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Chapter One

T he lanterns bobbed overhead like tipsy dancers caught in the balmy breeze, the scent of hyacinth heavy in the air, promising a delightful evening full of chatter, laughter, and best of all, scandalous gossip. Leticia Marin’s annual garden party was a veritable whirlwind of socialites, each one trying to outshine the other with their designer outfits and sharp tongues. It was even more crowded this year, thanks to the buzz surrounding Singsong’s newest sensation: Senator Omar Silverton, the young, handsome, charmingly eligible bachelor who had recently moved to Singsong City.

As I glided through the throngs of guests, I kept out a watchful eye for him. He was already a celebrity, and who wouldn’t want a front-row seat to a little political drama, particularly if it made good copy for my next article? Silverton was well-known as a senator, but in Singsong, he was the Librarian, Elizabeth Montaine’s lawyer, and everyone who was anyone wanted an in with that elusive female.

Her father, Senator Stephen Montaine, had left a legacy by uniting the largest sects in the country, namely the Gray Society and the HOSTs, sealing his work with his mysterious death. Everyone wanted to know what the link was between the legend, Senator Montaine, and the newcomer, Senator Silverton. He had a reputation for ‘getting things done,’ but no one was sure how high his connections went, or what his real motives were, politically or personally. It was my business to find out whatever I could for the good of society. It wouldn’t hurt my own career, either. Amidst the clinking glasses and fluttering silk, tonight promised not just pretty flowers, but unfiltered conversations and possibly a few revelations worth their weight in gold.

“Well, Delphi?” Leticia cried, looping my arm in hers and beaming at me, her love of tulips overcoming her usual reserved poise.

I smiled at Leticia, the older matron of Singsong society in her lilac gown. “Your tulips are even lovelier than they were last year. How do you do it?”

She wagged a finger at me. “Now, Delphi, I can’t tell you my secrets to spill across the pages of Singer’s society section.”

She honestly thought that bulb fertilizer would make scintillating news. Perhaps in Elven circles. “You’ve caught me. It’s actually my mother who keeps pestering me for the deep, dark secrets of your horticultural genius. You see she…”

Leticia grabbed my arm and peered over my shoulder, so I half-turned, following her gaze.

“He really came. Do you think he’s actually interested in flowers, or is he being a politician?”

Senator Silverton looked like moonlight spilled from an ink bottle, shimmering black hair, fair skin, handsome the way only a pure elf could be, otherworldly, but with a smile so warm and inviting, he was almost approachable. Almost. There was something about the breadth of his shoulders that made one pause.

“And he came with Forsythia? They make a stunning couple. I think that she’s almost a pureblood elf. Only one of her parents has human blood, nothing else to muddy the waters. Her hair is almost as light as his is dark.”

I flinched at the use of ‘muddy the waters’ in regard to human blood. As a half-gnome, half-elf, I was probably too sensitive to off-hand comments about the supposed purity of one’s blood. She was right in that they did make a handsome couple, her silvery blonde hair contrasting beautifully with his raven locks. Seeing them together set my teeth on edge for some reason, maybe because Forsythia’s usual air of superiority was heightened as she clung to the arm of a man who was more than her equal. Maybe it was because they were so tall, and my gnome heritage would make me have to look up at both of them, literally, resulting in an extreme neck pain. I’d have to go to the chiropractor after I interviewed him.

I returned my focus to my hostess. “If anyone is here for gossip instead of tulips, they’ll be a convert after your garden party. What was your inspiration for the garden maze and those charming animal sculptures?” I wasn’t going to spend my entire evening longing for a beautiful man that was completely out of my orbit.

“Oh, well,” she said, distracted by the newcomers until she refocused on my question. “The zoo, of course. Someone proposed a fundraiser, an animal-themed masked ball. I thought I’d warm society up with a little maze. Do you like it? It’s not a traditional sculpture garden—I did have to work with last-minute limitations, after all—but I believe it turned out quite charming.”

I nodded appreciatively. “Charming doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s such a breath of fresh air, and such a worthy cause. Who is planning the masked ball?”

She spoke in a low voice, leaning towards me while her blue eyes sparkled. “I suppose it won’t remain a secret for long, considering you’re such good friends with Zephin Clay. He’ll host it at the zoo, of course. Can you see it? Animal masks dotted across the lush sloping lawns around the promenade, the picturesque bridges, provided they hold up for the evening, of course.” She sighed heavily. That part of the zoo was in dire need of rehabilitation. I’d written an article about it just last month.

My father’s friend was a very proper elf, who, as far as I could remember, hadn’t ever thrown a ball of any kind, much less an animal themed masquerade. “Mr. Clay is hosting that kind of soiree? I thought he preferred dinner and conversation, but if he takes this on, it’s bound to be unforgettable.” I couldn’t imagine the media mogul putting on an elephant mask, but he knew how to innovate when it was important to his business. He owned the paper, Singer, that paid my bills, so what was good for his business was good for me.

She laughed and shook her head in agreement. “True enough. It was your article, I believe, that gave him the idea. You do write persuasively. Do you think you’ll cover more serious topics?”

I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. “I was the only one who had time for the article, but I’m just a society reporter.”

Just then, Forsythia glided up to us, dazzling as ever, and a handsome Elven prince—er, senator—firmly attached to her side.

“Leticia, can I introduce you to my friend?” Forsythia said, looking up at her prize through her thick lashes. He was tall enough that even the tall pureblood elf girl had to look up at him, and she was making the most of it.

I was definitely going to strain my neck as the tall man came closer, smelling of woods at night and a hint of something spicy that made me want to lean closer. I hadn’t seen him since the Librarian’s wedding to the Scholar. I hadn’t actually spoken to the Senator, but I couldn’t help watching him then and now. I shook myself when I realized I was staring again at the high cheekbones, perfectly straight nose, and firm mouth. Did he notice me staring? What was one mousy working-class girl in a sea of dazzling elites? He wouldn’t look at me twice, and everyone was staring at the stunning senator. Also, it was my job. Why did I feel so self-conscious around him? So what if he was clearly with Forsythia, who was everything an ambitious senator would want? I wasn’t in the market for a relationship, so why would I feel that tinge of jealousy when I looked at them?

I let myself get pushed away from Leticia and the shining couple by the eager guests who surrounded him, hungry for an introduction.

I should press in like a good reporter, get my scoop and care more about my article than looking like an idiot, but I had other regular society favorites that I needed to check in with, to hear their thoughts on Leticia’s garden, and perhaps spread the rumor of a masked ball at the zoo, mysterious host unknown.

I did my part, mingling, taking notes on a napkin of names and dates as I got the latest civilized gossip. I also wrote down notes of the night’s scent, the mood of the evening, the way the lanterns made the tulips look more velvety, while the scent of daffodil and hyacinth became absolutely intoxicating.

“Delphi, you’re positively elusive this evening,” Forsythia said, catching my arm and swinging me around.

I looked at the blonde in surprise, then at the tall, muscular elf who was looking at me with a slightly amused expression. He was very well-muscled if the way he wore his tuxedo was any indication. Maybe he padded it. If so, they were very good pads, in just the right place to speak to my love of brawny brute strength. Was my mouth watering? He smelled even better this close, but when I saw his eyes in detail, I forgot about everything else. Violet. Various shades of purple lined by lush lashes made him almost too pretty. Violets were my favorite flower, and I loved a lot of flowers. Carnations. That was the underlying spice I’d smelled earlier. He wasn’t wearing a carnation, so why did he smell like one? The wolf in the back of my brain whined and wanted to taste him to unravel the mystery of whether he was violets or carnations.

I gave him a quick smile and forced my attention back to Forsythia, my old friend from college. Friend? How could I be friends with someone who hated who I was under my skin? Every time she railed against werewolves, I found our friendship shriveling smaller and smaller. “Forsythia. It’s so good to see you, and you’ve managed to convince the senator to come.” I gave her a warm hug. She was as cool as an elf should be, but put up with my affectionate gnome ways. Maybe I should stop hugging her. There were so few people I touched anymore, and I was half gnome. Hugging is practically religion to my mother’s family.

She laid a hand on his chest, possessive and pleased with her catch. “Yes, this is Silverton. You should interview him about his political leanings. Maybe find out what he’s doing in Singsong City. You got a house here near Lafayette, didn’t you?” she asked, turning to him with a demure yet flirty smile.

He nodded at her, but then he focused on me and I could feel my neck getting stiff. He was dangerously attractive from afar, but close up he was absolutely lethal. And he knew it. If I knew anything about people, Senator Silverton used his looks to unbalance those around him, to get them to put down their guard. It wasn’t vanity that had him brushing his hair to a glowing sheen, but manipulation. Unless I was wrong. That happened more often than I liked.

“Are you hoping to do a piece on me?” he asked, all cold politeness.

I smiled and shook my head. “I’m just a society reporter, not a political journalist covering policies and elections. I’m sure you’d rather interview with Bertran or Bernice, or one of the national reporters.”

He humphed, and we both stared at him. For an elf, that was incredibly rude. Elves didn’t make sounds. They spoke clearly, eloquently, and always politely. His voice was a low rumble of dismissiveness. “That’s right. You’re only a fluff writer. Best to leave the serious writing to a serious journalist.”

I stared at him, blinking while my heart beat faster and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. That was an insult. Even for someone who wasn’t an elf with their strict code of conduct, it would be rude. “I beg your pardon?” Surely he’d misspoken. He was a politician and an elf. Whatever he said was intentional, and no politician would bother to insult an insignificant society reporter.

He gave me a charming smile. Now he’d say something that smoothed my feathers and made me vote for him. “You’d rather feed the egos of the self-important nonessential instead of focusing your efforts on making an actual difference in the world.” His voice was smooth, the tone everything polite and pleasant, but the words were as sharp as a slap, leaving me reeling.

The senator had insulted me. Twice. About my job. Was he going to mock me for being short, too?

I laughed and shrugged helplessly. “At least I don’t walk around making people crane their necks. It must be hard to be so high and mightily above everyone around you.”

Forsythia gasped, and I stiffened up. I’d insulted him back. On a job when my livelihood depended on me being notoriously pleasant and slightly bumbling. Harmless. That’s what I was. I didn’t have four-inch fangs hiding beneath my skin that could easily rip out Forsythia and the Senator’s throats. Nope. I forced another laugh, this time sounding slightly hysterical. The senator’s eyes gleamed, and his brow flicked, showing an emotion that the rest of his body hid with perfect indifference.

Forsythia laughed melodiously and put a hand on his arm. “I think I see someone else you’d like to meet.”

He smiled at her warmly. “You are very considerate to introduce me to all of your lovely friends and acquaintances.”

They walked away, me still standing there, stunned by the words that had come out of such a pretty face and the fact that I’d insulted him in return. If Forsythia hadn’t dragged him away, I might have kicked his shins. I looked down at my red heels that went so well with my simple crimson sheath dress. No, this wasn’t a kicking-shins outfit. Not that they had those. Where were my knitting needles when I needed them? I had an image of stabbing the perfectly gorgeous elf through his tuxedo. Bad Delphi. Knitting wasn’t for stabbing, but for keeping me from breaking out the wolf and dominating the frustratingly vain populace it was my job to flatter.

I was still standing there, watching the Senator and Forsythia mingle with apparent ease when someone stepped behind me and held a drink over my shoulder, vanilla with a touch of rose. How appropriate for a garden party. The scent of old papers and chlorophyl was distinctly my father’s old friend.

“You met the senator. What do you think of him?” His voice was elegant, arch, slightly cynical.

I turned around to smile at my boss’s boss, Zephin Clay, the media mogul who’d helped me get a job almost thirteen years ago when I’d been so desperate to regain some humanity. He was tall, as all elves are, with silver eyes and hair that he’d no doubt been born with. His face was more angular than the senator’s, and there was something fox-like about him. Clever. Amused at the foolishness of others.

“Mr. Clay,” I said, taking the drink with a genuine smile. “Have you seen the maze? I thought it might be of particular interest to you.” I raised a brow to suggest that I knew his secrets.

He smiled and took my arm, leading me in the direction of the maze, away from the main party. He was another extremely handsome elf, but old enough that he looked ageless instead of young, like the senator. “Miss Era, are we on such formal terms?” His eyes twinkled, and I let my smile warm up as I focused on my father’s old friend instead of watching Senator Silverton’s progress through the garden.

“Mr. Clay, as we both know, there’s no such thing as too much formality between elves.”

“But are you an elf?”

I raised a brow. “Just because I’m short doesn’t mean that I’m not elf enough to appreciate the use of honorifics. What do you think of them?” I asked, nodding at the two fifteen-foot metal lions that stretched up as if to battle each other, paws and claws extended.

“You spoke to Lady Leticia,” he said drily as we passed beneath the frozen drama. “Do you think a masked ball would be ridiculous?”

“If you hosted, how could it be anything other than tastefully brilliant?”

“You don’t think me too dull to put on such an extravaganza, Miss Era?”

“Dull? Zephin Clay the great innovator? You must be joking.”

He smiled slightly. “You prefer to speak about a maze rather than the exciting young senator? I’m intrigued. He didn’t catch your eye? I find that hard to believe.”

“He spoke more bluntly than I expected from a politician or an elf. That’s all.”

His eyes shone with interest. “Did he? Shall I refuse him entrance to the ball? That’ll show some Texan upstart that he can’t insult our dear Delphi and get away with it.”

I shook my head. “He didn’t insult me. Nothing like that. He just talked about journalism in general. I don’t believe he’s a fan,” I said softly.

“Then he insulted both of us. I’ll certainly ban him from my ball.”

“I’m sure if that’s the case, you were already looking for a reason to blacklist him. What did he do?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He pursed his lips slightly before he shrugged. “It’s his assistant that’s so irritating. He’s a goblin, but so persuasive and clever, you’d think he was a siren, stealing away your soul. I’ve always wanted to do a good exposé on the senator, and have tried with multiple channels, but it’s always the same dull, carefully rehearsed story that doesn’t dig into who he really is, or what he really wants. I don’t mind a corrupt politician. I know what to do with that, but I have no idea if he is or not, or what his actual agenda is.” He narrowed his eyes as he studied me. “If he was honest with you…”

I held up my hands and backed away. “Writing a political exposé is the last thing I want to do. He’s right. I’m a fluff writer, and that’s how I want to stay.”

“A fluff writer?” He raised a dark brow and then frowned. “That’s all he said? That’s not enough to really draw any conclusions from. You should have argued, accused him of something, so he had to defend himself, to break down his natural reticence.”

“Or I could talk to you about your masked ball. When are you thinking of hosting it?”

He gave me a slight frown, considering if he wanted to push the subject of the senator. “In the summer, after Bram’s wedding. What will you go as?” he asked, stopping to look at a group of sculptures, a large fox chasing three rabbits with a bear in the background. “You ran away from him like a rabbit.”

“A bunny? That would be adorable.” I made a point of looking as adorable as possible, but it helped that I really didn’t like conflict.

“Or a bear. They’re cuddly. Gnomes are notoriously cuddly,” he said, eyes traveling over me the way males did from time to time. Only no, of course an elf wasn’t interested in curves, particularly an old friend of my father’s. He was considering what animal I most closely resembled. All the same, being looked at so appraisingly reminded me of something. He’d looked at me like that before, a very, very long time ago, commenting on my having grown up to be a beauty. Oh! That’s right, it was at the college dance fifteen years ago, the night I was infected by a werewolf I never saw, heard, smelled, or felt. My heart twisted at the memory, when I’d been so innocent and full of hopes and dreams.

I held onto my smile, even though it felt brittle. “I think I’d rather go as something exotic, like an alpaca.” Alpaca yarn was so fun to knit.

He almost laughed, but he remained his distinguished air, only letting his eyes smile. “An alpaca? Oh, yes, I can see how elegant this party will be.”

I slipped my arm in his, looking up at him. “I promise I’ll be a very elegant alpaca. You really should do it. The zoo is on its last legs and is one of the original landmarks of Singsong City since the World’s Fair a hundred years ago. It needs strong donors, or it can’t continue to exist at all, much less be free to those who are less fortunate.”

His eyes shifted from amused to intent, like he’d heard of a new company he wanted to purchase to expand his domain. “Hm. Well, if you promise to strive for elegance, I suppose I’ll have to do it.”

We turned a corner and almost walked into the senator where he was standing in the middle of the shadowy path, like he was waiting for us. His eyes looked indigo in this light.

“Are you lost?” I asked, then felt idiotic. Senator Silverton was an elf. Elves had an impeccable sense of direction.

He smiled slightly while his violet eyes glimmered. “That’s right. Miss Era, do you mind giving me a tour of the maze? I’m afraid that I’m in grave need of assistance.”

I looked up at Mr. Clay for a moment and then at the senator, who was very clearly in-control and capable of finding his way out of the small garden maze. He must have returned to apologize to me for his incredible rudeness earlier. Of course he was.

I relaxed and gave Mr. Clay a small smile. “It seems I am needed. I’ll try to shake him down for something juicy,” I added in a loud whisper so the senator would hear.

Clay’s smile to Silverton was civil, but only barely. “Of course. I need to speak to Leticia about her stunning maze, anyway.” He gave me a slight wink, then took my hand, placed it on Silverton’s, and strode off. Because he thought I could crack the incredibly tough shell of the senator if his best reporters couldn’t do it.

I sighed and shook my head, watching Zephin Clay become just another shadow among the sculptures.

“We’re close to the African sculpture garden, if you’d like to start there,” I said politely, looking up at him to find him watching the shadows where Zephin Clay had gone.

Senator Silverton turned a warm smile on me, and my knees went weak. Elves shouldn’t seem warm, or you’d accidentally think they liked hugs.

“He left you with me rather abruptly. I hope he’s not ill.” His voice was so decadent and delicious that I leaned closer, inhaling that delicious scent of night woods and carnations. I brushed his chest with mine when I realized that we were standing in a shadowy corner of Leticia’s garden, staring at each other.

I pulled away and turned to point at the nearest statue. “That’s a rhinoceros.” A spotlight shone on it, outlining the silhouette of the creature who was on two back legs, front legs ready to rip you in pieces.

“Do rhinos stand on their hind legs? I wasn’t aware. You know Mr. Clay well?”

I glanced up at Silverton. And up, and up. He would be a warlord in a different world. Perhaps he wasn’t all elf, like me. I smiled up at the imposing figure, imagining a secret ogre heritage in the scheming politician. “Well enough to know that the only reason he left me with you is that he’s hoping that your previous lack of guarded diplomacy will be repeated, ending in a salacious exposé on the popular senator. He isn’t aware that you came here to apologize.” I smiled a forgiving smile, showing him that I didn’t hold his words against him, but he only studied the rhinoceros statue.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he finally said, turning to face me, expression cool, calculating. “How can you live such a miniscule life?”

Miniscule? I stared at him, completely bewildered. I’d given him a perfect opportunity to be polite and he turned it down? Impossible! “Wait, you didn’t come to find me in the hopes of apologizing, but instead to insult me further?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, still looking at me too intently, peering into my soul and finding it lacking. “I read your article, the one you wrote after the library incident. Your research was stellar, the writing clear and persuasive. You made people think about old things in new ways by reframing the story. And now you’re back to reporting on garden parties.” He gestured at the statue before he took a step closer and turned those disturbing violet eyes on me. “Perhaps someone’s dress won’t be hand-embroidered. The shock. Or perhaps someone will wrinkle their nose in distaste at the champagne. The horror.” He wrinkled his perfect nose in a perfect imitation of Mr. Braxley’s face earlier when he’d claimed his champagne was too stale.

Was the senator joking? Elves didn’t joke. At least not often. He really must have a strain of something else that was rude and blunt. Ogre was definitely a possibility with those broad shoulders. Forsythia would be so disappointed, but I have to admit, I found him slightly more interesting.

I studied him openly in return. His lips were taut, braced for my reaction. He was trying to provoke me. “Embroidery is an art, but shock and horror are what I strive to avoid.”

He nodded, looking at me like he could see me in the dark as easily as I could see him. “Yes, I realize that, but your talents are wasted because of your aversion to reality. I hate waste, and I hate avoiding necessary unpleasantness for the sake of denial.”

I blinked at him, my mouth opening and closing while I struggled to know exactly what to say in return to his blunt honesty. Why would he want me to know why he was rude to me? Did he actually think that would influence my career? “And yet, it’s none of your business what I do with my life, or what kind of news I write.”

His lips curled with the slightest sneer. “What do you write? It’s not news.”

If I hadn’t grown up with an elf, I wouldn’t find his expression so insulting. If he kept this up, I really would kick him in the shins. “It’s called good news. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Politics and most other things are bad news. Why not focus on the good?”

“It’s the gnome in you. Must be, because it’s not the elf. If you don’t look at the evil, it will spread unchecked.”

I answered sweetly, “And if you don’t focus on the good, there may as well not be any. You can go out and fight your battles while I stay home and protect what’s good by appreciating it. When you’re broken from your battle against an unconquerable foe, there’s something to come home to.”

He stared at me, almost shocked. “You wish to make a home for a warrior?”

I blinked up at him, for a moment side-tracked. I didn’t date, not when intimacy would reveal all my secrets. I certainly didn’t see marriage in my future. Talking about romance with the senator was surreal. Elves wouldn’t talk about marriage or intimacy until after dating for decades. I hurriedly backpedaled. “Is that what it sounded like? I’m a respectable society journalist. I like what I write, and I like the people I work for. I have a small life, that’s true, but it’s what I want. Just because I don’t want to go out and keep evil from spreading unchecked doesn’t mean my life goals are less valid than yours, Mr. Youngest-Senator-from-Texas-who-probably-knew-what-he-wanted-by-age-five. Live a little.” I tugged on his tie, making it slightly askew. Yes, it was offensive to invade an elf’s space, but he clearly had no problem with offensiveness.

“Live a little?” he asked, tilting his head, bemused, leaving his tie crooked.

“Yes. Live more and judge less. If you’re not happy with the way I work, then be the journalist you think I should be. I have no interest in following anyone else’s dictates, particularly a complete stranger I only just met and hope to never see again.” I winced once the unforgivably rude words were out of my mouth, but he only nodded once.

“You’re happy then? Not simply avoiding unpleasantness because of lingering fear?” His eyes were intense for a moment before he glanced around as we walked through the maze.

“I’m not avoiding negativity, I’m focusing on positivity. Haven’t you ever met a gnome before?”

“But you aren’t just a gnome.”

How offensive. There was nothing ‘just,’ about being a gnome. “No, I’m not just anything. Like elves aren’t just placid rocks in the stream of life, letting everything flow over them. You change currents, but you’re just an elf. Or are you?” It was so rude to suggest that he was part something less respectable, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

He smiled slightly. “You can see my nature even though you refuse to do an exposé on me. Your talents are wasted.”

That was practically a confession! But he was right. I wasn’t going to expose the senator, not when I understood exactly what it was like to hide who I was beneath a sweet and docile exterior. I pointed at him. “Nothing is ever wasted when there is good intention. You think that if something isn’t big and loud, it isn’t valuable? That’s myopic. You can’t see the trees for the forest.”

He leaned closer, the scent of him rushing over me like a storm. “And you can see anything if you care to look, but have no interest in it.” He bowed low, and I realized we’d reached the two warring lions without me realizing that we were walking so quickly.

He said, “It has been a pleasure, Miss Era. Forgive me for my unpleasant company. I am pleased with your life choices if you are pleased with them. Would you like me to escort you back to the party? I’m afraid I have some paperwork I need to take care of and would rather leave by a side exit if you don’t require my company.”

I squinted at him while I studied his strangely relaxed shoulders. That’s where he kept his stress, and now he was much less stressed than at the beginning of the party. What was he really doing here? Not that I cared. I made a point not to get involved with messes. He’d come to find me in the maze. That meant that he was trying to get me involved with the messes I liked to avoid. Was he just perverse like that? He needed to find the one reporter in the world who didn’t want to dig into his psyche and expose him to the world?

I spoke slowly. “You specifically tried to rile me up. Are you looking for a writer to add to your crew? That’s the only thing that explains it. You do everything with intention.” And he’d intended to insult me and offend me from the very first moment we’d been introduced. Being part ogre didn’t explain it, not when he’d made a point to keep his dark side covered, particularly in front of the media.

His smile seemed genuine, violet eyes twinkling. “I’ll find my own way out then. It’s been a pleasure.” He bowed even lower and strode off, leaving me with the lions and the maze behind me.