Blood pounded through his veins as his body demanded a fight. He held onto his self-control by a thread.

He couldn’t hope to win in a fight against Malphas, not alone. At best, he could hold his own. He could even probably drive the Djinn away, but Bel and Ferion were much more vulnerable. If it came to outright battle, they might become casualties, and that possibility was unacceptable.

So he did the only thing he could. He held himself in check. By the glitter in Malphas’s diamond eyes¸ he could tell that the Djinn knew he held the upper hand.

Malphas smiled. “The Djinn make connections to those people with whom they strike bargains.”

Bel rose to her feet, her posture tense and defensive, and her beautiful features drawn. All her tentative happiness from earlier had vanished. “You’re not talking about social connections. You mean something more literal.”

“Yes, I mean real, psychic connections. Normally what a Djinn creates is nothing more than a sensitivity, or an awareness, so that the Djinn can hear if that person summons them. Or they might need to check to make sure a bargain is being fulfilled.” Malphas watched as Ferion thrust to his feet. His expression was almost sensual with satisfaction. “I’ve learned how to manipulate connections into something stronger and deeper.”

Bel gripped Graydon’s arm. She said telepathically, There’s something buried deep in Ferion. It’s smudged and dark like a shadow. I saw it a few moments ago when I scanned him to try to see why he had stopped breathing.

Do you think you can remove it? he asked.

She shook her head. It’s completely foreign to me. I’m not even sure what it is, or how much damage it might do to him if I tried anything.

Ferion said, “He can force me to do things. I can’t control myself.”

“Precisely.” Malphas crossed over the room to sit in the armchair again. “In order to pay his debt, Ferion has sold himself to me.”

Bel rounded on the Djinn with such a feral expression on her face, she could have been a match for any Wyr. “Remove it.”

“Not on your life.” Malphas’s voice had turned soft and deadly. “For a very long time now, I’ve wanted to have a lien on the soul of a highly placed individual in a powerful demesne. Having one on the heir of the High Elven Lord is a dream come true.”

“None of the demesnes will tolerate this kind of assault,” Graydon snarled. “When word gets out, it won’t matter if you’re abiding by Djinn law. Dragos won’t tolerate it.”

“Now we come to the heart of the matter.” Malphas laced his fingers together and crossed his legs. “Here are the cards that I hold – I own one beloved son and Elven heir, and a certain knowledge of an affair between two people that would never be sanctioned if it became public.”

Here it comes, Graydon thought. He met Bel’s gaze again. He could see in her darkening expression the knowledge of a gulf widening between them.

The Djinn continued, “Here are the cards that you hold – you know what can happen if somebody gambles with me and gets in over his head, and what I can do to them in retaliation. Also, let’s face it, if you drum up enough outrage over Ferion, you could very well gather a hunting party of sufficient strength to kill me. Does this accurately sum up the situation?”

“You can remove any uncertainty in that,” Graydon bit out. “We will hunt you down and destroy you.”

The Djinn heaved a sigh. “Oh, very well, I’ll grant you that. But could you locate and destroy me before I kill Ferion?”

Bel’s face went chalk white. She whispered, “No.”

“That’s correct.” Malphas’s reply was filled with false gentleness. “No, you couldn’t. So then the real question becomes, how much is Ferion’s life worth to you? What will you pay in order to keep him safe? Because I will tell you right now, owning the lien on one eternal Elven soul – and the heir to the South Carolina demesne at that – means a very great deal to me.”

“He can’t hold me hostage if I’m not alive,” Ferion whispered. He stared at Bel, clenched and unpredictable, his gaze burning in the dark sockets of his white face.

A quiet sound came out of Bel, as if her own soul were being wrenched out of her.

“You will not commit suicide,” Malphas told him. “Neither by direct action, nor passively by searching for a way to be killed in battle.”

Graydon turned his entire focus on the Djinn. He growled, “What do you want?”

The Djinn had been leading them to this very place, because as soon as he heard Graydon’s question, he nodded.

“I propose a bargain,” he said. “A life for a life. I will not force Ferion to do anything against his will, and much as I am tempted to, I will say nothing about your touching scene in the woods. In return, you will leave me and my business interests alone. You’ll say nothing to anyone about what has occurred, nor will you do anything about what you’ve learned here.” Malice crept back into his handsome features. “And you and Beluviel will never tryst again.”

Renewed rage and denial exploded in Graydon’s body. He started forward. This time it was Bel who grabbed at his arm.

He growled, “Like hell we won’t.”

Malphas lifted one shoulder. “I understand we live in a small world. You’ll see each other at masques and meetings. You might converse at soirees, or share a dance, and if you really must, you can always gaze soulfully into each other’s eyes. But you will never be together again. Not as lovers. Not as a partnership. Those are my terms.”

Ferion snapped, “This is between you and me. As you so eloquently pointed out, I’m the one who created this mess – and I’m responsible for the debt. Leave them out of this!”

“Oh, no,” Malphas replied. Without appearing to move he was suddenly standing on his feet. While he faced the three of them, his unblinking, shining diamond eyes remained fixed on Graydon. “You took it upon yourself to meddle in my affairs. Now Malfeasance has been shut down. The building has been razed to the ground.”