“Ask away.”
Questions that had filled her overworked brain scurried as if from an opened door. So she snared a couple of the closest: “Do people live on the moon?”
“Humans have accomplished landings only. No colonies or anything like that.”
“Are there female political leaders?” She took a sip of her drink. Ah, plum brandy. Her favorite.
“More than there were in your time, but no’ nearly enough.”
She arched her brows. “You think there should be more?”
“In the Lore, we have a good number of them. They do a fine job. Why would it be different for humans?”
Why indeed? “Loa said she preferred this time. Do you think I would?”
She expected him to say, Of course you will because it’s the best!
He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to rethink his answer. “I will no’ give you my opinion of this time. How can a Scottish immortal male speculate on what a Transylvanian woman’s experience will be like?”
As soon as she’d decided he was the most wrongheaded, obstinate Lorean ever born, he would say something that spoke of a fair sensibility.
“You’re a clever female, Kereny. You’ll form your own opinion.”
I always do. “I’m curious what Loa’s species is.” The priestess was brimming with powers, yet she feared her fate as one of Dorada’s debtors.
“Most canna determine it through scent or sight. And a Lykae’s Instinct will come up flummoxed.”
“You two have a romantic history, do you not?”
“We kissed once.” He shrugged. “It was no’ what either of us hoped for, so we left it at that.”
Ren pictured the two of them kissing, and jealousy seethed. If Munro continued getting under her skin, then she couldn’t return to her time fast enough. Keep your tunnel of focus on the goal. “What do you know about Dorada?”
“More than most. Prince Garreth and his mate saw her before her ring was stolen, when she was still a dried-up husk of a mummy.”
“A mummy?” Ren had read about them, but she’d never seen one.
He nodded. “Dorada rose to hunt for her precious ring, following its call to the Order’s prison installation, the same one where my brother was a captive.”
Munro had said the Order had experimented on his brother. And I asked for their address. Her cheeks heated. “Did he encounter her?”
“Aye. She was still regenerating when she stormed the prison. Will described her as an eerie, rotting witch, moaning for her riiiinnnnngggg.”
Yet Munro intended to bargain with such a creature? Continuing her ruse, Ren said, “As long as her ring works, I don’t care what she looks like.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He switched his knife and fork between hands to cut his steak. Ren had witnessed those long fingers snatching heads from necks, yet now they deftly maneuvered silverware.
Stop staring at his fingers!
“I’m curious about circus life,” he said. “Tell me about your act. Did you throw knives at an assistant on a spinning wheel?”
“Yes, the villagers love the wheel of death.” When she’d first set her sights on that feat, she’d asked herself, How difficult can it be to throw daggers at a person strapped to a moving wheel? Her determination had answered, Very. But you can do that, and far, far more. “The income helps fund the circus’s efforts.”
He took another swig from his glass. His drink of choice reminded her of his words: Have no’ had a nip of whiskey, nor a female beneath me . . .
Her thoughts tumbled to that sinful play with him in the cave, stoking her arousal. If she didn’t get herself under control, he’d probably be able to scent his effect on her. Would he try to capitalize on it?
“Did you enjoy performing?” he asked in an even tone as he took another bite. Maybe he was so experienced with females—with the nymphs who would be weepin’ from the loss of his “service”—that this was just another romantic dinner for him.
One of a million over his long, long life.
“I did enjoy performing.” Needled by jealousy, she added, “The exhilaration from a great show could only be equaled by a great hunt.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Tell me about the other circus members.”
She saw no reason not to. “Vanda, the fortune-teller, has been my mentor for years. She and Puideleu, the lion tamer, are inseparable. They’re like my grandparents. Jacob’s too. He adores the pair.”
“Does he, then?” And Munro accused her of poker face? He was good at hiding his expressions, but tension had crept into his shoulders at the mention of Jacob’s name. “Your parents were part of the circus too, I assume. What were they like?”
Ren pushed food around on her plate, too keyed up to eat more. “By day, Matei Codrina was a horse trainer known among the carnies for his soft touch and amazing results. Stefania was a knife thrower of renown, with more mettle than a thousand men. By night, my father was a tracker who always found his prey, and my mother never missed her target. They were legendary together.”