The more she heard, the more ill she felt. I don’t have any words.

While he’d been talking, he had climbed so steeply into the air, within a matter of a few moments she could see for miles. Any other time, she would have been enchanted by the view of the picturesque English countryside crowned with the new light of day. Winter colors wreathed the land in browns, golds and oranges, and trees rose out of a low hanging mist.

Almost immediately, a manor came into view. Just as the stable boy had described, it sat on top of the hill overlooking the town’s mill. She noted bitterly that it was a sprawling, palatial-looking residence. Owning a gambling hell appeared to have paid high dividends for the Djinn.

We’re almost out of time, Graydon said as he descended. Listen – Malphas can’t be certain that we were behind whatever happened to Malfeasance.

You paid for the children, she said numbly. Then Weston came to take them away.

Yes, but he can’t know anything for sure. Weston and I spoke telepathically. I didn’t say a word to anyone else. Remember that. Let’s not give him more fuel for his anger. We’ll get Ferion, and then we’ll get out.

I understand. Just get me down there!

She leaped from his back before all the gryphon’s paws fully touched the earth. As she ran to the front doors, Graydon shapeshifted and raced after her. His Power roiled as it had back at the gaming hell, with a towering fury.

The large, double oak doors stood open. Neither she nor Graydon hesitated. They plunged inside and paused in the great hall.

To her right, through an open doorway, a fire blazed in the fireplace of the front receiving room. Turning by instinct toward the heat and light, she started to sprint forward, only to be brought to an abrupt halt when Graydon gripped her arm. He gave her a grim look of warning.

Her spirit raged at the restraint, even as she recognized the wisdom in his caution. She gave him a curt nod. Together they stepped forward, looking around warily.

The room was decorated with colors that had been in fashion a decade ago. A blue velvet armchair had been positioned strategically by the fireplace, facing the front hall.

Malphas sat in the armchair, legs crossed. His demeanor was as regal as if he sat on a throne. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth, eyelids lowered over piercing, starlike eyes.

Ferion sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. He was beautiful in the way that Elves could be, his lean and graceful frame holding a tensile strength. Long blond hair fell past his shoulders, pulled back from his temples and tied with a strip of leather.

His lean, handsome face was blank, while dark purple shadows like bruises ringed his eyes.

As soon as Bel’s gaze fell on her son, renewed rage and worry swept common sense aside. She tried to rush forward, but Graydon still gripped her arm. His fingers tightened, halting her in midstep.

“Look who has come to visit this morning,” said Malphas. “The adulterers have arrived. Ferion, did you realize your mother has been unfaithful to your father? Faithful… unfaithful… Those words don’t mean anything to me, but I know they matter a great deal to some people.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ferion whispered. His dull gaze met hers. “Mother, I am so sorry —”

“Shut up,” Malphas ordered.

Ferion’s words cut off, as abruptly as if Malphas had stuffed a gag in his mouth.

“You lied,” Graydon growled. “There was no exclusive game here. Nobody’s here except for you and Ferion.”

What did he mean? She glanced around the room again. This time, she noticed other details.

Cobwebs draped in corners of the ceiling. The armchair in which the Djinn sat looked bright and fresh, but the other furniture was dull with dust. On the floor, footsteps clearly showed on the worn, faded carpet.

“Don’t mistake me,” Malphas said. “I can and do lie when it suits me, but I didn’t lie about this. There was an exclusive game. It was with me. Yes, we could have played it in London, or anywhere else, for that matter. I just like to see how hard people will work for it.” He shrugged. “Of course the only people I invite here are the ones who can’t resist the game.”

She gave the Djinn a look filled with loathing, and then dismissed him to concentrate on her son.

“Ferion, never mind what has happened,” she said, struggling to keep the anger from her voice. “We need to leave. We also need to talk, but we can do that away from here.”

“I don’t believe you understand yet why you need to beg,” Malphas said. “So, I’ll show you. Ferion, go to your mother.”

Graydon said telepathically, Bel, be careful. I don’t know what he’s doing.

His words didn’t hold any real meaning for her. They fell far outside the urgency in her mind. As Ferion pushed to his feet and approached, she pulled her arm from Graydon’s grasp and rushed forward.

Malphas said, “Put your hands around her neck and squeeze.”

She had already moved to throw her arms around Ferion when she heard those words. Before she could recoil, Ferion’s hands snaked around her neck. He began to choke her.

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Pressure pounded in her eyes.

Instinct took over. She tried to yank back, but Ferion was extremely strong, and she couldn’t dislodge his hard fingers.

Even as she arched away and attempted to twist out of his hold, snarling filled her ears. A powerful blow slammed into her chest. Graydon drove his big body between them like a battering ram, and through sheer force, he shoved them apart.

Gasping for air, she stumbled back, fell over one end of the sofa and sprawled on the floor. Ferion slammed into the nearby wall.

Two booted feet planted themselves on either side of her head, as Graydon straddled her prone body.