had already shapeshifted back into a man. Without a word, he offered his arm to her again. After pulling the hood over her head oncemore, 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 hadnât 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.
As she took in the scene from the fragile privacy within the cloakâs hood, she had a sudden, deep pang of longing for the fresh, clean air and green scents of her Wood. Her Wood was wild and sentient, and while it wasnât always a safe place for strangers to wander, it was the child of her Power, her hearth and home.
She also noted how a few of the sharp, edgy men eyed her and Graydon. Their gazes lingered on Graydonâs height and bulk, and the men left them alone.
They were fools to only take Graydon into consideration. If she had come here alone, she could have handled them, but that might have indeed brought her unwanted attention, so she was glad she didnât have to.
âThere,â Graydon said suddenly.
The sound of his voice made her jump. This place gnawed at her nerves. âWhat?â
He inclined his head. She looked in the direction of his nod to a plain building that was in much better repair than its neighbors. A single letter M hung above a doorway that was guarded by two hulking Orcs.
She sighed. She hated Orcs.
âI donât understand how he could stomach coming to such a place,â she muttered as they strode toward the building.
Graydon sounded as grim as she felt. âIf heâs caught in the throes of a gambling addiction, then he may not have had much choice. This might be the only place that would run him a line of credit.â
A combination of anger and despair made her clench her teeth. As they grew closer to the building, she switched to telepathy.
I donât know how to help him, and I canât keepbailing him out. Each time the debt grows higher and higher. Sooner or later, heâs going to come to his fatherâs attention.
If that happened, Calondir would react as he always did when he was confronted with a situation that made him angry. When he lost his temper, he could be verbally abusive. Sometimes he lashed out physically.
The thought caused her stomach to clench. Calondir never lashed out at her, not after she had threatened to cut off his hands and had left him. That had happened many years ago. For a very long time now, they had existed in two separate spheres emotionally, and they only came together to work on demesne issues.
Ferion was a different matter. Throughout his childhood, she had worked to protect him from his father, but now that he was an adult, she could no longer be present every time he met with Calondir. All she could do was try to keep Calondir from finding out.
You canât make Ferion quit, Bel,
Graydon told her gently.
Iâve seen it with people who canât stop drinking. Ferion is the only person who can make him quit. He has to hit bottom, whatever that might mean to him, and he has to choose at a fundamental level to change.
Her gaze dampened. She said,
One step at a time. For tonight, Iâll just be glad to get him out of here.
The Orc guards watched but did nothing as they reached the door. When Graydon opened it, heat, light and noise poured out. Squaring her shoulders, Bel stepped inside and he followed.
In contrast to the air of general decay outside, the interior was decorated with plush carpets and paintings. A variety of scents assaulted her noseâliquors, a clash of perfumes, the grease from cooked meats, and unwashed bodies.
Smoke hung in the air, both tobacco and hashish. Music played somewhere, competing with shouts, loud conversation and coarse laughter.
The place was packed with
Bel had never explored this part of the city. She saw that she hadnât 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.
As she took in the scene from the fragile privacy within the cloakâs hood, she had a sudden, deep pang of longing for the fresh, clean air and green scents of her Wood. Her Wood was wild and sentient, and while it wasnât always a safe place for strangers to wander, it was the child of her Power, her hearth and home.
She also noted how a few of the sharp, edgy men eyed her and Graydon. Their gazes lingered on Graydonâs height and bulk, and the men left them alone.
They were fools to only take Graydon into consideration. If she had come here alone, she could have handled them, but that might have indeed brought her unwanted attention, so she was glad she didnât have to.
âThere,â Graydon said suddenly.
The sound of his voice made her jump. This place gnawed at her nerves. âWhat?â
He inclined his head. She looked in the direction of his nod to a plain building that was in much better repair than its neighbors. A single letter M hung above a doorway that was guarded by two hulking Orcs.
She sighed. She hated Orcs.
âI donât understand how he could stomach coming to such a place,â she muttered as they strode toward the building.
Graydon sounded as grim as she felt. âIf heâs caught in the throes of a gambling addiction, then he may not have had much choice. This might be the only place that would run him a line of credit.â
A combination of anger and despair made her clench her teeth. As they grew closer to the building, she switched to telepathy.
I donât know how to help him, and I canât keepbailing him out. Each time the debt grows higher and higher. Sooner or later, heâs going to come to his fatherâs attention.
If that happened, Calondir would react as he always did when he was confronted with a situation that made him angry. When he lost his temper, he could be verbally abusive. Sometimes he lashed out physically.
The thought caused her stomach to clench. Calondir never lashed out at her, not after she had threatened to cut off his hands and had left him. That had happened many years ago. For a very long time now, they had existed in two separate spheres emotionally, and they only came together to work on demesne issues.
Ferion was a different matter. Throughout his childhood, she had worked to protect him from his father, but now that he was an adult, she could no longer be present every time he met with Calondir. All she could do was try to keep Calondir from finding out.
You canât make Ferion quit, Bel,
Graydon told her gently.
Iâve seen it with people who canât stop drinking. Ferion is the only person who can make him quit. He has to hit bottom, whatever that might mean to him, and he has to choose at a fundamental level to change.
Her gaze dampened. She said,
One step at a time. For tonight, Iâll just be glad to get him out of here.
The Orc guards watched but did nothing as they reached the door. When Graydon opened it, heat, light and noise poured out. Squaring her shoulders, Bel stepped inside and he followed.
In contrast to the air of general decay outside, the interior was decorated with plush carpets and paintings. A variety of scents assaulted her noseâliquors, a clash of perfumes, the grease from cooked meats, and unwashed bodies.
Smoke hung in the air, both tobacco and hashish. Music played somewhere, competing with shouts, loud conversation and coarse laughter.
The place was packed with
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