Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

She switched back to telepathy. Perhaps once we’re out of the Gardens, we’ll be able to hire a hansom. I don’t want to use any of our carriages.

A medusa with an Orc guard approached. He waited until they had walked past the Demonkind pair before he replied, If you think you can stomach a ride through the air, I can shapeshift and carry you. It would be more discreet than renting a hansom. It would also get us to Malfeasance much faster, but I’m told flying isn’t to everybody’s taste.

The opening of her hood turned toward him, and her hand tightened. She replied, I think that would be absolutely marvelous. Thank you.

A glow of warmth spread through him. I could shapeshift now and attempt to cloak it, but there are so many creatures present that have either a great deal of Power, or sensitivity to it. I would rather not risk exposing you.

No, you’re quite right to be careful. Her hood shifted as she turned to look ahead. Almost as if speaking to herself, she continued, I would love to fly. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have that sense of freedom.

A wistful note in her voice tugged at something deep inside him. He replied, I couldn’t conceive of living without it. I can’t imagine being forever grounded.

No, I don’t suppose you can.

They were almost at the gate.

He really didn’t want to say what he was about to say. In fact, he had to fight himself to say anything at all.

Quietly, he told her, If you could trust me enough with the reason why you need to go to Malfeasance, I could make the trip on your behalf. It would save you the risk of possible exposure. No one need ever know.

Calondir, he meant. Calondir need never know.

Because, while Bel had not explicitly said so in his hearing, it had become abundantly clear to Graydon that she didn’t want Calondir to know anything of what was happening.

Having once acknowledged that truth, he dug further inside himself, trying to ascertain how he felt about keeping a secret from Bel’s husband.

All he could remember was the scene beside the dance floor, with Calondir dancing and laughing with a costumed woman while just a short distance away, Bel stood tight with suppressed misery.

And, he realized, he was perfectly fine with keeping any number of secrets from Calondir.

Any number of secrets at all.

There were implications in that thought, serious ones that he needed to consider, but all his focus remained on her. He would have time enough to think things over when he was alone again.

She had paused for so long, he thought she might not answer him.

Then she said softly, Thank you so much for your generous offer, but it isn’t a matter of whether or not I can trust you. This is about someone else, and whether or not he would listen to anything you had to say.

The swiftness of Graydon’s internal reaction was as wild and vicious as any Wyr could turn. Who did she need to see so badly, and why did it matter so that she had to hide it from everybody?

Shocked at himself, he drew in a deep breath and forced his reply to remain mild, without a hint of snarl. Are you sure? I can be persuasive when I put my mind to it.

I’m sure, she told him. I’m probably the only person he will listen to, so I have to confront him in person. You see, my son has developed a serious problem.

As fast as he had reacted, his strange, unruly emotions morphed into surprise. Whatever starburst of nonsense had just exploded in his brain, he hadn’t considered anything like this.

Malfeasance did not just offer games of chance, which was part of its notoriety. Other vices could be purchased, including sex and drugs. If one had enough money, or so Graydon had heard, one could purchase anything one wanted, no matter how unsavory.

He could not imagine that Ferion would need to resort to a place like Malfeasance for sex. The handsome, charming Elven heir could have his pick of any number of sexual partners for free, yet there was no accounting for taste.

Another possibility occurred to him. He asked, Don’t tell me he’s developed an opium addiction?

No, she replied grimly. Games of chance are his vice. No matter how many times he has promised that he will quit, he cannot seem to control himself.

They had reached the gate. As they passed through to the London street outside, the frigid air caused by the Daoine Sidhe’s magical influence warmed. The snowfall stopped, to be replaced by a steady, cold drizzle.

Falling silent, they picked their way through the crowds of people and carriages around the entryway.

Hoping to disguise Bel’s presence, Graydon put his arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side. If anyone were paying attention, perhaps his Wyr scent and signature presence would confuse them enough they would not be able to identify her.

Bel neither objected nor questioned his move. Once away from the thick of the crowd, he picked up the pace until they were striding swiftly away.