Enchanted Ever After. Robin D. Owens

everyone else was colors.

      Yoga breaths—three, then another sip of water, blink and smile and think! She wanted to know more about the job. She wanted the job, the career, and to accomplish that, she had to impress the man.

      Jenni had moved away, but left the guy a beer. He was running his index finger down one of the drips of condensation. His eyes met hers briefly and his pale lips curved in a smile that seemed genuine. “Sorry I disconcerted you.”

      Was that what he’d done? Kiri didn’t know. She wiped her hand across her eyes and shook her head. “No problem.” Another deep breath. “I lost track of the conversation. You were telling me about the, uh, new game?”

      “The game is called Transformation and has a preliminary stage, almost a tutorial, like a few other games in the past.” He gestured with his beer. “The individual is ‘tested’ to determine what area they begin the game in.”

      “I’ve heard of that.” Vaguely...she couldn’t snag the detail, though.

      “Yes, we have lands of rivers and volcanoes and aeries and caverns.”

      “Hmm.” She pummeled her memory. “And there was an old game that measured...um...qualities? Like loyalty and honor and compassion?”

      “That’s right.” Again the smile. “Though the prelude of the game has tests which will actually determine your powers and attributes. A...player...does not choose them ahead of time as is usual in most games now.”

      “Interesting twist.” Her water went down better this time. Her breath was steady now. Whatever stupid moment she’d had before had passed.

      His eyes narrowed, the color intense, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “We believe you are an excellent candidate.”

      Kiri blinked. “Yes?”

      “To test through the prologue. Anyone who will be working on the new game will need to go through and clear that part, so you know the basis of the world building.”

      “That makes sense.”

      He leaned over the table. She looked into his eyes again, then he cut his gaze away, seemed to scan the party and flicked his glance back to meet hers. “I believe that you have great potential for this...employment. Can you start on stage one, the prologue of the game on Monday?”

      Her heart thudded hard. She wanted this opportunity to break into game writing so much! She tried to look casual and swallowed another gulp of water. “I can after work is over. I’m downtown—it wouldn’t take me more than a few minutes to make it to Eight Corp’s offices.”

      Lathyr frowned, his fingers slid back and forth on the table. “I would like to offer you employment, but I can’t until you finish going through the preliminary stage of the game. We would, of course, prefer you to be at your best when you work with us. Naturally the person with the highest score—who develops their character to the highest level and with a minimal amount of defeats—will be offered the position first.”

      He was right. She’d be better fresh instead of struggling with a new game after a tiring day of being on a computer and handling complaints.

      “I overheard. We do need to move on this fast.” Jenni sat down beside Kiri. “Do you have any vacation time coming?”

      Kiri gritted her teeth. How much did she want the job? How much did she believe in herself? Enough to use her full two weeks of vacation?

      Yes.

      Gamble, roll the dice and hope. “I can take a full two weeks, but beginning on...Thursday?” A quick glance at their faces. Lathyr seemed attentive, but Jenni had twisted in her seat at the sound of metal sliding on metal. Rafe Davail and some of the unknowns were fighting...with swords. People from the Fencing Lyceum, then.

      “You can ride with me to work on Thursday, if you don’t mind getting in early and waiting while we set up,” Jenni said.

      Her husband was there, shaking his head, looking at Jenni, not Kiri. “No. I’ll be taking you to work, Jenni.”

      Lathyr made an abrupt sound, maybe a curse in his own language.

      “Eight Corp will send a car for you,” Jenni said. “We’ll pay you for your time, though I know it’s not the same as having vacation days. I’ll let Lathyr here close the deal, tell you more.”

      Another dismissal, this one distracted. “That would be good,” Kiri said.

      * * *

      Lathyr met Princess Jindesfarne’s eyes and inclined his head. The clouds and wind had only been a precursor. As Jenni moved away, he believed she’d be reporting to more powerful Lightfolk that minions of a great Dark one were flying over Mystic Circle.

      He could feel the evil, see the gigantic stingray-like creatures as they circled and flickered against the sun. They couldn’t land, but they cast shadows that humans could uneasily sense.

      It pleased his ego that the interesting Kiri Palger remained focused on him. He stood and offered his hand. “Why don’t we walk around the Circle?” This place was safe, but she was human and the others might want to use more magic that would disturb her. The park in the center of the Circle, the koi pond she liked, would be safer for her.

      “You can ask me what you need to know about the project,” he coaxed. Not that he’d tell her much of the truth, but he wanted to touch her and gauge her potential for transforming into one of the Lightfolk, especially here in the Circle where magic was balanced.

      The more time he spent with her, the more he liked her, though he’d made a mistake in holding her gaze. She was human and susceptible to his glamour. He wasn’t pure Waterfolk, but he was pure magic.

      She stayed seated, looked around, then squared her shoulders, something he sensed showed determination. Gestures were different for the Merfolk underwater. If she’d been mer and in the ocean she’d have flipped a hand to send a push of water current aside, indicating power and the willingness to follow through. Both those qualities he thought she had, along with the most important two that he’d discovered humans needed to become Lightfolk—a flexible imagination and a high level of curiosity.

      But as she didn’t rise, he deduced something held her here. “What is it?”

      She flushed, a pretty habit, also not seen much below water where mers kept their body temperature steady and cool. The rush of blood to her skin was unexpectedly enticing. “I still haven’t met all of my neighbors, or interacted with them. I want to stay here.” Her fingers went to the buttoned ends of her shirtsleeves and aligned them some way that seemed right to her. “The job is really important to me, but so is my place here.”

      He stared at her, blinked a couple of times to keep his eyes wet. If she turned into a dwarf or a djinn, even an elf—earth, fire, air elementals—she could possibly remain here. But if she became mer, she would have to move. What waters there were in Colorado were already claimed by naiads and naiaders.

      What were the odds she’d become mer? He didn’t quite know. There had been less than twenty humans changed into magical Lightfolk and though he had recognized their potential, his guesses as to what they might become had been poor. So he dropped his hand and stepped away, disappointment cooling the blood in his veins.

      Princess Jindesfarne, her husband, the Davails and several brownies had disappeared into unruly green brush in the corner of the yard and Lathyr sensed they were working magic. They didn’t seem to care that they had humans, including Kiri, in their midst, who might witness such.

      A wave of balanced power pulsed under his feet, flowed through him, pushed into the sky. Princess Jindesfarne and friends sending the great Dark one’s servants away.

      Sunlight became bright and hard and burning in the thin air.

      Lathyr said to Kiri, “We can talk later. May we send the car for you early Thursday morning, so you and I can discuss this before the workday at seven-thirty? I will be