“Valkkinians have never stayed at Gertrude Hunt. I checked.”

“Not my inn. My parents’ inn.”

George frowned. “That can’t be right.”

“Why not?”

“Because I asked your brother, and he said your parents never hosted them.”

My heart made a valiant effort to leap out of my chest. Klaus was alive.

I kept my expression calm. “Klaus didn’t encounter them. It was right after he and Michael turned twenty-one. They went on a month-long trip to Japan. Michael was a Toyotomi Hideyoshi fan, and he really wanted to see Osaka Castle.”

George stared at me.

“George! Shower. Stone stele. Lots of walking. Call me when you’re done. I need your help with Karron.”

I would tell him to sleep first but it would be pointless.

George scrambled to his feet and stumbled away, pulling his shirt off his back. I aborted the connection.

Sean tilted his head at me. “Your brother is alive.”

“And he is an Arbitrator.”

That explained everything. Whatever George was working on had to be vital and secret. Arbitrators were extremely close-mouthed. They wouldn’t go to just anyone for information, but George and I had a prior professional relationship. I was trustworthy.

There was no reason George would seek Klaus out when he knew where to find me. There was only one reason he would prefer Klaus over me: Klaus was in. He was an Arbitrator and therefore cleared for all classified information. And it also meant that Klaus was either on equal footing with George or his senior.

That’s why Klaus went off the grid. I was afraid he’d died.

I leaned back in my chair. When I got a hold of my brother, I would pitch a fit. He had no idea what was coming to him.

No idea.

“Do you think George will get back to us?” Sean asked.

“He will. As soon as he can.”

George had many flaws, but he always paid his debts.

6

Things are never simple when George gets involved. When we last left the inn, Dina had a surprising reveal about her brother Klaus and a plan to save Wilmos was beginning to take shape.

Let’s see what our favorite Arbitrator has down his elegant shirtsleeves.

Twenty-six hours later, Sean and I sat in front of the communication screen again. The elven prince was back. He was still a bit too pale, and there were lingering traces of fatigue in the lines of his face, but he was alert, clean, and well dressed. George’s fashion sense fell somewhere between a musketeer and a gentleman privateer. He was fond of shirts with wide sleeves, beautifully tailored vests, and tall leather boots. The embroidery on his dark blue vest was swoon worthy.

Sean would look great in that vest. Well, not that vest exactly, Sean would need a larger size. Maybe for Halloween…