There was only so much perfection a woman could endure before she became bored out of her mind. Which meant that Fallon had been driven to develop a secret life just to keep her sanity.
No one among her people knew that she’d created a hidden chamber where she honed her skill at scrying until she could not only peer into other dimensions, but she could maintain several images at once.
Over the years she’d spent endless hours studying this world, fascinated by the rapidly changing cultures while her own life remained stagnant. She’d even kept up on the current fads and speech patterns, telling herself that she might have the opportunity to visit this world, even when she’d known deep in her heart that her father would never allow her to leave their homeland.
Now she wondered if she’d been mistaken in her belief that the powerful Oracles were both wise and fair leaders for the demon world.
“What would be the point of trancing you?” she demanded in confusion.
Siljar regarded her with an unblinking gaze. It was . . . creepy.
“My guess would be that they want us in the Council Room,” she said.
Fallon forced herself not to wilt beneath that basilisk stare. “Why?”
“It’s the place we gather to share information, and to settle disputes between demons,” Siljar explained, abruptly pacing across the cave with jerky movements. As if she was trying to contain her emotions. “And in extreme cases it’s where we share our power.”
“Do you think it could be a demon who is trying to influence you to judge in his favor?” Cyn abruptly demanded.
“I asked myself the same question. We are currently negotiating a land treaty between the mountain ogres and the woodland sprites.” Siljar gave a sharp shake of her head. Swish. Swish. Her white robe brushed the uneven floor. “But now I fear the plot is far more nefarious.”
“Nefarious?” Cyn demanded.
Siljar nodded. “I think someone is trying to force the Commission to combine their powers to cast a spell.”
Cyn grimaced. “Who or what could have the necessary strength to influence the entire Commission?”
Siljar halted her pacing, regaining her composure to turn and meet the vampire’s troubled frown.
“That’s what I need you to discover.”
“You want me to spy on the Oracles?” Cyn rasped.
“Of course not,” Siljar chided. “I want Fallon to spy on them.”
Fallon’s mouth dropped open, her blood running cold. “Me?”
Siljar lifted a brow. “You are a master at scrying, are you not?”
Oh . . . damn.
“How did you—”
“I know many things, my dear,” Siljar smoothly interrupted.
Fallon shuffled beneath the dark, steady gaze. What else did the tiny demon know about her? Not that Fallon had an exciting enough life to hoard many secrets, but still . . .
Cyn sent her a searching glance, as if surprised that she might have an actual skill.
Jerk.
“What does a master of scrying mean?”
Siljar answered. “Fallon can keep track of the Oracles, even when they travel between dimensions.”
He didn’t look particularly impressed. “How will that help?”
“She can see if there is anyone in particular who has contact with all of the Oracles,” Siljar explained. “Or if there is someplace they travel where they could be manipulated.”
“How close does she have to be to scry?” Cyn demanded of the Oracle.
Fallon muttered a low curse. Had she suddenly become invisible?
“Distance doesn’t matter,” she informed the vampire, not about to be treated as if she couldn’t speak for herself. She’d had enough of that in her father’s court. “The only thing I need is a location to start.”
Without warning, Siljar was moving to stand directly in front of Fallon, her hand reaching to press against her cheek.
“There,” the demon said, searing the image of a vast complex of caves into Fallon’s mind. “You can track them?”
Fallon hissed in shock as the location locked in her mind and she realized just what was expected of her.
Crap. What was wrong with her? She should have told Siljar she couldn’t scry. That she’d made some sort of mistake.
Instead she’d practically boasted about her skill.
As if she was trying to impress . . .
No. She locked out the disturbing thought.
Cyn was an arrogant lug with an oversized ego. Okay, he was gorgeous. And sexy. And his hard, warrior body was lickably delicious. But she certainly wasn’t going to waste her time trying to impress him.
Siljar cleared her throat. “My dear, can you track them?” She repeated her question.
Fallon swallowed a sigh. It was too late to get out of her unwelcomed duty.
Besides, if her talent would help, then she surely had a duty to do whatever she could. “I think so,” she said.
“Good.” Cyn folded his arms over his chest. “Then she can return to fairyland?”
Fallon’s mouth dropped open at his blunt words. “Why, you rude—”
Siljar held up a hand. “No.”
Cyn’s jade green eyes narrowed. “Why not?”