Because he had been part of the events in January, he was familiar with the geography. He knew exactly the moment when he flew over the Wood.

He had been expecting to find the area still mostly deadened by fire damage. Instead, to his surprise, he saw that much of the debris had been cleared away. In its place, he sensed a new wild Woodland presence.

The new growth covered a massive area. It wasn’t nearly as large as the previous Wood had been, and he didn’t think it was sentient.

At least, not yet. It was too young for that.

But it was burgeoning with rich, abundant life, and it was indisputable evidence of a strong, positive, restorative force.

The Lady of the Wood had in no way been idle or incapacitated over the last six months.

The gryphon did not know how to cry, but the man who lived inside the Wyr beast felt inexpressibly moved and fiercely relieved.

Passing over the heart of the Elven home at high altitude, he saw firelight dotting the area. Even though it was the early hours of the morning, a few people were awake.

The old, sentient Wood no longer acted as guardian over the Elven home. They would feel that vulnerability keenly and keep watch through the night. At least, he knew he would if he were in their shoes.

He arrowed away until he reached a bluff beside the shoreline. There, he landed, changed into his human form once again and walked along the edge of the Wood. Locating a likely spot on the beach, he descended to lean his back against a boulder, and stare over the dark ocean at foam-capped waves.

Where was she sleeping? Had she taken other lovers?

Something deep in his chest twisted at the thought, although he couldn’t blame her if she had. Two hundred years was a long time, even for those as long lived as the Elder Races.

He had burned for her, but that didn’t mean she had burned for him.

He had lain awake countless nights, reliving over and over every detail of their too-brief lovemaking. The scent of her hair. The taste of her soft nipple against his tongue. The look in her eyes and arch of her body as she orgasmed.

But that didn’t mean she had.

He had longed to talk to her, many times over the years, just simply talk, as one would to a treasured friend.

And yet, that didn’t mean she had.

At times, he thought falling in love must be the loneliest experience in the world.

Truthfully, he no longer knew if he was in love with her, or if he was merely ensnared by the luminous memory of that long ago experience. Part of him felt frozen in time, trapped by a cruel enchanter.

Yet, if he had truly mated with her, he would have died long ago. They hadn’t had time for his instinct to mate to solidify irrevocably in his bones.

He needed to find out what he still felt for her, but more than that, he was grimly set to endure whatever might come. Life was complicated and messy. Often it didn’t offer resolutions or answers to questions.

Restlessly, he shifted, digging the heel of one boot in the sand. He would wait until dawn, and then he would call Linwe again.

He couldn’t fault the young Elf for her dogged protectiveness of her mistress, but Linwe was not yet forty – she was very young for an Elf, and hotheaded, and at the moment, he couldn’t help but wish that Alanna and Lianne were still Bel’s attendants.

While they only knew a small fraction of what had occurred in 1815, it would have been enough for them to find ways to connect him to Bel, not erect barriers. But last he heard, Alanna had been killed in March, and Lianne had moved to a position of command in the Elven warriors.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Having time to brood was never a good thing. The most effective coping mechanism he had found over the last two centuries was to keep so busy he didn’t have time to dwell on matters he couldn’t change.

Right now, the most important objective was to kill Malphas and release Ferion from the shackle of the Djinn’s control once and for all – for Ferion’s sake, for Beluviel’s, and for the sake of the Elven demesne itself.

Otherwise, the Djinn’s poison would seep slowly through the Elven demesne until his corrupt influence spread out to darken the rest of the world.

Bel woke from a sound sleep.

She stared at the dark ceiling of her bedroom while listening to the quiet sounds of the Elven demesne at night. Her rooms were located in one of the most attractive areas of the main Elven abode, overlooking the river.

Just outside her living area, a spacious balcony hung over the river itself, where she often sat to gaze at the water, or watch the trees as they changed through the seasons. Sitting on the balcony and immersing herself in the scene was the only thing that gave her peace anymore.

The soft, soothing sounds of the outside waterfall played constantly along the edge of her awareness.

That wasn’t what had awakened her.

Her sensitive hearing picked up other sounds, as the few people who were awake moved and talked quietly in the area.

She couldn’t hear what they said. Their murmuring voices were too faint and ran along the background of her consciousness, rather like the sound of the river.

Everything sounded just as it should, completely normal.

Shoving back the bedcovers, she pulled on her robe and went out on the balcony. The cool night air brushed the last cobwebs of sleep from her mind.

Something had awakened her. She cast her awareness out, searching for a hint of the malevolent presence that had preyed on her son so long ago. She never stopped watching or listening for Malphas.

She couldn’t find any evidence of the Djinn, but someone or something had walked in her young, vulnerable Wood. Someone who was not Elven, or human. She was quite familiar with the noisy psychic footprint of humans.

The tiny, rudimentary spirit of her new Wood was convinced that nothing was untoward. The only creatures that had passed through it were wild ones, both small and very large…