Then he forgot about the other woman as Bel turned to face him.
Moving with care, he reached for the hood, pulled it over her head and ran his gaze down her slim figure. She asked, “What do you think? Will it do?”
The cloak was well made and warm. It was also a plain and discreet black, and it covered her face and form completely. With her face tilted up to his, he could make out her shadowed eyes, a hint of angled cheekbone, and the tilt to her nose, but someone standing a short distance to either side of him wouldn’t be able to see anything.
But the cloak did absolutely nothing to disguise either her physical scent or her elegant, distinctive Power.
He told her in perfect honesty, “It might hide your identity from a casual observer, but it won’t hide anything from someone who knows you, or who is sensitive to Power. And it won’t do a thing to stop a Wyr who might catch your scent.”
There was a slight pause, as she absorbed his words. “Well,” she said heavily, “it will have to do.” From within the depth of the hood, she seemed to search his gaze. “Will you still accompany me?”
“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave you now for the world.”
As he offered his arm to her again, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they strode for the nearest exit.
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.
Only then did he speak aloud. “An addiction to gambling can be every bit as serious as any other kind of addiction,” he said. “How long has he been having the problem?”
“It began several years ago.” Although she kept her tone low, Bel spoke aloud as well. She paused. “That’s not exactly true. I’m not quite sure how long ago it might have started. It was several years ago when I first noticed how often he gambled, but he always seemed to be in control of it.”
“People who have a problem with drinking spirits often disguise how much they drink,” he said.
Under his arm, her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “And gaming is a pastime so many people indulge in, I didn’t really think anything of it, until he came to me the first time with a debt he couldn’t pay. He said he made a mistake and lost his head. He swore it would never happen again, so I paid the debt for him.”
As he listened, he watched for a quiet side street or private park where he might be able to shapeshift hidden from casual sight. While the weather was inclement, it was still winter solstice, the night that masques were celebrated all throughout the Elder Races.
Not everyone was lucky enough to get an invitation to King Oberon’s event, and the streets were busier than they might otherwise have been. Drunken, cheerful groups passed them more than once, and a solitary, cheap, gaudy mask lay abandoned on the cobblestones.
When she fell silent, he said, “I think I can see where this is going. Even though Ferion promised, he didn’t really stop. Did he?”
He felt rather than saw her shake her head within the depths of the hood. “I thought he had. I truly didn’t think any more
of it. Mistakes happen, and in some ways, Ferion has had a more challenging life than most.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She sighed. “He is his father’s heir and expected to remain close and available, knowledgeable on demesne affairs but not too involved. Calondir guards his authority jealously, and he won’t let Ferion assume too much responsibility.”
He frowned. “That sounds frustrating.”
“It is, and we are so long lived as a race, he won’t ever inherit unless an accident takes his father’s life. Every time he has tried to develop a sense of purpose for himself, it has become skewed and stunted by this very narrow role he’s supposed to fulfill.”
Graydon had never witnessed the complications of family life up close. Children were rare in the Elder Races. While he loved them, as an unmated sentinel, he didn’t get much occasion to spend time with any. The situation Bel described had truly never occurred to him.
Shaking his head, he muttered, “I had no idea.”
“Ferion lives in a particularly difficult cage. At times, he doesn’t handle it well. He has bouts of drinking and melancholia too.” She drew in a sharp breath. “It’s too easy to confide in you. I know you’ve already promised you would be discreet, but please don’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” he said, tightening his arm in reassurance. “I wouldn’t.”
“Thank you,” she told him. “So, yes, I thought everything was taken care of, but sometime later, he accumulated another debt he couldn’t pay. That time, we argued about it. He promised it wouldn’t happen again. Even though I had doubts, I paid the bill. Again.”
“Let me guess,” he said quietly. “Calondir doesn’t know any of this.”
She went silent again for a long moment. Through his arm still across her shoulders, he could feel the tension gripping her slender body.
“No,” she responded at last. “Calondir doesn’t know, and he can’t know.” When he didn’t reply, she said stiffly, “There are reasons.”
Why couldn’t Calondir know? He wanted to ask, but it was evident she was already having difficulty with telling her story, and it wasn’t his place to pry. He also didn’t want to cause her any discomfort so that she shut down and possibly turned him away.
“I believe you,” he told her. His truthsense was highly developed, and he could hear the truth in every word she spoke.
Finally, as they came to the mouth of an alleyway, he found what he was looking for. Pausing, he checked it. Save for a couple of cats rustling through some rubbish, the alley was empty. It was also large enough to accommodate him in his gryphon form.
After one quick glance around them, he let his arm slide from her shoulders, stepped into the alley and shapeshifted.
FOUR
When Graydon strode into the alley, Bel thought she knew what to expect. She had been around Wyr many times, and she had seen several in flight before. On occasion, ancient memories of Dragos flying overhead in his Wyr form still gave her nightmares.
None of that prepared her for the sheer physical impact of watching Graydon’s human form flicker and change, to be replaced by an immense, majestic creature. With a panicked yowl, the two alley cats fled.
The gryphon standing in front of her melded eagle and lion together so seamlessly, she knew it was the most natural thing in the world, and yet it was so strange, she had to stare.
She had expected he would be large. She hadn’t realized he would be quite so huge. His gigantic lion’s body was heavy with powerful muscle, the feline shape both masculine and deadly. Immense bronze wings were folded tight against his back, the tips of the great feathers brushing against the brick wall at the end of the alley.
She glanced down at one of his paws. It was easily twice the size of a large serving platter. The hidden claws sheathed by that paw had to be as long as her hand.
Lost in wonder, her feet began to move of their own volition and drew her closer to him. His sleek eagle’s head bent, and he watched her with one immense golden eye. His beak had a deadly curve at the end, as sharp as a scimitar.
Even though his visage was naturally fierce, he seemed to be watching her with a mild, uncertain expression, almost as if he were . . . self-conscious?
For some reason, she thought of the indifferent cut of his waistcoat, and the arrangement of his cravat that had managed to achieve a state of adequacy. Again, she felt the urge to pat him.
Raising one hand, she hesitated. “Is it all right if I touch you?”
The gryphon nodded in silence.
Slowly, she let her hand trail along the sleek feathers that cloaked his neck. When she reached the area where the feathers turned to fur, she brushed the thick, tawny fur covering his powerful breastbone.
It was slightly damp from the light drizzle. Luxuriating in its richness, she sank her fingers into the fur until she touched his skin. His body threw off heat like a furnace.
“I wish I could see you in better lighting,” she told him. “Even here in the shadows, you’re one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.”
The gryphon bent its head even further, until it very gently touched its beak to her shoulder. He could decapitate her with a single snap, yet it never occurred to her to be afraid.
Graydon’s deep, telepathic voice sounded in her head. Thank you. Do you think you’ll be able to climb onto my back?
He was helping her out of the pure goodness of his big, generous heart. She would not scorn such kindness by snorting.
Instead, she retreated several yards, gathered the skirt of her cloak and gown in one hand, and raced toward him. Even though his shoulders were the same height as her head, she gathered her body into a gracefully powerful leap.
As she settled into place just behind his neck, he chuckled. I expect you’re a talented rider, but I need to warn you, this won’t be the same as riding a horse. The beat of my wings has an entirely different rhythm than a horse’s gait. When I launch, I’ll do it from a standstill. Again, it won’t be anything like jumping a fence. You also might experience vertigo, as we’ll be high in the air. If you find you’re having trouble for any reason, be sure to tell me.
“I will.” Her promise came out breathless.
She was worried about Ferion, and very angry at him, and she felt as if she had come to her wit’s end in trying to figure out how to help him with his problem. Yet suddenly, in the midst of all that, she was more excited than she could remember being in a very long time.
And more than a little nervous too.
She thought she would be okay with flight. It seemed like something she might love desperately, but that was a created scenario in her head.
This was reality. For all she knew, she might be overcome with the vertigo he mentioned and not able to keep her seat. She gripped him tightly with her knees.
This was . . .
In a classic feline move she had seen before in hundreds of barn cats, the gryphon crouched, tail lashing. Then he leapt.
The surge of power between her legs was incredible. The world fell away.
He was too big, too heavy. He shouldn’t have been able to do it, but as he cleared the restriction of the alleyway, his massive wings snapped open and hammered down, once, twice, and then again. Each time, he lunged higher.
Almost before she realized it, they were soaring over rooftops, and oh my gods, the view of London from the air was utterly breathtaking.
The sharp wind caught at the edges of her cloak, and moody clouds wreathed the pale smile of a new moon. Sparks of lights lit the night-darkened city. Even from where they were, she could feel the concentration of Power emanating from Vauxhall.
Incredulous laughter spilled out. She realized she was shaking like a leaf and clamped down harder on him.
Are you all right? the gryphon asked.
“I’m absolutely splendid!” sh
e shouted.
There was a smile in his mental voice. Not dizzy or nauseated?
“Not in the slightest!” Overcome with delight, she pointed then realized he couldn’t see her. “Look at the Thames. It looks like a huge shining ribbon, or maybe a snake. I wish we could see the stars. Graydon, this is glorious!”
He laughed gently and banked, and the entire panoramic landscape spun below her. I’m not sure of the exact address, but Malfeasance is somewhere on the street below. We’ll have to walk the length to find it.
Disappointment pulsed. Their flight had only just begun, and the experience was so joyous, she didn’t want it to end. “We can’t be there already.”
She had a sudden, passionate desire to forget about all her troubles and leave them behind.
To tell him to keep flying. Keep flying and never stop.
Traveling by flight is quite a bit faster than it would be if we had to contend with the traffic in the streets, he said. It’s also much more direct. Hold on.
His prosaic words grounded her back into her body. He wheeled in great circles, so that they descended at a slow, careful pace. She sensed he did so for her sake, not for his. She had seen how eagles could plummet when they were in search of prey, and how cats could pounce with breathtaking speed. He embodied the best qualities of both creatures.
After coasting a short distance, he landed behind a derelict, dark building, in another alleyway. Her legs shook so badly when she slid to the ground, she had to lean against him before she could stand on her own. He held steady, with no sign of impatience, until she moved away.
When she turned to face him, he had already shapeshifted back into a man. Without a word, he offered his arm to her again. After pulling the hood over her head once more, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they stepped onto the street.
Bel had never explored this part of the city. She saw that she hadn’t missed much. An acrid stench came from piles of refuse, while prostitutes plied a busy trade and raucous laughter spilled from taverns. Street toughs watched passersby with sharp smiles and predatory eyes.