Shadow's End (20 page)

Linwe chattered as she pulled clothes out of suitcases and hung them in the closet.

“I'm so glad you decided to do this,” said the younger woman. “Really, I think getting away for a few days will be wonderfully refreshing. I know you want to keep this visit low-key, but maybe we can slip out to your favorite museums, and attend one or two parties along with the masque. Nothing elaborate. You know, just saying hi to some of your old friends.”

When tragedy had struck the Elves in the spring, Linwe had stripped the cheerful blue color off the tips of her short, layered hair.

Then sometime in November, the color had come back. Now the tips of her hair were neon pink. Bel's gaze followed the pink as it traveled in and out of her closet.

Since she had said good-bye to Graydon and made her way back to the Elven abode, she hadn't been left alone for a moment.

She had walked into the main hall to get some breakfast, where she almost immediately ran into Ferion with two of his senior advisors, Gerend and Imrathon. They invited her to join them for breakfast. Shortly after, Linwe appeared.

With an instinct born of long experience, Bel took her time, pretended she had an appetite and joined in the general conversation. In a natural lull, she said, “I think I've changed my mind about attending the masque this year.”

Naturally, that got everyone's attention, but everything else fell away as she raised her eyes from her meal to meet Ferion's. His gray gaze rested on her thoughtfully, while his face remained impenetrably neutral.

As she regarded him, she thought, I have no idea what you're thinking. I have no idea who you are any longer.

Only this time, instead of the thought causing her mere pain, she had felt a pulse of fear.

The memory from that morning made her swallow hard. Walking over to the phone on the antique desk, she lifted the receiver.

“Yes, my lady?” a pleasant Elven voice said.

She recognized the voice immediately. “Vilael, please send up tea.”

“Right away, my lady,” Vilael promised.

Vilael was one of Ferion's people, and Linwe—Linwe was affectionate and loyal. She was supposed to be Beluviel's, but with the way the younger woman was acting, Bel was almost convinced that Ferion had said something to her.

He could have said something innocuous-sounding, like: I'm worried about her. Keep an eye on her. Let me know what she does and where she goes. We all want my mother to be happy and healthy.

It wouldn't have taken much. And Linwe, the gods love
her passionate heart, would have thrown herself at the assignment wholeheartedly.

When the tea tray arrived, Vilael set it on the antique desk. He gave her a small bow. “I put a few small cakes on the tray, in case you might be hungry, my lady. I know you didn't have any supper, but I thought you might like something to nibble on.”

“Thank you.” She waited for him to leave. Then she turned to Linwe. “You've been with me all day, and you must be tired too. Don't bother with the rest of the clothes.”

“It's no trouble,” Linwe said with a quick smile.

“It is for me,” Bel said quietly. “I'm tired and ready to be alone. Just because I chose not to go down to supper doesn't mean you should skip a meal. Go get a bite to eat, and unpack your own suitcase. I'll take care of the rest of my things, and I'll see you in the morning.”

Linwe's shoulders drooped. “Yes, ma'am.”

She knew the younger Elf loved her and meant no harm. Bel touched her shoulder as she walked past, and the small gesture lifted Linwe's head. Giving Bel a grateful look, she slipped out and shut the door quietly behind her.

Finally, finally Bel was alone. She stretched the stiff muscles in her neck and surreptitiously looked around her bedroom.

Handpicked antiques from all over the world decorated the room, and luxurious bedding adorned her bed. Everything about the room was designed to bring the occupant pleasure and relaxation, but for once, she couldn't enjoy the décor.

She looked carefully at the wainscoting and crown molding in the corners of the ceiling.

Are there any hidden cameras? she wondered. How am I being watched?

Because she knew she was being watched. Somehow.

Since she didn't know how, or from what angle, she still didn't feel secure enough to pull out her cell phone to text Graydon. Perhaps she could slip outside to the gardens and text from there, but she needed for everything she did, every move she made, every expression on her face, to appear entirely normal.

She looked at the tray of food. Could she eat the food? How paranoid should she be?

It wouldn't be poisoned. She was certain of that. Not with anything lethal.

But what if a sedative had been slipped into the tea, or baked into the delicious cakes?

Again, it wouldn't take much, just something innocuous. And it could have been presented in such a way to well-meaning attendants that it would help her relax . . . while the drug would also keep her docile and compliant.

She felt like she was building a conspiracy from nothing. There was no basis for any of her fears, and yet, it was all entirely possible. It could all be true.

Bel,
Graydon's deep, gentle voice sounded in her head.
Are you all right?

Despite her best intentions to remain as normal-looking as possible, she startled. There was no way to recover from that, so she didn't even try.

She walked into her bathroom to splash water on her face and drink fresh water from the running faucet.

She said to Graydon,
You nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here? Where on earth are you?

I'm in the air, circling your building.

She couldn't imagine the kind of tight maneuvering he had to be doing in order to fly close enough so that he could telepathize with her without setting foot on either the roof or the grounds.

Leaning her elbows on the edges of the sink, she hung her head.
I hope you're cloaking yourself hard.

I am, don't worry. Why are you here at the Elven residence? Why didn't you go to the hotel like we had planned, and why haven't you gotten in touch?

Things didn't go quite the way we planned.
Taking her time, she dried her face and hands on a towel. The possibility that she was being surveilled even in her own bathroom sent a burst of rage through her. Her hands clenched in the towel.
Ferion insisted on coming with me to New York, and this is literally the first moment I've had to myself since I got back
to the Elven abode this morning. Graydon, I feel like I'm going crazy. I think I'm being watched, but I'm not sure. Everybody has been hovering around me.

There was a pause. Just when she had started to think that he had left telepathic range, he said,
You should trust your gut. If you think you're being watched, you probably are. This is going to be more complicated than we had expected.

Yes. I don't know if Ferion is acting out of concern, or if something else—someone else—is driving him to do all this. Gray, I can't read him anymore, and it might have been out of character enough for me to want to come to New York to spark some kind of trigger.

It didn't help that she hadn't gotten any sleep since she had first awakened in the early hours of the morning. She was exhausted and not at all convinced she was thinking clearly.

He might be acting out of concern,
Graydon said.
But we have to assume otherwise. Do you feel unsafe?

Going back into her bedroom, she pulled the rest of her clothes out of her suitcases and hung them in the walk-in closet.
No, not quite that. I don't think. I don't believe for a moment that Linwe, or almost any of the others, would do anything to hurt me.

But one or two might.

If Ferion ordered them to, they really might.

For the first time, she weighed the value of her life against the value of Ferion's, and she realized that she came up wanting.

Yes, she was prominent in the Elven demesne. Yes, she had social standing outside in the inter-demesne community. None of that came close to holding the power to shape new law and strike inter-demesne agreements, and to carve out policy in the international arena.

How much would it mean to Malphas to maintain control of the Elven High Lord? Would he kill to maintain it?

If both she and Graydon died, their bargain disappeared,
and Malphas could do anything he wanted with Ferion. Anything at all.

She shuddered.

You said “almost,”
Graydon said softly.
You didn't say nobody would hurt you. You said almost nobody would.

There are some Elves who would do anything their Lord commanded
. She added wryly,
Normally, that's a good thing.

I want you out of there,
he growled.

Her suite in the New York Elven residence had a balcony that overlooked a half acre garden, surrounded by a high stone wall. She had insisted upon it. Every opportunity to get into the fresh, open air was important to her.

Abandoning her wardrobe, she went to the balcony doors to throw them open. Snow covered the floor of the balcony, and the bitter December wind whipped into the rooms. The icy shock was like a welcome tonic, shaking loose the tired fog that had begun to take over her thinking.

She stepped outside and looked up at the heavy, overcast sky. She wanted to do so much more than merely talk with Graydon. She needed to look into his eyes, touch his face, wrap her arms around him and hold him tight again.

She said,
Gray, I think you and I might be in danger. Now that Ferion's become Lord of the demesne, his value to Malphas has increased exponentially.

A rush of wind blasted her. She fell back a step, staring as Graydon's cloaking spell fell away, and the boiling air in front of her transformed into his massive human form.

He wore black fatigues, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a black vest. His rough features were set and hard. He looked as he had that terrible morning so long ago, full of icy, unpredictable rage.

“Dear gods,” she breathed. He wasn't supposed to be here. He had just triggered every alarm the Elves had on the property. They had less than a minute before any number of guards burst in on them.

“Come with me now,” he said. His stormy gray eyes were intent, fierce. He held his hand out to her.

Her heart hammered. She couldn't do something so simple and revolutionary, could she?

Just take his hand.

Leap with him into the night.

It would break every expectation anyone had ever had of her, and a wild, desperate part of her wanted to smash every one of them.

Holding his gaze, she put her fingers into his.

“I can't,” she whispered. “We shouldn't.”

“Fuck what we should or shouldn't do,” he told her.

Even as he said it, he started to smile. She could see that he knew how insane he sounded. She stepped closer to him so she could feel the warmth of his presence again wrapping around her like a hug.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” she said. “But we need to ride this out. Remember, standing your ground is not passivity. We might discover something useful.” She looked up at him. “We might save lives.”

He heaved an aggrieved-sounding sigh, but his hand tightened on hers. “I broke your rules,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

A smile broke over her face. He stared at her, his expression arrested. “I am so glad you did,” she told him.

The door to her bedroom slammed open. Linwe, two guards and Ferion burst inside. They all carried weapons. Ferion and one of the guards pointed handguns at Graydon as they strode across the room to the open balcony doors.

Unhurriedly, Graydon folded her hand against his chest. His gentle smile widened, his eyes steady. How could she not want to gaze at him forever?

But she didn't. Instead, she turned as unhurriedly as Graydon to face the quartet of unsettled, angry Elves in the doorway.

“There's no need for alarm,” she said in a quiet, calm voice. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, since she felt anything but quiet and calm. “Please put your weapons down. I'm only getting a visit from an old friend.”

Ferion's and the guard's guns lowered a little.

But, she noticed, they didn't lower the guns very much.
Linwe stared at Ferion, and the other guard's eyes widened with consternation.

“What are you doing here?” Ferion asked Graydon. His voice sounded flat and expressionless, almost as if he were an automaton.

“I'm saying hello to Bel,” Graydon replied. Like Bel, he spoke quietly, without undue aggression, although standing so close to him, she could feel his Power bristle with unseen spikes. She knew he was on a hair trigger, holding his own instincts barely in check. “Do you always bring loaded weapons into your mother's bedroom?”

Ferion bared his teeth in a smile. “I do when there is an intruder. You're trespassing on Elven territory, Wyr.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Bel said. Her fingers tightened on Graydon's. “There's no intruder here. Graydon was passing by, and I invited him to stop for a few minutes.”

“You didn't inform any of the guards this was going to happen.” Ferion gestured, and the guard holstered his gun. He lowered his own Glock but continued to hold it. She might not be able to read him any longer, but his body language was tense.

“It was an impulse decision,” she said gently. “Graydon had only just landed. You showed up more quickly than I could think to call down. I had no idea I was being watched with such care. Thank you for looking out for me.”

Now both guards turned to watch Ferion, while Linwe regarded her with a troubled, baffled expression. Bel could tell that the younger Elf sensed that something was seriously wrong.

Linwe said brightly, “Graydon, it's great to see you! You should have said you were stopping by.”