Ethan said nothing for a long moment, but he studied me, his dark gaze missing nothing. “Perhaps I will seek out your services one day, Miss Quinn. You seem to have quite the talent for beautifying spaces.”
I pushed magic through my veins to keep my heart rate steady. The absolute last thing I wanted was more attention from the Shifter Lords. “Most people hate dandelions, Mr. Flint. If you’re willing to put up with the weeds and overabundance of natives for a while, I’ll be happy to help you.”
“Sans contract,” Ethan said.
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sure you and the other Shifter Lords are as honorable and trustworthy as ours is.”
Caelan made a choking noise.
Ethan dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I’m sure we will see you around soon, Miss Quinn.”
I certainly hoped not, but I slapped a friendly smile on my face. “Follow the dandelions.”
Ethan spun on his heel and returned to the SUV. As if on cue, the other shifters, except Caelan, did the same.
Our eyes met. “Be careful, Evie,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “The other Shifter Lords are not like me.”
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Do you like that Jacaranda?” I whispered back.
“I like the woman who gave it to me.” Caelan winked and turned to follow the others.
Oof.
That did not go so well.
Shit.
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
CAELAN
All the Lords had convened at the Keep once more, requiring me to be on constant alert. We sat in the War Room, at a round table reminiscent of days of yore, except with a massive pile of food and drinks in the middle instead of maps to plot our conquering.
There were seven Shifter Lords in total. I controlled Texas and the Borderlands. Halvar, Lord of the Midwest, sat to my right. He was dark-haired and blue-eyed and possessed a melodic accent, European, if I had to guess. Maybe Irish. I’d always been crap at identifying accents.
He was different from how he used to be, and none of us could pinpoint why, though some of us guessed it had to do with his wife leaving him a few years ago. Bringing it up would be a certain death sentence, so we all tiptoed around it and pretended everything was fine.
Rowan was at my left. Lord of the Pacific Northwest. He was a strange shifter, deeply tied to his lands. I suspected he possessed more than a little nature magic. If I had to call any of the Lords a friend, it would be Rowan.
Next to him was Soren, a silver-tongued asshole who ran the Deep South territories. Ethan was beside him. I knew him theleast, but knew him to be a paranoid bastard, deeply tied to tradition. He was the most likely to oppose me if tensions in our Council ever got to that point.
Thorvin sat next to Ethan. He was the quiet scholar among us and Lord of the Northeast territories. I respected him and knew to listen when he spoke.
The last Lord was Donovan. I liked him the least. He craved alliances more than power, which made him the most dangerous because our Council relied on votes to pass motions. He was susceptible to flattery and bribery, meaning you could easily win his vote if you had the right amount of money to offer.
“The Floromancer might be a danger,” Ethan said once the gavel cracked against the table, announcing the start of our meeting.
Rowan snorted. “You think a plant mage is a danger? Pray tell what makes you draw that conclusion.”
Ethan gave him a dark look. “She feels like no other Floromancer I’ve been around.”
“Still not a reason,” Rowan said. “Perhaps there is something additional in her blood that makes her magic different. She’s committed no crimes.”
“I’d say that massive purple eyesore outside is a crime,” Soren said dryly.
Evie’s display of power still had the Keep in a tizzy, though I’d instructed everyone to keep their mouth shut once the other Lords had arrived. If anyone was going to investigate Evie, it’d be me. Not the others who didn’t belong here.
