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“Tried to. But then, my dear cousins would try anything to take the directorship of the company from me.”

“I thought Ljósálfar royal lines didn’t allow women to run companies?” I kicked the door closed and followed him into the living room. “You do realize there’s enough here to feed a small army.”

“They don’t, but that has never stopped a daughter from trying.” He sniffed, a disparaging, haughty sound. “As to the amount of food, I’ve crossed paths with Lugh’s appetite in the past and was actually debating whether I had enough.”

“Four extra-large pizzas is plenty,” Lugh said, as he and Eljin walked in. “That still leaves two pizzas for everyone else to share plus whatever you have in those take-out containers.”

“I kept with the theme and ordered ravioli with ricotta, red peppers, and almonds, a baked pasta with meatballs, aubergine, and smoked cheese, and several tubs of parmesan chips.”

“You can keep the first two, but the third option is an inspired choice,” Lugh said. “Goes with pizza perfectly.”

Mathi shook his head and pulled the various tubs out of the plastic bags. “I am so glad Bethany never shared your heathen tastes. I daresay our relationship would not have lasted as long as it did.”

“I’m an equal opportunity eater,” I said with a grin. “I’ll eat greasy shit just as happily as upmarket.”

Mathi harrumphed and then glanced rather pointedly at Eljin. “And who might this be?”

“This, my friend, is the competition.”

Mathi looked him up and down, a wide grin splitting his features. “And worthy competition, if I’m any judge.”

“And you’re really not,” I murmured. “Although in this instance, you’re also not wrong.”

Eljin flashed me an appreciative smile, then held out his hand. “Eljin Lavigne, newly installed antiquarian at the Fae Museum. I take it you’re Mathi Dhar-Val?”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Have we met? Your name sounds familiar.”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Eljin replied easily. “Perhaps you saw mention of my appointment in the museum’s e-newsletter.”

“Perhaps.” Mathi shrugged, though I knew him well enough to understand he’d not let it go until he remembered. He could be dogged like that.

Lugh placed four glasses on the counter, then opened the two bottles of red. “Enough chit-chat. We need to eat and then get back to reading the scrolls.”

“What scrolls are we talking about?” Mathi asked. “The one Kaitlyn sold Loudon?”

I nodded, grabbed plates and cutlery out of the drawers, and placed them on the counter beside the pizzas and tubs of food. “Unfortunately, it’s one of twelve, so we’ll have to go through each one to find his.”

Mathi picked up the ravioli and scooped some onto a plate. “I’m surprised Cynwrig’s not here, then. He has a deeper understanding of Latin and the older languages than me.”

I gave him the look. The one that said, “Don’t be daft.”

Bedevilment danced through his eyes. “It’s good to know the fishing remains excellent around you.”

I rolled my eyes and piled a mix of chips, pizza, and baked pasta onto my plate, much to Mathi’s obvious horror. You’d have thought that after having ten years to get used to my eating habits, that would not be the case, but elves were nothing if not determined when it came to achieving goals. It didn’t matter if said goals were minor—such as educating my palate or stopping my penchant for swearing—or major—such as getting me back in his bed—he would keep reaching for that win.

We took our time eating and drinking, the conversation flowing easily between the four of us. I couldn’t help but notice how nicely Eljin slid into the group. Cynwrig had as well, of course, but it was far more important—at least for future possibilities—that Eljin got along with the two most important men in my life. Mathi would never share my bed again, but he remained a close friend, and I never wanted that to change.

As we got up to head back downstairs, my phone rang, the tone telling me it was Cynwrig. The man definitely had a knack for knowing when I was thinking about him. I tugged it out of my purse, said, “I need to take this,” then headed into the spare bedroom and closed the door behind me.

“Cynwrig, how goes things?” I flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. And couldn’t help wishing I was staring into smokey silver eyes instead.

“As well as can be expected, given recent events.”

He sounded tired, and my heart twisted for him. “You need to get some sleep.”

“What I need is to find the bastard behind all this.”

“I take it you’ve had no luck linking anyone in the building to our murderous elf?”