“What is he talking about?” Killian asked.
“Something to do with the Night Court, I guess?” I offered.
“What is he talking about?” the Paragon mimicked in an irritating, high pitched voice. “I’m talking about you—” he pointed a finger at Killian, “and you—” he moved his finger and stabbed it at me. “Being so wrapped up in each other you ignore me!”
I furrowed my eyebrows deeper, but Killian pinched the bridge of his perfectly straight nose and slightly shook his head.
The Paragon continued his rant, planting his hands on his hips. “You’re terrible friends. Terrible!” He shook out his robe, his lips jutting out in a pout. “You’re worse than two teenagers who have just entered a relationship! Killian, how old are you? Well beyond the years it is acceptable for you to act twitterpated. Shame on you for leaving me high and dry just because your girlfriend is back!” he scolded.
I had been thinking that the Paragon was going to give himself a headache if he kept this tantrum up much longer, but he might have had a point—not the one he thought he did, but a point for me.
I mean, when he called me Killian’s girlfriend, a stupid part of me did feel stupidly giddy. I was losing it! If I wasn’t careful, I’d soon be doodling hearts whenever I thought about Killian.
I gritted my teeth and forcibly collected myself into what I considered a more proper reaction of slightly irritated bewilderment. “Are you seriously here to complain that we’re having fun without you and you feel left out?”
“Yes! I mean, no!” The Paragon drew himself up again. “I mean I’ve been slumping around this stupid city for days, waiting for you two to come ask me for help with the Night Court! And you never showed!”
Fat crocodile tears that I was 99% sure were dramatized glazed the Paragon’s eyes as he melodramatically wiped them. “I stood in the ice cream aisle for an hour. My hands got cold! And I’m now banned from the library!”
“Really?” Killian picked up his smartphone from the chair he’d left it on. “I’ll have to make a note of that.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?” the Paragon demanded, taking large shuddering breaths like a woman in one of those silent, black and white movies. “You horrible man! Aphrodite was right about you!” he hiccupped, then erupted into sobs.
“You wanted us to seek you out for help with the Night Court?” Killian asked.
“Yes!” the Paragon spat. “You’ve bothered me with hundreds of other minor things! Naturally, when it counted I assumed you’d want my help as well! So much for believing we were such close friends!”
“So I was right!” I brightened. “I think it was when we visited you for the book that I said you two were friends, and you both got disgusted with me and claimed you weren’t.”
Killian scoffed. “It’s because we’re not.”
The Paragon drew back, as if Killian had slapped him. “How dare you say that?!”
Now that I knew what really had the Paragon complaining, I found the situation a lot less confusing and a whole heck of a lot more entertaining.
Killian, however, didn’t seem to share my amusement. “Stop grinning,” he ordered. “You’re only feeding into his dramatics.”
“But this is an occasion to celebrate,” I said.
Killian warily eyed me. “Is it?”
“Yes!” I winked at him. “It’s so hard for you to make friends after all.”
Killian’s brow lowered by several degrees, and the black in his eyes seemed to grow. “You’re even worse than he is.”
“It’s okay, Paragon.” I ignored Killian and moved to pat the Paragon’s back—earning me a suspicious gaze from the Eminence. “I understand the situation now.”
“I’m glad to hear someone does!” The Paragon used his beard to wipe his face off—after all of this I wasn’t just suspicious that the Paragon wasn’t as old as he looked, but completely certain he was way younger than he chose to appear.
“I’m sorry you were waiting for us,” I started. “But even before Killian and I had really…er…made up,” I stumbled slightly, trying to name the re-adjustment to our relationship that we still hadn’t quite given a name to, “we talked about you and agreed we couldn’t ask you for help or advice in this, or the fae might see it as you giving us special treatment.”
It was the truth—and even more startlingly it had been Killian’s idea.
I’d been all for pumping the Paragon for information, but Killian had strongly opposed the idea. I had assumed it was because of his trust-lacking ways and he believed the Paragon would betray us and tell the Night Court we’d talked to him. But after the meeting with the local vampires at the Curia Cloisters, it was more likely he was telling the truth and not only did he want to avoid enlarging the possible conflict by involving the Paragon, he was attempting to shield his friend from picking sides by simply evading him all together.
“No one would get upset,” the Paragon scoffed. “The Night Court has gotten itself on everyone’s ‘to be hated’ list with their idiotic actions and the legal and political repercussions it’s harvesting them.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But the other fae Courts might feel a bit resentful if the Paragon—their national representative—were to help a vampire Family and wizard House defeat a fae Court, no matter how much Queen Nyte deserves to be walloped.”
The Paragon itched his nose for several moments. “Yes,” he finally said. “That sounds about right. But! You could have told me!” He went back to poking a finger at Killian. “Especially you! You barged in on my life at all sorts of inconvenient times as long as you were fighting with your precious over here, and now that she’s back I am suddenly ignored? So cold!”
“You visited the Paragon while we were fighting?” I asked.
“We weren’t actively fighting, we were in a disagreement,” Killian said.
“Hmph.” The Paragon leaned near and spoke in the loudest whisper I’d ever heard. “See how he’s trying to nit-pick to distract you from answering your question? Classic avoidance technique.”
Killian shot the Paragon an annoyed look. “If you’re so upset I wasn’t visiting, you could have just called, like a normal supernatural.”
“I,” the Paragon snootily adjusted his spectacles, “am above such pettiness. Also, my cellphone doesn’t always work in my pocket realm.”
I reclaimed my chisa katana—it seemed like practice was over, because I didn’t think the Paragon was going anywhere soon. “Would you like to join us for coffee or tea—or blood, in Killian’s case.”
“He can wait until you leave.” Killian checked his cellphone. “You said you were leaving in half an hour.”
“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” the Paragon snidely said. “Maybe I just want to talk to Hazel since she understands me.”
Killian narrowed his eyes. “If you are implying—”
“For heaven’s sake, no!” The Paragon rolled his eyes. “I am not trying to put the moves on your beloved, so don’t chip your fangs gnashing your teeth. My gosh, as if I’d think of a wizard like that! No offense.”
“None taken,” I said. “You’re too old for me anyway.”
“Oh, you think he’s younger than I am?” The Paragon nodded at Killian. “I have got news for you, sister. He—”
“Fine,” Killian sighed. “I’ll call for refreshments.”
The Paragon brightened. “No need! We can go to my place. Hold on!”
The sneaky fae had his unicorn coin purse out before Killian could refuse, and snapped it open.
Wind swept through the gym. I clamped my eyes shut when they started to water. Magic rippled around us, the wind died down, and when I opened my eyes we were in the Paragon’s study—which was settled in his private pocket realm in the fae realm.
The study was stuffed with gorgeous wooden bookshelves, almost to the point of feeling overcrowded, but it was such a unique blend of old magic and human tech toys that it was always fun to visit.
A statue of a unicorn carved out of a crystal was settled on a shelf with a sleek video gaming system.
His desk—made out of a living tree—held stacks of books older than America, and what looked like one of the first iPod models.
Vials filled with curious liquids were lined up neatly on spice racks, and beneath them was an empty carton of Chinese takeout.
As always, the most noticeable thing about the study was the enormous velvet pet bed. It had changed locations from a bookshelf to the open mouth of a dragon head statue that was about the size of a pony. Lounging on that bed was a gloriously hairless sphinx cat.
Today she was rolled up like a giant, pink egg, her head tucked almost invisibly under her body.
“Hello, Aphrodite,” I said.
She unearthed her head, revealing ears so big they were bat-like. She gave me a friendly “Mmert”, and stretched, jiggling the tiny gold bell on her collar—which appeared to be embroidered with real gold.
“Aphrodite!” The Paragon scratched her chin and cooed over her. “Help me pick out a tea for my guests!” He scooped up the hairless cat and carried her across the study to a locked cabinet.
Killian hovered so close to my shoulder I could feel that perpetual air of coolness that followed him. “What are you intending to feed us?” he asked.
“I’m making you a loose-leaf tea.” The Paragon tapped the lock of the wooden cabinet. The lock clicked open and the doors swung open, revealing rows and rows of canisters covered with gauzy blue silk. “You should be honored! Tea is a fae specialty we learned centuries ago from the elves themselves! We don’t often make it for outsiders—I certainly never have!”