Our
eyes met, and my skin prickled, my breath suddenly shallow. The
corner of his mouth twisted, a momentary smile almost too brief to be
seen, and I flushed all the way to my toes.
Dirk
stepped between Albrecht and I, knife half raised, fists clenched.
“We're here. Start explaining why we shouldn't kill you where you
stand.” He wasn't exactly shouting, but there was nothing calm
about his voice. The hunter wasn't going to negotiate in a friendly
manner.
The
dokkalf quirked a
brow, then sauntered toward a sideboard. He ignored Dirk's outburst,
lifting a decanter of amber liquid. “Would either of you care for a
drink?”
Dirk
lifted his blade higher, gesturing as he spoke. “This isn't a
social visit. Talk or die.”
Albrecht
laughed, a low roll of humor, and poured himself several ounces of
alcohol. “You are in my house, on my sufferance. I say that you
must either talk or die.” He glared over his shoulder at the
hunter.
I
stepped forward, laying my hand on Dirk's wrist. He resisted only
briefly as I pushed his hand down. Finally, he lowered the blade, and
I smiled softly. “We would love a drink.”
“Please,
have a seat,” the dokkalf
said while pouring. I pulled Dirk with me to a set of chairs by the
fire, and made him sit. Then I stood beside him, slightly between
Albrecht and himself.
“What
is it that you want?” Dirk asked, contempt filling his voice. He
still gripped his knife, and I felt him shifting restlessly.
Albrecht
brought two glasses, gaze locked on mine. “I'm going to give you
the same choice I gave every other group of hunters who have
attempted to kill me.” He handed me both glasses, staring down at
me. One long finger stroked the air beside my hand, that enigmatic
caress that involved no touch, yet was more intimate for the absence
of flesh on flesh.
“There
have been others?” I asked softly, unable to look away from the
dokkalf.
Dirk
snatched his glass from my hand. “If there were others, they were
too weak. But we'll finish you off.”
Albrecht
shook his head, hair dancing across his back. “If that's what you
need to tell yourself.” He took the seat across from us and sipped
his drink. “Many of the others have said the same thing.”
I
sipped at my own drink. The spices warmed me more than the alcohol,
and I relaxed a fraction. “Have there been many others?” Dirk
snorted behind me, and gulped from his glass.
The
dokkalf gestured
dismissively, looking into the fire. “I stopped counting many
decades ago. Not worth remembering such meaningless events,
especially when they end in one of two ways.”
“Which
are?” I was fairly certain I knew the answer, but the words came
anyway.
Dirk
scoffed, clanking his glass hard onto the side table. “Don't be so
naive, Lamb. He's already told us.” I glanced back at my party
leader; he sneered at the dokkalf.
“Talk or die.”
Albrecht
chuckled softly; the sound circled warm in my ears, drew my gaze back
to him. “It's a very efficient way of handling would-be assassins.”
He stared at me, eyes glittering. “But I will give another choice
this time.”
A
chill ran up my spine, prickling my skin and raising hairs on the
nape of my neck. I hid a blush behind my glass, sipping slowly,
having to lower my gaze from his. I bit back any further questions,
also certain I knew what he would say.
Dirk
burst to his feet, shouting. “You won't have my Lamb!”
Albrecht
chuckled again, and I glanced up at him through my lashes. The
dokkalf smiled, one
brow quirked sharply. Heat suffused my face, and I took another
drink. “Can't I though?”
