If he was strong enough, smart enough, if he fought hard enough and tried long enough, he could win through.

Several minutes later, as he escorted Bel away from the dance floor and along a main path, a sense of rightness settled into his bones. They might be mere acquaintances – he had only ever exchanged pleasantries with her and they had never shared a tête-à-tête – but it felt delightful to have her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, and to shorten his stride so that he matched hers.

His enjoyment of her company, in the face of whatever was causing her hardship, seemed as inappropriate as his earlier disappointment. Deliberately, he turned his attention away from the pleasure and focused on other details of his surroundings.

Nearby, a Daoine Sidhe knight stood in the middle of a group of inebriated partygoers. The knight’s identity was cloaked behind a full mask with two faces, one facing front and the other facing backward. The forward-facing face was dark, while the backward-facing face was light.

Graydon recognized the costume. It was Janus, the Roman two-faced god, with one face looking forward into the future, and the other face looking backward into the past.

The mask mirrored too much of what Graydon was thinking and feeling. Unease tried to ripple through his body, but ruthlessly, he shoved it away. He had lived with the second sight for far too long to read omens into everything.

A light breeze brushed against his face, and he caught a hint of the knight’s scent tangled with several others. It was Ashe, Oberon’s oldest and strongest wizard knight. As he watched, Ashe pulled a delicate, fresh orchid out of a woman’s hand muff and handed it to her with a silent bow. The woman squealed with delight.

“I would like to make one thing clear,” Bel said suddenly.

Instantly, his attention snapped back to the pale, set features of her profile. He said, “By all means, please do.”

Her large, dark eyes flashed at him and then away again. Some force of unknown emotion made them sparkle with reflected firelight. “I don’t actually need your help.”

Had she changed her mind? Bemused by another wave of inappropriate disappointment, he murmured, “I see.”

Of course he didn’t see. That was merely one of the things he said when he felt the need to say something instead of remaining silent. He had always found it to be one of the most useful phrases in his repertoire when speaking to members of the fairer sex, who, truthfully, were some of the most mysterious creatures ever created by the gods.

“You’re a convenience,” she whispered. “That’s all. I can handle my issues by myself.”

Ah. He thought he began to get a glimmer. That sounded like worried pride. Sometimes it could be hard to accept help.

“Bel,” he said gently, giving her hand a squeeze. “I never presumed anything different. You can send me away at any point you like, but if my help will halve your trouble or ease your path in any way, I’m honored to be of assistance. What can I do for you?”

She didn’t appear to mind that he had dropped all formality. Her shoulders straightened as she took a deep breath and again gave him a sidelong look.

Then her telepathic voice sounded. If you don’t mind, I would rather not discuss such a sensitive subject aloud.

Caught by surprise, he fell into enchantment. Carrying something of her physical demeanor, her mental voice sounded bright and silvery.

He felt almost as if he had looked up and caught an unexpected glimpse of sunlight flashing on a starling’s wing as it flew overhead. Her telepathic voice was entirely and uniquely her, and she was inside his head.

She seemed to be waiting for something. With a start, he realized she was waiting for his response.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course” belonged alongside “I see” in his repertoire of generic responses. Shaking his head, he amended that to something more meaningful as he switched to telepathy. I mean, of course, telepathy is the best way to keep something private.

I need to go to some place called Malfeasance. Her expression settled into lines of determination. While I could do that on my own – and would, if I had to – it would be easier if I had a male to escort me. If we went together, I could hopefully do what I need to do with a minimum of fuss and attention.

Malfeasance, he repeated. His own mood turned grim. You mean the gaming hell.

She jerked her head in a nod. Yes. Switching to verbal speech, she said, “There’s one of my attendants. Lianne?”

While she had kept her voice quiet, the cloaked Elven woman several yards away turned toward them and approached with quick, light steps. “Yes, my lady.”

Giving his arm a quick squeeze, Bel slipped from his side and stepped forward to meet the other woman. They went silent, looking into each other’s eyes.

Troubled, Graydon glanced around to make sure no one paid them any undue attention. When he was satisfied, he turned his attention back to the women while he considered what little Bel had revealed thus far.

London was littered with social clubs and houses of chance, but Malfeasance was not just any gaming hell. It was located in the most notorious part of London and, Graydon had heard, was run by a pariah Djinn named Malphas.

While the Djinn could take physical shape if they chose, at their essence, they were Powerful creatures of air and fire. Social by nature, they had an elaborate community structure and traded in favors as their form of commerce.

Because of that, keeping their word meant a great deal to the Djinn, except their pariahs were an entirely different kind of creature. As social outcasts, they were not to be trusted to keep their word, yet they were still extremely Powerful, which made them very dangerous.

Why did Bel feel the need to go there, of all places? Did she know that Malfeasance was run by a pariah Djinn?

The Elder Races weren’t like human society, with its unfair and unrealistic restrictions on women. It would have been perfectly acceptable for Bel to walk into Malfeasance on her own, if she chose.