Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(89)

He pulled her into his arms. Bending his head, he whispered in her ear, “Father might have cracked the whip, but you have always been my heart and soul too, you know.”

Her heart swelled. Surprised tears sprang to her eyes.

He released her. Even as she opened her mouth to reply, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

He had barely stepped from her side when Linwe reappeared. The young woman didn’t say anything, but her warm expression and companionship provided support as Bel regained her composure.

Soon other people approached, diplomats and representatives from other Elder Races, and she grew so involved in conversation, she didn’t have time to dwell on Ferion’s departure.

About an hour later, the music stopped.

At one end of the banquet hall, the doors opened, and people moved off the dance floor, making way as the procession of the gods started.

In a masque of any size, seven handpicked actors, dressed as the seven gods of the Elder Races, would walk through the crowd. In smaller gatherings, family members or friends would portray the gods. Legend said that a god attended every masque in secret, but Bel had never known there to be any actual truth to it.

For an elaborate affair like the Tower masque, each of the seven gods was sumptuously costumed. However, unlike previous times, this year, the orchestra did not resume to play a processional.

This year, the gods entered the banquet hall in silence.

A mutter passed over the crowd, then subsided.

Leading the procession was Taliesen, god of the Dance. Part male and part female, Taliesen was first among the Primal Powers because dance is change, and the universe is constantly in motion.

The current Taliesen was portrayed by a slender woman. Following her came Inanna, the goddess of Love; Nadir, the goddess of the Depths or the Oracle; Will, the god of the Gift; Camael, the goddess of the Hearth; and Hyperion, the god of Law.

Last of all came Azrael, god of Death.

Stillness filled the hall as Death walked past. All the Wyr, including every sentinel, bowed to the elegant figure in black.

Every Wyr, except Dragos. He didn’t bow. Bel didn’t think he had it in him to bow to anyone. But he did stand rigidly at attention.

The crowd followed the Wyr’s lead, bowing to Death and paying homage to the sentinel and the Djinn who had fallen. Bel’s gaze filled with moisture, and she bit her lips. As Death came abreast, she bowed as well. The silence remained, deep and profound, until the last of the gods exited the banquet hall at the other end.

The musicians lifted their instruments, music filled the hall once again, and the moment of remembrance was over.

Long after midnight, after everyone had unmasked and the crowd thinned, Graydon came to find her. He looked as tired as she felt. At some point, he had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first few shirt buttons at his neck.

All of the sentinels, along with Dragos, Pia and Liam, had worn black that evening. While she knew, like Linwe dying the pink out of her hair, that none of them had worn black as a fashion statement, still, the simple formality of Graydon’s suit looked good on him.

The black emphasized the long length of his body, along with the power in the breadth of those wide, muscled shoulders. It also highlighted his colors—the healthy burnish of his deep tan, his tawny hair, and the rich depth in his dark gray eyes.

Even though, she did admit to herself, the cut of the suit managed to achieve adequate.

A rush of love for him washed over her. When he came up to her, she opened her arms, and he walked into them, wrapping her in a big hug, while his presence surrounded her with that nourishing, friendly blaze.

She could never get enough of it, never get tired of his companionship. The fact that she was also overcome with desire and deeply, desperately in love with him sealed her fate, and she was content to never leave it.

Nestling against his chest, she lifted her face for his kiss.

He stroked her shoulders. “We’re gathering up at the penthouse. It’s kinda tradition after the masque, and we’d like for you—I’d like for you to come, if you would.”

Instantly, she put her own tiredness aside. This was her first invitation to an inner circle gathering. She was frankly surprised that it had come so soon. It was too important for her not to go.

And even if none of that had been true, Graydon wanted her there, and that was all the impetus she needed.

“Of course,” she said. As he laced his fingers through hers, and they walked in the direction of the elevators, she asked, “Who will be there?”

“It’s just going to be the sentinels. Rune and Carling, and Pia, Liam and Dragos.” He paused, giving her a sidelong look. “Fair warning. More than a couple of us might get falling down drunk, including me.”

So it would be a very small, select group.

She squeezed his fingers. “Do you need me to stay sober, so that I can get us back to the apartment?”

He shook his head. “I never get so drunk I can’t get home.”

She told him, “Then I may very well join you, because it’s been a hell of a week.”

A spark of surprised approval entered his gaze. He said, “It sure has.”

Not only was this her first invitation to an inner circle gathering, but it would also be the first occasion she spent any time with the sentinels, or the Cuelebres as a family.

Back in January, before the crisis in the Elven demesne had erupted, she had shared a brief visit and a connection with Pia, but she hadn’t spent any time with the other woman since then.