trundled through a maze of desks, bookcases, and chairs. I glimpsed half a dozen bowed heads above the desks as we rushed past, Kent tugging me on.

“As if his lordship doesn’t have anything more pressing matters to attend, like overseeing supplies for the royal household, the army, and preparing to host the entire court. Stuffy idiot!” With this exclamation, the dwarf reached a door in the back on the far left. Flinging it open with unnecessary aggression, he stuck his head through.

“Black wing, young master, and—” The dwarf paused and eyed me. “They brought a deep-seeing bunch of fluff with them.”

“Alger, what did I tell you about renaming guests?” Lord Greyson’s disembodied voice asked from just out of sight.

“Don’t.” The dwarf—Alger, I supposed—snorted.

“Then stop insulting my guests.”

“I am not insulting no one,” Alger protested. “I just say them like I see them.”

“Alger, just show them in. Don’t go saying anything beyond the necessary.” Lord Greyson’s tone of forbearance didn’t hint at the mild amusement warming the air.

“Right, your lordship.” Alger waved the three of us through with an extra deep bow to me. “No insult intended,” he muttered to my skirts as we passed him.

Then, before I could even think to assure him I wasn’t insulted, he shut the door behind us with a sharp crack.

Lord Greyson winced. “That door needs a strengthening spell.”

“Or a slow spell. I see Alger hasn’t changed in the least.” A giant male with pale skin and a wild head of brown hair that appeared barely tamed rose from the chair across a massive desk from Lord Greyson.

“Not for lack of trying on my part.” Lord Greyson also rose. “I believe introductions are in order. Master Kent, Mistress Rue, may I make known to you my best friend and Raven’s uncle, Lord Piro.”

“A pleasure.” The giant bowed to Kent and me. “It is always a pleasure to meet new people.”

To my surprise, he genuinely meant the statement. He was elegantly dressed in what I had come to understand was a court fashion. His high-collared green overcoat, paired with a tightly tailored vest of sage-green cloth and long breeches of the same cloth, looked very restrictive and uncomfortable. All of it was accented with pale gold buttons and matching gold embroidered pattern of vines and leaves. Still, he wore the ensemble with an air of familiarity.

On the whole, Lord Piro appeared to be the opposite of Lord Greyson. An air of laughter and lightness clung to him where Greyson embraced the darkness of his kind. Greyson clearly preferred the company of few. In contrast, Lord Piro eagerly surveyed us, his delight seeming to indicate the opposite.

I didn’t realize I was staring until he smiled.

“Sorry,” I apologized and dropped my gaze as heat flushed my face.

“Deep-seeing indeed.” Lord Piro laughed softly. “Greyson, you need to promote Alger. He sees far more than he lets on.”

“And why would I do that?” Lord Greyson asked without looking up from the document in his hand.

“He pegged Mistress Rue at a glance. I am, of course, assuming that he has never met her before. Has he?” The last he directed to me.

“Never,” I confirmed.

All eyes turned to consider me. My cheeks warmed under the scrutiny, but I resisted the urge to wilt under them.

“Pegged her how?” Greyson asked.

Lord Piro’s eyes glinted mischievously. “It isn’t every day I get to meet a Twilight Elf.”