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distraction as Hannah, especially with so many weighty matters at hand.
    Garran smiled as he studied his daughter. They had spoken of her mother and earlier he had shared some of the joyful memories with Rhiannon. But he had not yet touched on her life now.
    He laid his hand over Rhiannon’s where it rested on the table. “Are you happy with your mate?”
    Rhiannon had been focused on the D’Danann, Keir, and she cut her gaze to Garran. She cleared her throat and nodded. “I am. Very happy.”
    He offered her a smile and squeezed her fingers. “Then I am pleased for you.”
    â€œThank you.” She looked uncomfortable with his hand on
hers and he released it before selecting a hunk of white cheese and setting it in his trencher beside his healthy serving of pork.
    â€œWe will eat.” He tore off a piece of bread from a loaf that sat before him and brought the piece close to his mouth. “Then we will talk about why you have truly come to see me.”
    AFTER DINNER, ONLY HANNAH and her companions remained seated at the table with Garran.
    The king had introduced them to each member of his “Directorate,” something like a high council, and they met the leaders of the order, Sepan and Hark, along with Garran’s First and Second in Command, Vidar and Carden. The men had made it clear they expected to stay for the discussion with the witches and the D’Danann, but Garran had dismissed all of them.
    Now just two guards were positioned to either side of the door inside the room, and two on each side of the door in the great hall.
    The dishes had been swept away and all that was left behind on the smooth, clean table were tankards of mead that had been placed in front of each person.
    Garran leaned back in his chair in a casual pose, his elbow resting on one arm of the chair while his free hand stroked his chin. No longer did Hannah see the teasing light that had been in his liquid silver eyes, but the seriousness of a warrior, a king.
    â€œYou have come once again to seek the aid of the Drow.” Garran looked to Rhiannon and to each of her three companions in turn. “Tell me why my people should assist you?”
    Rhiannon frowned. Hannah felt a pinch in her gut that told her this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d begun to hope.
    Hannah thought it best to speak first and start with the urgency of their situation. “Ceithlenn has killed thousands in
our city,” she said. “Somehow the goddess collects their souls and the souls make her stronger—strong enough that she was able to bring her husband from Underworld.”
    Astonishment showed on Garran’s face. “Balor? In your San Francisco Otherworld. At this moment?”
    Rhiannon nodded and gripped her tankard in both hands. “The god is searching for his eye. Darkwolf still wears the eye on a chain around his neck, and if Balor gets a hold of it …”
    â€œAll who stand in his way will perish,” Garran said in a flat tone.
    â€œThat’s why we need your assistance.” Hannah relaxed her hands when she realized she was clenching them on the tabletop. “We can’t do it alone.”
    Rhiannon leaned forward in her chair and pushed her mead out of her way. “There are only a handful of us—the D’Anu witches, what D’Danann warriors the Chieftains will give us, and the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces.”
    â€œBut this matter does not concern us.” Garran’s voice remained calm and Hannah’s temper rose in a slow burn. “Balor is not in Otherworld,” he added before taking a drink of his mead.
    Rhiannon’s face turned nearly scarlet and her scars stood out against her cheek. “Don’t you care about me and those I love? You’re supposed to be my father. Won’t you help your own daughter?”
    As he studied Rhiannon, Garran said softly, “ I would.” Then he raised his voice