“Go on,” Everlayne prompted. “I don’t know, eighteen hundred years old?” “Not bad. He’s one thousand seven hundred and thirty years old.” “One thousand seven hundred and thirty-three,” came a deep voice. Adrenaline exploded through my veins, shocking my system so badly that I nearly toppled sideways out of my seat. I twisted around, and there stood Kingfisher in a recessed reading alcove, bathed in shadows.
Okay, i am almost charmed
