“Make that two.” Cynwrig waited until Henrick had left and then said, continuing the conversation we’d been having in the car, “Marjorlaine Blackguard has agreed to appear before the council tomorrow morning.”

“Whether she actually cooperates is another matter entirely.”

“Oh, she will. The spellcasters’ guild cannot afford to get on the wrong side of them.”

“Those members who play by the rules, for sure, but I’m thinking there’s quite a few who don’t.”

“Blackguard is not one of them.”

Henrick reappeared with our drinks, placed them on the table, and then handed us food menu. As he once again slipped away, a voice said, “Cynwrig Lùtair? As I live and breathe, it’s been absolutely ages.”

My gaze shot right. The woman approaching was tall, dark-skinned, with long, curly black hair, and a figure to die for. She was also a dark elf, although from a different line to Cynwrig, given her eyes were a silvery green.

“Orlah,” he said, voice filled with warm surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you were seeking greener marital pastures over on the continent?”

He rose and kissed the offered cheek. Hers dimpled in pleasure.

“Sadly, said grass was not greener, and I have returned.” She glanced at me, her expression friendly enough. “Do you mind if I steal him for a second or two? I want to introduce him to my friends.”

“Would it matter if I said I most certainly do mind?” I said mildly.

She blinked, obviously taken aback, then wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous or to intrude. Cynwrig, I’ll ring you.”

If she was hoping to make me feel bad, she succeeded. But hey, this was my time with him, not hers. She could introduce him to as many friends as she wanted another day.

She kissed his cheek again and then sashayed across the room toward a table where two other women waited. Cynwrig’s gaze briefly followed her before returning to mine. There was little to be seen in his expression, but his eyes flickered with desire.

I wasn’t sure if it was for me or his friend, and I certainly wasn’t sure how I felt about the possibility of it being the latter.

Which was a lie but one I was fully supporting right at this moment.

I leaned back in my chair and swirled my whisky. The ice clicked lightly against the glass, a bright sound in the warm shadows that surrounded us. “Can I ask who that was?”

“Just an old friend.”

“Old bed friend?”

“Yes.” He studied me speculatively for a moment. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Curious? Or jealous?”

Oh, there was definitely jealousy, but it wasn’t like I’d ever be stupid enough to admit that to this man. “We’re both free agents, are we not?”

“Yes—”

“And we’re both free to pursue pleasure elsewhere, are we not?”

“Yes—”

“Then I have no reason to be jealous.”

“No, but it would nevertheless warm my cockles if you were.”