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She turned back to the chauffeur, still standing alertly beside the car. "He'll wait."
She turned back to Eric. He only hoped Ria wasn't going to be back on the street again in the next
ten seconds. He had no real idea of how Guardian House would respond to one of the half-elven,
especially one of Ria's ambiguous loyalties.
But isn't that what you brought her here to find out?
It was, of course, but it had just now occurred to him that anything that would rouse Greystone
would probably land the Guardians in his lap as well, and with all they had to worry about right now, they
probably wouldn't be grateful for the interruption. He wasn't looking forward to the explanations he'd
have to make if it came to that. Still, it's always easier to get forgiveness than permission.
He tapped out the entry code on the front door and ushered Ria through the lobby.
She was silent on the ride up, but it didn't take Bardic magic to see that Ria was thinking furiously.
Eric wondered if he'd ever know the real reason she'd wanted to track him down, and thought he
wouldn't. They had one new thing in common, though. Each of them was having to adjust to a world
they'd been away from for several years. He wondered if the new millennium was as much of a shock to
Ria as it sometimes was to him.
"Very nice," Ria said, looking around the hushed and carpeted corridor that led to Eric's apartment.
"No wonder Claire thought you must be some kind of Mafia drug lord."
"I like it," Eric said, refusing to take the bait she so temptingly dangled. He punched the keycode to
unlock his door. "Enter freely and of your own will."
In the living room, Ria swirled off her cloak with a practiced gesture and laid it over the back of the
couch, making Eric glad he'd gone to the trouble of cleaning the place up before he left. He was really
going to have to see about that house-brownie, though.
"Here, let me hang that up for you," Eric said, picking it up. He walked through to the bedroom to
hang up her cloak and his coat. The unmade bed, still rumpled from his nightmare, invited his thoughts
down pathways he'd rather not take just now, thank you very much. He realized he was tense, waiting
for Guardian House to sound an alarm, though surely if it had been going to, it would have done it
already. Ria's presence didn't seem to even be a blip on its psychic radar.
Figures. If I can't figure out what she's up to, what chance does a building have?
He came back out to find Ria inspecting his CD collection.
"You must have bought out the store," she commented, turning to him.
"Pretty much," Eric agreed. "I've got to say, these things are a lot easier to store than vinyl."
"Cheaper to produce, too," Ria agreed. "And when the cost comes down, a lot of music that was
marginal before has the chance to get out there and find its audience."
Trust Ria to find a way to think of everything in economic terms, Eric thought with an inward grin.
"I promised you coffee. Will espresso do? I've got one of those fancy machines. It was a
housewarming present. It even works most of the time."
Ria smiled with what seemed like genuine warmth. "Then you're more technologically advanced than
I am. If I didn't have Jonathan to make the coffee, I'd go into caffeine withdrawal."
She followed him into the tiny kitchen, where Eric navigated the intricacies of the bright-orange
Italian espresso maker Caity had given him without too much difficulty. Ria's presence her warmth, her
perfume were even more distracting in this small intimate space.
Is she coming on to me? Unbidden tactile memories rose up strongly in Eric's mind. He controlled
his blush with an effort. Or is she just trying to get me so aroused I'll stop thinking? To cover his
momentary confusion, he grabbed a tray from the shelf and arranged a box of assorted biscotti on a
plate. When the espresso had brewed, he drew off two cups and carried the tray back out into the living
room.
"So why don't you tell me what you're really doing here?" Eric said bluntly, once they were both
seated. He didn't expect her to tell him, but his question should bring the answers to the surface of her
mind for Greystone to read.
"You invited me," Ria pointed out, sipping her espresso. She nibbled delicately at a biscotti with
sharp white teeth. "And frankly, isn't that question the least bit insulting? Next you'll be offering to leave
the money on the dresser."
Eric grinned in spite of himself at her bold words. The best defense is always a good attack. "I
don't think it's an unreasonable question, given who we both are," Eric responded. "We didn't part on the
best of terms."
"That was my fault, I suppose," Ria said graciously. "I'm not the most trusting person in the world.
And you frightened me. It doesn't hurt to admit that. My father has had many powerful enemies. I
thought you might be one of them."
"But Perenor's dead."
Ria inclined her head. "But the elvenkind has long memories. I sought you out because I was certain
it was only a matter of time before you did the same to me. I have no interest in taking up my late father's
feuds... but I will defend myself."
Was that a warning or a threat?
"I haven't got any quarrel with you, Ria." As he said the words, Eric knew they were true. "I came
back to finish at Juilliard. That's all. So I'm still asking: why are you here?"
She wasn't convinced he could see that in her expression. But would he have been convinced if he
was the one who'd been raised amid a Sidhelord's intrigues? Ria's entire existence, her magical training,
had been shaped to one end, to make her into a living battery from which Perenor could draw power at
will. That didn't make for a trusting nature.
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