Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

I need to go to some place called Malfeasance. Her expression settled into lines of determination. While I could do that on my own—and would, if I had to—it would be easier if I had a male to escort me. If we went together, I could hopefully do what I need to do with a minimum of fuss and attention.

Malfeasance, he repeated. His own mood turned grim. You mean the gaming hell.

She jerked her head in a nod. Yes. Switching to verbal speech, she said, “There’s one of my attendants. Lianne?”

While she had kept her voice quiet, the cloaked Elven woman several yards away turned toward them and approached with quick, light steps. “Yes, my lady.”

Giving his arm a quick squeeze, Bel slipped from his side and stepped forward to meet the other woman. They went silent, looking into each other’s eyes.

Troubled, Graydon glanced around to make sure no one paid them any undue attention. When he was satisfied, he turned his attention back to the women while he considered what little Bel had revealed thus far.

London was littered with social clubs and houses of chance, but Malfeasance was not just any gaming hell. It was located in the most notorious part of London and, Graydon had heard, was run by a pariah Djinn named Malphas.

While the Djinn could take physical shape if they chose, at their essence, they were Powerful creatures of air and fire. Social by nature, they had an elaborate community structure and traded in favors as their form of commerce.

Because of that, keeping their word meant a great deal to the Djinn, except their pariahs were an entirely different kind of creature. As social outcasts, they were not to be trusted to keep their word, yet they were still extremely Powerful, which made them very dangerous.

Why did Bel feel the need to go there, of all places? Did she know that Malfeasance was run by a pariah Djinn?

The Elder Races weren’t like human society, with its unfair and unrealistic restrictions on women. It would have been perfectly acceptable for Bel to walk into Malfeasance on her own, if she chose.

However, if she did so, as Lady of the South Carolina Elven demesne, she would draw all manner of attention to herself. If she was intent upon a mission of some privacy, she could potentially do more harm than good.

The two women appeared to be arguing. With a sharp downward slice of one hand, Bel brought the conversation to a close. “That’s quite enough, Lianne,” she said aloud. “You and Alana must do as you’re told. I’ll return as soon as I possibly can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lianne said. The younger Elven woman’s frustration was evident in the glowering glance she gave Graydon. Lianne shrugged out of her cloak. “At least take this so you can try to be less conspicuous.”

Bel attempted to refuse it. “You need the protection. It’s too cold for you.”

“Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll find another cloak.”

Stepping forward, Graydon took the cloak from Lianne’s grasp. As both women turned to him, he told Bel, “She’s right. You need the anonymity the cloak will bring you. Let her help you by allowing her to look after herself.”

Bel’s mouth tightened, while Lianne’s resentful frown turned into an expression of grudging approval.

After a moment, Bel gave a short nod. As Graydon held the cloak for her, she turned her back to him so he could settle it onto her shoulders.

She said to the other woman, “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can hopefully come back. Make sure Alanna knows what to do, should Calondir inquire as to my whereabouts. If my absence is discovered before I can return, tell people I felt unwell and had to leave.”

Although Graydon could see acquiescence was difficult for Lianne, the younger woman nodded and turned to hurry away down the path.

Then he forgot about the other woman as Bel turned to face him.

Moving with care, he reached for the hood, pulled it over her head and ran his gaze down her slim figure. She asked, “What do you think? Will it do?”

The cloak was well made and warm. It was also a plain and discreet black, and it covered her face and form completely. With her face tilted up to his, he could make out her shadowed eyes, a hint of angled cheekbone, and the tilt to her nose, but someone standing a short distance to either side of him wouldn’t be able to see anything.

But the cloak did absolutely nothing to disguise either her physical scent or her elegant, distinctive Power.

He told her in perfect honesty, “It might hide your identity from a casual observer, but it won’t hide anything from someone who knows you, or who is sensitive to Power. And it won’t do a thing to stop a Wyr who might catch your scent.”

There was a slight pause, as she absorbed his words. “Well,” she said heavily, “it will have to do.” From within the depth of the hood, she seemed to search his gaze. “Will you still accompany me?”

“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave you now for the world.”

As he offered his arm to her again, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they strode for the nearest exit.