Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

If she did nothing, Ferion might very well remain under Malphas’s control, which would be disastrous for both him and the Elven demesne.

Things couldn’t continue the way they were, but moving forward felt full of danger and uncertainty. Graydon was talking about going to war against one of the most dangerous creatures on earth, a first-generation Djinn.

Yet if she went to New York, Graydon would be there.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. The expression in his shadowed gaze made all her uncertainty vanish.

She said, “I’ll come.”

His body tightened. “When?”

She lifted her shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “As soon as I possibly can. The flight itself is a short one. Perhaps by tomorrow night? It will look too strange if I try to come by myself, so I’ll have to bring at least one guard. I can say that since I’m the only one going, with probably Linwe, there won’t be any need to send staff to open up the Elven residence in the city.”

That strategy would also prevent Ferion from keeping watch on her through house attendants. She hated that she had thought of that, or that it was a realistic danger.

Her plan solidified in her mind. She told him, “I’ll stay at a hotel, if I can get a room or a suite at this late date.”

“I’ll make sure you get a suite,” he promised. “New York gets so crowded around the time of the masque, we always keep a few suites in reserve at some of the best hotels, to cover unexpected contingencies. I can send you an email with the reservation.”

That made things significantly easier. “And I’ll contact you once I arrive.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll expect to hear from you by tomorrow night.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to say good-bye,” he muttered. “As stupid as it sounds, I feel superstitious about letting you out of my sight right now.”

“I know what you mean. I feel the same way.” She threw her arms around his neck.

He hugged her tight. Bel, he said telepathically. I want you to know, I would be doing this for Ferion’s sake, regardless of anything else.

For some reason, that brought tears to her eyes. He really was such a good man. Stroking his hair, she told him, I believe you.

A lot has changed over the last two hundred years. When we find our way free of this, all I want is the chance for you and me to figure out what we might mean to each other. His arms tightened. Okay?

I would really love that, Graydon, she told him wistfully.

With obvious reluctance, he released her. Until tomorrow night.

She rested her hand on his chest and promised, See you soon.

Watching her, he backed up a few steps. Then he turned, shapeshifted into the gryphon and leaped into the air. He was only visible for a few moments, then his form rippled and faded from sight as his cloaking spell took hold.

Gods. To see the gryphon again, after all these years. He was glorious. Watching him soar like that, with such power and grace . . . She felt unbelievably heavy, like a lump of clay forever trapped on earth, and she longed to ride in the air with him again.

Holding her breath, she stared up at the night sky for long moments after he had disappeared.

Finally accepting that he was truly gone, she turned and climbed the bluff. As she walked along the path on the journey home, she braced herself for the next steps.

She had to sell this story like it was really true, and that wouldn’t be easy. Ferion’s truthsense was enhanced by the fact that he had known her for a very long time.

? ? ?

Graydon kept his speed strong all the way back to New York. He had a lot to do in a short amount of time. As he traveled north, he entered the winter storm system again.

Snow swirled around him for the last half hour of his flight. By the time he landed, he had flown well over a thousand miles, and a good portion of that had been in inclement weather. He was tired and more than ready for a bucket of hot coffee and a hot, filling meal.

If he showed up at the Tower, he could help himself to the copious amounts of food in the cafeteria, but he would never get a moment’s peace. People would approach him with their problems, and he would spend all his time explaining that he was on personal leave.

Instead of going to the Tower, he stopped at Ruby’s Diner, a local restaurant that had been a favorite of his for the last thirty years. He ordered two steaks, half a dozen eggs, and a double helping of biscuits and gravy, along with coffee. The food was hearty, and the coffee was so strong it could put a dead man back on his feet again.

Outside the diner’s plate-glass windows, large, fluffy flakes of snow swirled. Several of the customers were either Christmas shoppers or masquegoers. The snowstorm seemed to foster a sense of camaraderie. Laughter and cheerful conversation filled the diner.