Ed didn’t argue, or ask more questions, or give Arne more information. He was too tired. “I need coffee.” And his wife needed him.
“All right,” Arne Odinsson said. “Let’s get you to where you need to be, my friend.”
Chapter 28
Wrenn Goodfellow blinked awake inside a brilliantly warm ray of golden sunshine. The lovely cut glass doors to her left cast brilliant rainbows across the multifaceted parquet of flooring under the mat on which she lay.
She was in Robin’s practice room and in the sun, which meant that Robin had moved her back into Oberon’s Castle from the beach in Texas. It also meant that she’d lost the rest of the night and probably most of the morning for no discernible reason beyond that it somehow benefited Robin.
At least this time he’d put a pillow under her head.
She sat up. No dryad armor, so he’d dealt with that. No sword, either. “Did you leave Redemption for the elves?” she said into the air.
He was here, hiding behind a glamour between the rainbows, probably bored and angry that she’d stolen his morning fun even though knocking her out and leaving her in the practice room was his doing.
He manifested out of a shaft of sunlight in the corner, still in his midnight blue uniform, still in his preferred young-male and tiny-nubbed glamour, staring at the phone in his hand as if the fate of the universe rested on his ability to win this round of Words with Friends.
His eyebrow arched as he swiped through something on his screen. “Hmmm…” he said. “Useful.”
“Robin,” Wrenn said.
He still didn’t look at her.
She snapped her fingers.
He looked up. He frowned. Then he swiped one last time and put the phone inside his jacket. “I returned the armor,” he said.
“Thank you.” Wrenn stood and stretched her back. “The sword?”
He shrugged. “Did you know that enclave has a Freyr and a Freya elder elf? Plus that big burly Thor elf!” He threw his hands into the air. “They’re fully stocked, pantheon-wise.” He shrugged. “Almost.”
She’d been in the presence of the Freya and Thor elder elves, plus another Thor elf and one named Sif who she was pretty sure wasn’t a Sif aspect. They’d talked about one named Magnus and their King, whose name, if she remembered correctly, was Arne Odinsson.
So yeah, the North American elven enclave was probably quite well stocked with aspects of the Norse pantheon.
Robin hadn’t answered her question. “Do they have the sword?”
He shrugged again. “The Freyr, Freya, and Thor elder elves scooped it up off the beach, if that’s what you’re asking.”
His evasiveness meant she wasn’t going to get a straight answer. Not right now, and likely not in the practice room, which meant the politics she’d hoped to avoid were here. Those same politics were probably why she’d lost the rest of the night and most of the morning.
She walked over to his sunbeam. The golden light hit the side of her face and she instinctively turned toward the sun to warm her cold flesh. “Are you going to clue me in?” she asked.
“You will receive guidance on how to word your final report, yes,” Robin said. “No need to be alarmist.” He sighed and tossed her a What can I do? look.
He could do a lot. He could tell her the truth so that she didn’t accidently get caught up in something that might be dangerous not only to the fae she was supposed to protect, but to her personally.
Or to Ed and his kids, because this was clearly a delicate situation in need of diplomacy, as the Queen had been kind enough to tell her.
The Queen had also showed up after Red started calling out about Fenrir.
And here Robin was telling her not to alarm anyone.
Two hundred years of living with the fae and she’d always believed she’d earned enough respect from Robin and King Oberon, the Royal Guard, her neighbors—all of the fae, to be honest—that they wouldn’t play with her work. Daily stuff, she expected. The fae were fae, and they were as confined in their ways as every other magical. But the big stuff? Cases that involved murders and trafficking and vampires? Naughty was one thing. Evil was a whole new level.
Malfeasance, she thought.
Did she trust the Queen to actually deal with the kelpies? Or was she to be quiet about the vampires feeding on fae and an elven sword calling out about Fenrir and a secretive, powerful elven enclave living in North America?
“I hear it’s been unseasonably cold in some of the Queen’s realms,” Robin said. “Like winter stayed all summer.”
Yes, let’s not be alarmist. Or help anyone prepare. “It’s been the opposite in the mundane world,” she said. “Hot and full of plagues.”
Robin slapped his goat knee. “Strange how that works.” He leaned in close to her ear. “I cleaned up all the messes while you slept. Go home. Feed your fishes. Take a day to rest in your own bed then write up your report.” He stood up and ushered her toward the door. “As a thank you for your hard work, I charged your Heartway tokens.”
Wrenn looked down at the backs of her hands. She pulled up her sleeves.
Robin had granted her ten Heartway tokens on each arm.
“I don’t like those ghosts of yours. They’re… ugly.” He frowned and waved his hand dismissively. “I want you to stay away from them.”
She’d happily stay away from Victor’s Heartway ghost, but she would not stop looking for his vampiric monster. Or promise to stay away from Victor’s other creation.
She made no response to Robin. No words spoken, or nods given. No promises. No deals. Her Royal Guard oath meant something to her, even if it meant nothing to him.
Wrenn turned on her heels. She placed her hand on her Royal Guard star as she walked toward the room’s grand entrance. She would do her job, no matter how deep the malfeasance in
