Bedlam Boyz(81)

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"Those idiots," Shari said, slamming down the phone receiver into its cradle. "They're useless, totally useless."

"Then you shouldn't use them, my dear," Perenor said from across the room, his feet propped up on the end of the couch. He looked the picture of an indolent elflord, sipping from a glass of wine, his suit tie undone and lying on the couch next to him.

"What are you suggesting, my lord?" Shari asked tartly. He's ceasing to be amusing, she thought. He's as cold in bed as he is outside of it. And it's because he's toying with me; I know he is. He wants something more from me, and he's only playing games until he gets it. . . .

"Just that this could be done much more easily by you and me than by some of those rejects of the Unseelie Court."

Shari stiffened at that remark, and Perenor smiled.

"Does that bother you, my dear?" he asked silkily. "I would have thought not. That you would care as little about your exile from the Unseelie Court as I do about mine from the Seelie Court."

He gestured at the view of the ocean through the pane glass windows. "Isn't this much better than living in the Unseelie Court, in that dark, desolate place? I've been to the Unseelie lands, so lifeless and lacking in magic. Do you really want to go back there?"

"I will return home," Shari said, a touch of steel in her voice. "My lord Nataniel will see to that."

"Ah, Nataniel," Perenor said. "An interesting fellow . . . ambitious, intelligent. I just wonder what he'll be able to accomplish with it."

"I am loyal to—" Shari began, but Perenor cut off her words with a gesture.

"I know you are, Sharanya. That is one of the things I admire the most about you. I just wonder whether that loyalty might be misplaced." He rose from the couch, walking to the wet bar to pour himself another glass of dark red wine.

"What do you mean, my lord?" Shari asked.

Perenor turned, the glass of wine in his hand. "Just this. Imagine for a moment you, Nataniel, my daughter Ria, and I are to meet and discuss various business ventures tonight. We have dinner reservations for five o'clock, as I recall."

"Yes. What of it?"

"Let's say that you and I were to leave now, to go to that high school where your inept associates completely failed to capture the young human mage. There will be records of where this little mage lives somewhere in their files. We search through the records, or use the administrators to find the information. . . . "

"Easily done," she said. "They are only humans, after all."

"Agreed. Some simple magic to force them to tell us what we need to know. Then, at dinner tonight, we convince Nataniel that we should go pick up this mage immediately. After all, that's a pet project of his, isn't it? And then, somehow, during the course of capturing it . . . something unfortunate happens to Nataniel." He raised his glass to her in a toast. "And then you, my dear, would be free to return to the Unseelie lands with your elven host, with the human mage at your side to defeat the Unseelie Queen for you."

"But I wouldn't . . . "

"Think about it," Perenor said, smiling. "Nataniel cares too much about this human world. That's why he's built an empire here. Do you really believe him when he says that he wants to go home?"

"I don't know," Shari admitted. "Sometimes I believe him, but . . . " She glanced up at him, eyes narrowed. "And what do you get out of this, my lord Perenor?"

He shrugged. "I could say I do it simply out of my regard for you, that I care about you and I want to see you happy. But you would assume that was a lie, of course. Let's say this, instead: I help you gain the Unseelie throne, and then you'll grant me your aid to use against the Seelie Court. I have no great desire to return there, but I do owe them something for exiling me."

"Now that is a motivation I understand," Shari said. She moved past him, pouring wine into another glass. "You could lie to me, though," she said, "Just a little. Pretend that you're doing this because you care for me. That you'd love me infinitely, the way the humans do."

"Should I?" Perenor said, an amused tilt to his lips. "Do you want me to lie to you, Shari? Should I tell you about the beauty of your eyes, the way that your hair falls in such lovely flowing waves to your waist?" He moved closer to her, smiling that wicked smile, stray rays of sunlight from the window glinting off his silvery hair. "What other lies would you have me tell you?"

"All of those and more," she said, taking a sip from her wineglass, close enough that she could have leaned forward to touch him.