Page 12 of The Seeker
“I don’t think so.”
Danger, danger, danger.
Meera’s eyes rose to his and she set her cup down. “I think we need some new tea. This pot is cold. And honey.”
He blinked. “Honey?”
“Yes. I told you I don’t like sugar in my tea.”
“Sugar is just as sweet.”
“But it’s not honey, is it?”
She’d rendered him speechless again. Rhys of Glast, imminent archivist, was staring at her with a mix of confusion, indignation, and fascination. Meera was extraordinarily pleased. It was the best reaction she could have hoped for.
“You want more tea?” he asked.
“Are you offering to get it?” Meera smiled. “Thank you.”
Rhys sat back in his seat. “You won’t tell me who summoned me here, you’re dismissing the legends of the Serpent and the Wolf as simple stories, and you want more tea?”
“I absolutely want more tea. After all, you’ve barely touched yours, and I think you might still be a bit jet-lagged. Are you? I’m really thinking of you.”
He stood. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I’ll… get more tea.”
“Excellent. And Rhys?” She looked directly into his eyes.
“Yes?”
“There’s nothing simple about stories.”
Chapter Three
“The woman is maddening!” Rhys yelled into the phone. “I spent five hours with her today and received nothing except a tour of the French Quarter, a disjointed lecture on the different properties of honey, and more food than I usually eat in an entire day. In five hours!”
Damien coughed as if trying to suppress a laugh. Sari, as usual, suppressed nothing. They had Rhys on speakerphone, and Rhys could hear her laughter bounce off the stone walls of their castle in Rekaves.
“Oh Rhys,” she said. “I wish I could see your face. I’ve never met Meera in person, but I like her already.”
“Who the hell is this woman?” Rhys asked. “Other than a demon in Irina clothing.”
“Trust me,” Sari said. “She’s more than your equal in learning, but I can’t share her secrets or I’d lose her trust, and I absolutely cannot do that. She’s too important.”
Important how? Rhys was mystified. Damien’s mate wasn’t awed by much.
“Besides, Rhys, why must you be so impatient?” Damien asked. “It sounds like a pleasant afternoon. I’ve always wanted to visit New Orleans.”
“So have I,” Sari said. “The gardens. The music. The food. It sounds like you had a wonderful guide.”
“Who told me nothing!” He resisted kicking the wall. “I had dozens of questions, and she managed to deflect every one. I would think I was getting somewhere, then she’d distract me by diverting the conversation to jazz musicians or azalea cultivation or different properties of American whiskey. Five hours with the woman and I know nothing more about the Wolf than when I arrived. I’m completely turned around.”
“A woman has out-clevered Rhys?” Sari asked. “I never thought I’d live to see this moment, but if anyone could do it, it would be Meera.”
“Indeed. An opponent with equal cunning,” Damien said. “He’ll either fall in love with her or murder her.”
“I would not take that bet, my darling.”
Rhys closed his eyes. “I’m glad you find all this so amusing. I don’t like it here, and at this rate, I have no idea how long this mission will take.” He was ignoring the crack about falling in love. Damien and Sari had reunited after a long estrangement. Mated pairs were notorious for thinking everyone wanted to be as they were.
