“No thank you,” I told him. “I’m happy right here, doing what I do now.”

Cyanide rumbled and turned on her side. Kosandion picked up the tablet and resumed his reading.

Outside the snow began to fall, fat fluffy snowflakes drifting softly to the ground. For the next half hour, I brushed the big cat and watched the snow, while the Sovereign caught up on his paperwork.

* * *

Tony ambushed me as soon as the Higgra’s date was over.

“Dad wants to talk to you.” He thrust the phone at me.

My heart made a pirouette. Most innkeepers avoided personal phone calls. Even getting a phone number of an innkeeper was a sign of trust, and it was understood that direct communication was only for emergencies. What was bad enough for him to call me?

Brian Rodriguez looked back at me from the screen. “Have you gotten anything from Lachlan Stewart?”

“No. I don’t know who he is. Should I know who he is?”

Brian heaved a sign. “How much do you know about the Loch Broom Inn?”

“Um… It’s an old castle in Scotland. Very remote. They specialize in large-scale events.”

Loch Broom was off the beaten path, and its beautiful but severe landscape meant that human visitors were rare. If you wanted to have a destination wedding on Earth, or a diplomatic summit, or a convention, Loch Broom Castle was your venue. It wasn’t the only inn catering to large-scale events, but it was one of the better known.

“Lachlan runs Loch Broom Castle. He is fourth generation, old, and crochety. Also stubborn like a goat.”

“Okay.”

“He wants to adopt you.”

“What?”

“He’s eighty years old, and he’s been looking for a successor. His oldest is an ad-hal, and her kids live off-planet. His youngest took over a small inn in Bulgaria just to get away from him. His kids don’t want to deal with their grandfather either. Lachlan’s been watching the coverage of the selection, and he’s decided you are worthy.”

The walls around me creaked in alarm. In the innkeeper world, adoption could take place at any age, provided the “parent” was at least twenty years older than the “child.” Once adopted, the “child” would be considered a rightful heir to the “parent’s” inn. But I wasn’t an orphan. This was ridiculous.

“I already have parents.”

“That was pointed out to him. He says that according to our guidelines, enough time passed that they can be declared dead soon...”

“They are not dead!” They were missing.

Brian nodded. “I know. We told him. He is determined to get you and Sean over to Scotland. He says you have ‘the vision.’”

A wall to my left parted and Sean came out of it, looking ready to fight somebody.

“It doesn’t matter what he’s determined to do. I’m not leaving Gertrude Hunt. The Assembly can’t separate us, I won’t—”