Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

“Ferion,” Graydon said. “What if Malphas ordered you to hurt Beluviel?”


Ferion’s arms loosened from around her, and he stepped back. His expression turned tender and trapped at once. He whispered, “I would do everything in my power to fight it.”

“Yet, you can’t swear for certain that you wouldn’t do it. Just like the first time.”

The first time, when he had choked Bel because Malphas had ordered him to. Silence again, weighted and toxic with everything left unsaid.

Ferion turned away. “I would have to fight anyone who tried to stop me from doing what I was ordered to do, but then I’m sure you remember that. It doesn’t mean I would have to win. I can always be killed.”

“Don’t say that,” she said between her teeth.

When he glanced at her, the frozen, tight lines of his face softened.

He said, “I’ve been living for two hundred years as both hostage and slave, all because I couldn’t control myself when I really needed to. It doesn’t matter if I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter if I grew up a hell of a lot and learned my lesson, or if I would die before I ever did it again. Every time I think this situation can’t go on or get any worse, somehow it does. So far Malphas hasn’t forced me to do anything catastrophic. It’s been the small things, the mean, sneaky things that keep me from sleeping and eat at my soul.”

“You never said anything,” she murmured, stricken.

His gaze turned wry. “What could I have said? Anything would have made you feel worse, more trapped. I love you too much to put you through that. But now that I’ve become the High Lord, and the Elven demesne has stabilized, we all know the situation has changed.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Graydon asked.

Ferion’s reply was immediate. “I take responsibility. Because of my addiction, people have been hurt, and I would pay any price to bring this hell to an end. So I want you both to do what you have to do to end this, and I will have no choice but to do what I must. And I want you to know that whatever happens, you have my blessing.”

Graydon’s immobility caught her attention. He watched Ferion, his face expressionless, and somehow that frightened her more than anything.

As she watched, his demeanor shifted. His expression became mild and innocuous. Even his body language changed.

“I don’t really catch your drift, buddy,” he said. He rolled his broad shoulders in an easygoing shrug. “I just stopped by to say hey to Bel. You know, two old friends taking a few minutes to play catch-up.”

As Ferion turned to stare at him, Graydon told him in a quiet voice, “We haven’t abandoned you, son, and we haven’t broken any bargains. We won’t, either. Aside from the fact that you know you can trust your mother, you have my word on that.”

An expression crossed Ferion’s face, one that Bel hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was vulnerable, even hopeful. He whispered, “Thank you. Please don’t let me do anything to hurt the Elven demesne or my mother.”

“Like I said, there’s no reason for us to go there.” Graydon gave him an easy smile. Even to Bel’s hypersensitive hearing, every word he said sounded sincere. She could fudge and tell a certain number of untruths while sounding sincere, but Graydon’s talent for lying had hers beat. “Even if you’ve been ordered to keep an eye on her, she’s not doing anything but normal activities. Seeing friends and attending parties. You know, getting a breath of fresh air after a hard six months of work. Isn’t that right, Bel?”

Halfway through, she realized what Graydon was doing. He was feeding Ferion the kind of information that the other man could give to Malphas.

It didn’t matter what Ferion personally thought of what Graydon was telling him. If pressed, he would be able to repeat exactly what Graydon had said, and he would be able to claim it sounded like the truth.

She could tell when Ferion realized it as well. A slight smile spread across his features. “With that kind of reassurance, perhaps I can ease up on the number of guards I’ve set to watch over her.” He met her gaze. “Linwe can report to me.”

“Of course she can,” said Bel. She could tell the younger woman to report only simple, innocent activities and to cover for her when she might disappear. Poor Linwe would be very confused, but she would comply. “It will be a remarkably boring task, I assure you.”

Her son inclined his head. “Very well.”