Discord Jones: Black Magic Shadows Part 14

"Thanks."

Logan's calm mental voice sounded in my head. How are you holding up?

Better now that there's food.

Have you noticed that Nick's here?

Yeah, Thorandryll offered to kick him out. I said no.

That was a nice decision.

It's not like I hate him.

I know, Logan said before changing the subject. Any chance you have room on your dance card later?

I hid my smile by taking another bite. If my feet have recovered, you're on.

I'll pray for their recovery.

"When do you plan to make the announcement?" I heard Maeve ask.

"The negotiations aren't complete," Thorandryll answered. What were they talking about?

"It's necessary to complete them quickly."

Exasperation sharpened his reply. "She's not exactly open to the thought."

"Then make her open to it."

"Mother..."

"Or I will." The ice in her voice made me s.h.i.+ver. Who were they talking about? I noticed Alleryn watching me, his expression as smooth as a mannequin's.

Uh-oh. They were talking about me, weren't they? All of Thorandryll's comments tonight...was she the reason he kept harping about us becoming a couple?

Something wrong? Logan asked, startling me.

Why?

You felt scared there for a second.

I needed to pay attention to whether or not I shut down links after mental conferences with people. Just overheard something I don't like the sound of.

What?

Have to tell you later. Maybe if it's not too late, you could come over for coffee after this s.h.i.+ndig?

Sure.

Okay. Talk later. This time, I made certain to cut off the link, while putting my fork down.

"Cordi?" Alleryn murmured.

"What?"

"Do you want more wine?"

A perfectly innocent question, yet I immediately wondered if he was trying to get me plastered. People had a tendency to make terrible decisions under the influence. "Actually, I'd like to switch to water."

He smiled, and lifted a hand to summon a servant. "Lady Discord would prefer water with her meal."

"Yes, my lord."

"I would too," Alleryn said, with a sly wink for me. I felt bad for suspecting him of conspiring against me. Then again, he was an elf and had been Thorandryll's healer long before I'd come into the picture.

Looking back at my plate as the servant switched our gla.s.ses, I discovered the second course had arrived. It was gazpacho, garnished with green onions and a dab of sour cream.

In sixth grade, Tina Baines had given me the unwelcome nickname of Cordi the Pig during lunch one day. I'd spent two miserable weeks "dieting" in an effort to lose the baby fat tenaciously clinging to my cheeks, stomach, and thighs.

Ginger told my mom about it, after hunger made me cranky enough to yell at her. Mom had immediately called a family council, during which both parents repeated their advice about not allowing other people's words to change my perception of my physical appearance. They'd also pointed out I hadn't even hit p.u.b.erty yet, and that I'd see big changes once I did.

They'd been right, because p.u.b.erty had struck the following summer, and I'd started 7th grade 6 inches taller, lean, leggy, and pretty self-conscious about two new additions that required my first real bra.

Absolute vindication for me, after the misery of 6th grade, because Tina and her clique hadn't given up their name calling. Nope, they'd tripled their efforts to shame me because I enjoyed food.

Luckily, they hadn't shamed me into an eating disorder, and I still loved food. More at that moment than ever, with a small bowl of gazpacho awaiting transfer to my stomach.

Forget scheming elves. I had a sumptuous meal ahead of me, and was going to enjoy every bite.

After that, there was an excellent possibility I'd want to meet the chef and beg for cooking lessons, judging by the first courses.

The fish course was halibut garnished with tiny flowers and pearl onions. It took all my self-control not to moan my way through it and the following courses, from the lemon-basil sorbet to the absolutely sumptuous baked meringues drizzled with a reduction of cherries, rosewater, vanilla, and topped with dark pink rose petals.

I ate every bite, busy planning a way to kidnap Thorandryll's chef, because I obviously knew jack about cooking.

The prince waited until I'd finished dessert before asking, "Was everything to your liking?"

"I really want to meet your chef," I said, wis.h.i.+ng I had seconds of desert. "I need to wors.h.i.+p."

Thorandryll's smile made it clear he was about to respond with another pushy remark, and he did. "He could prepare all your meals in the future."

"Why do you have to keep bringing that up?" I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "I told you I was willing to give being your friend a shot, and would consider a public declaration of alliance. But that's it, all that's on the table."

"So you've repeatedly said, which brings to mind 'the lady doth protest too much'."

My breath huffed out. "Maybe because the man in the equation doesn't seem to comprehend the meaning of 'not gonna happen'."

"I will give you anything you desire." Thorandryll rose from his chair, and helped me out of mine. His eyebrows scrunched. "You seem shorter."

"I took off my shoes." About to duck down to grab them, I stopped when his fingers closed around my hand.

"Allow me." He went to one knee, and I tried to free myself, because d.a.m.n if it didn't look like he was about to propose. Thorandryll easily kept hold, because I was trying not to make a huge scene, aware that a lot of people were watching, as they left their tables.

He gestured with his free hand, and my pumps slid out from under the table. Placing them in front of me, he smoothly stood, and caught my other hand. "There."

The pointy-eared b.a.s.t.a.r.d smiled. I stepped into my shoes, inching closer to him. He didn't back away. I gritted my teeth. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me, but I hissed and his smile widened. He stepped back, releasing one of my hands, and gestured. "The night's not over."

"Dinner is, and that was the deal." I wanted to go home, change into my pajamas, and snuggle with my dogs. I wasn't cut out for the game-playing and the illusions of elven politics. There was no telling what people thought after all of his c.r.a.p.

"I did clarify 'an evening'."

Had he? I couldn't remember the exact wording.

"Fine, but I won't need a ride home."

Thorandryll tucked my hand over his forearm to lead me away. "It'd be the height of discourtesy for me not to ensure you arrive safely at home."

"A swift kick in the family jewels is more discourteous."

He actually laughed. "Very well."

To my immense relief, Kethyrdryll stopped us at the foot of the ballroom stairs. "My apologies, brother, but my evening won't be complete unless I have the honor of a dance with Lady Discordia."

"Don't abscond with her," Thorandryll said.

"And leave you pining for the lack of her company? Of course not."

"Oh good night," I muttered. "Enough with the flowery yapping."

They turned identical boyish grins on me before Kethyrdryll offered his arm. I grabbed it as though he were offering a life line. Four steps, and we turned to face each other, our arms moving to proper waltzing position. Off we went, and he studied my face. "You're not enjoying yourself."

"Your brother's a hard-headed jerk."

Kethyrdryll laughed loudly enough that the couples dancing closest looked at us. "My apologies."

"It's not your fault, but thanks for the rescue." I hesitated. "He's really pus.h.i.+ng for us becoming a couple."

"Thoran's never dealt with rejection well, or with failing to achieve his goals."

"I think your mother has something to do with it."

Kethyrdryll glanced back to where we'd left Thorandryll. He was busy talking to several other men. "Of course she does. Our mother believes in having every advantage possible."

"And I'd be an advantage."

He nodded. "She wants firm alliances in place to keep her kingdom secure. I dislike saying this, but it would've been better for you to have let her die."

I had to close my mouth and swallow before responding. "She's your mother."

"She's the Unseelie Queen, first and foremost. As that, she will seldom retreat from the course of action she chooses. You are not only an extremely gifted natural mage, but someone two G.o.ds appear to have an interest in. And one of them humbled her before her people."

"Oh, so her idea of revenge on Sal is to sic Thorandryll on me, and hope we'll end up married?"

"Sal ... oh, the nameless G.o.d. You haven't discovered which one he is yet?"

I shook my head. "I haven't seen him since the showdown."

Kethyrdryll grimaced. "I'll try to discover who he is, but it can be difficult. The G.o.ds enjoy confusion, and most have several faces."

"I'd really appreciate that." The music faded, a new tune beginning a few seconds later. "Can we sit this out?"

"I believe someone plans to cut in." Kethyrdryll smiled, looking past my shoulder. "Well met, Logan."

"Nice to see you again." They didn't shake hands. Instead, they did what I'd heard called a warrior's greeting, grasping each other's arm just below the elbow. "Mind if I ask her for a dance?"

"Not at all." Kethyrdryll looked at me. "We'll speak later."

"Sure. Thanks." We watched him walk away.

"So, dance card. Did you save me a spot?"

"I did, as long as you promise to scope out a hidey hole after. I need some air."

"I promise. We'll just waltz right outside before the music ends."

"Awesome."

As we began to dance, Terra and Connor whirled past, staring into each other's eyes. I remembered the vision I'd had, and smiled.

"That's only the second real smile I've seen from you tonight," Logan said.

"You're my favorite dance partner." If he hadn't noticed the way they were looking at each other, I wasn't going to point it out. Connor was a good guy, and Terra was old enough to make her own decisions.

"Good to know. It's been an interesting evening."

I laughed. "Hasn't it just? Hear any juicy gossip?"

"All the gossip's been about you, who you are, and why Thorandryll has you on his arm tonight." Logan's eyes flashed from dark to light and back.

I wrinkled my nose. "Figures."

"What was he doing, right after dinner? That really set tongues to wagging."

"I forgot to put my shoes back on."

Logan's forehead creased. "What?"