Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

As she stared down into her son’s face, shame darkened his features. He kept his gaze downcast as he whispered, “No.”


“There you have it.” The Djinn shrugged. “By making a series of choices—not just one—he created a situation where he cannot keep his side of a bargain. I might be a pariah, but that single fact adheres to the very heart of Djinn culture. By Djinn law, I am well within my rights to force a satisfactory conclusion to the bargain by taking some kind of recompense.”

“You preyed on him,” she said hoarsely. “He’s a good man with a bad weakness, but instead of recognizing that, you gave him credit to continue to gamble, when you knew he couldn’t pay.”

“Irrelevant,” Malphas told her. “At any point, he could have said no and walked away, paid his debt and been done with the exchange. Now I’ve called in my markers, his debt has come due, and he cannot pay it.”

The situation had gone so far beyond disastrous, implications reverberated in her mind. Malphas knew about her and Graydon. Of all the creatures to discover them, he was the one who actively wished them harm. And Ferion had accrued a debt so significant, Calondir was sure to hear of it. Life as she knew it began to crumble around her ears.

Maybe I can still fix this, she thought. If it’s more than I can pay, I might be able to borrow money in secret. I have friends who might help.

“How much does he owe?” She looked down at Ferion. “How much debt are you in?”

Pushing out of her arms, he sat, moving quite unlike himself, as if he were an aged, frail human. While he was breathing easily again, his face remained gray, his eyes despairing.

He said, “Too much.”

“I believe you still misunderstand,” Malphas said. “You can’t pay his debt for him. Only Ferion can keep his side of the bargain—and he’s done so the only way he can, with the one thing he owns that is of any worth to me. I’ve placed a lien on his soul.”





NINE


What do you mean, you’ve placed ‘a lien on his soul’?” Graydon repeated.

Blood pounded through his veins as his body demanded a fight. He held onto his self-control by a thread.

He couldn’t hope to win in a fight against Malphas, not alone. At best, he could hold his own. He could even probably drive the Djinn away, but Bel and Ferion were much more vulnerable. If it came to outright battle, they might become casualties, and that possibility was unacceptable.

So he did the only thing he could. He held himself in check. By the glitter in Malphas’s diamond eyes, he could tell that the Djinn knew he held the upper hand.

Malphas smiled. “The Djinn make connections to those people with whom they strike bargains.”

Bel rose to her feet, her posture tense and defensive, and her beautiful features drawn. All her tentative happiness from earlier had vanished. “You’re not talking about social connections. You mean something more literal.”

“Yes, I mean real, psychic connections. Normally what a Djinn creates is nothing more than a sensitivity, or an awareness, so that the Djinn can hear if that person summons them. Or they might need to check to make sure a bargain is being fulfilled.” Malphas watched as Ferion thrust to his feet. His expression was almost sensual with satisfaction. “I’ve learned how to manipulate connections into something stronger and deeper.”

Bel gripped Graydon’s arm. She said telepathically, There’s something buried deep in Ferion. It’s smudged and dark like a shadow. I saw it a few moments ago when I scanned him to try to see why he had stopped breathing.

Do you think you can remove it? he asked.

She shook her head. It’s completely foreign to me. I’m not even sure what it is, or how much damage it might do to him if I tried anything.

Ferion said, “He can force me to do things. I can’t control myself.”

“Precisely.” Malphas crossed over the room to sit in the armchair again. “In order to pay his debt, Ferion has sold himself to me.”

Bel rounded on the Djinn with such a feral expression on her face, she could have been a match for any Wyr. “Remove it.”

“Not on your life.” Malphas’s voice had turned soft and deadly. “For a very long time now, I’ve wanted to have a lien on the soul of a highly placed individual in a powerful demesne. Having one on the heir of the High Elven Lord is a dream come true.”

“None of the demesnes will tolerate this kind of assault,” Graydon snarled. “When word gets out, it won’t matter if you’re abiding by Djinn law. Dragos won’t tolerate it.”

“Now we come to the heart of the matter.” Malphas laced his fingers together and crossed his legs. “Here are the cards that I hold—I own one beloved son and Elven heir, and a certain knowledge of an affair between two people that would never be sanctioned if it became public.”