I couldn’t help but smile. “Like father, like son.”

“In Talon’s version, he played but a minor role. You and Piaras ended up with the credit for the demon’s defeat.”

“That was no minor role.”

“I know.”

“Your son has some major pipes.” I hesitated. I didn’t want to bring up painful memories, but if anything like the Quad happened again, I needed to know what Talon had in his vocal arsenal. “Talon’s mother. What was her spellsinging specialty?”

“She was a nightclub singer. If she was anything more, she hid it well.”

Just like Talon.

“Do you know anything about her family?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

His answer was abrupt—and I knew Tam well enough to recognize it for the lie it was. Tam knew but he wasn’t telling. I wasn’t going to push him on it, at least not now. It was probably just painful memories of the woman he once loved, now dead. Probably.

“Does your family know about Talon?” No one other than Tam knew until last week. I didn’t know if Rudra Muralin or any of the Khrynsani got a chance to send word back home of the new addition to the Mal’Salin family, but if they did, it could be trouble of the worst kind—for Talon and for Tam. Tam’s only connection to the Mal’Salin family had been through his late wife. He’d told me that they hadn’t had any children, so you’d think the Mal’Salins wouldn’t care what Tam did—or who he did it with. Apparently once in the family, always in the family; especially when you’d been the goblin queen’s chief shaman for five years. The Mal’Salins didn’t let go of that kind of talent. I couldn’t throw rocks; my family was the same way.

“They know,” Tam said simply. “They have requested that I deny him.”

I snorted. “Requested? The roundabout goblin way of saying ‘do it or else.’ ”

“Precisely.”

“What are you going to do?”

Tam smiled coldly. “What I’ve already done. Formally acknowledged Talon as blood of my blood, my son, and my heir.”

I whistled. “That put you and the kid in the royal crosshairs.”

“I was in the family’s crosshairs before—and so was Talon. I’ve merely put my cards on the table. I will not deny what is mine.”

“You can’t be the only Mal’Salin with a half-breed child.”

“I’m not, but the royal family keeps any dalliances—”

“Under the covers where they belong.”

“Their opinion is not mine. And with Rudra Muralin still at large, and the Mal’Salins aware of Talon’s existence, he has had an escort.”

“I didn’t see any guards.”

“He has two, and this morning Talon eluded them. Though I’m certain he did it more out of a desire to rebel than any true desire to lose them.”

“It’s his way or no way,” I said. “Again, sounds like you.”

“Talon has assured me that it won’t happen again. Many of the students who are of noble goblin blood have similar bodyguard arrangements. Talon doesn’t stand out in the least.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I knew what Tam meant by protected. “Oh, I’m sure your colleagues blend right into the woodwork. Other kids have muscle protecting them; Talon has a dark mage hit squad.”

“Until the danger to my son is past—that is, until I see Rudra Muralin’s cold, dead body for myself—then yes, my colleagues will remain here protecting my son. You have taken similar precautions for Piaras?”

Talon had dark mages. Piaras had pirates. A good choice if any potential attackers chose steel or clubs. Problem was, demons didn’t favor either weapon—and neither did Carnades. Vegard was doing his best to keep me off of a slab in the morgue, or a cell in the citadel. I’d ask Mychael to make a similar arrangement for Piaras.

I tossed back the rest of my drink. “If Muralin doesn’t get what he wants, how long will it take him to get that Hellgate fully open?”

“He’s only completed the first steps to opening it,” Tam said. “The types of demons spotted around the city today are nothing; they’re just the beginning. It will take days to get a Hellgate fully open and stabilized. That’s why it takes an obscene amount of strength to open one—that and stamina.”

“So Muralin’s somewhere on this island giving himself a psychic hernia opening a Hellgate.”

“Unless he doesn’t want it all the way open.”

“Why?”

“Like you said, he wants the Saghred, not an island seething with demons.”

“And because extortion works better that way,” came Mychael’s voice from the now-open door.

Chapter 12

Mychael looked at me with a mixture of concern and relief. “You’re still here.” He left out “with Tam,” but his eyes said it clearly enough. “Vegard, allow no one in.”

“Yes, sir.” Vegard had the look of a man who knew a chewing out was coming. I knew it was my fault. What had happened between Tam and me wouldn’t have happened if Vegard had been in the room with us. I owed my bodyguard an apology—and myself a swift kick for not listening to him.

Mychael closed the door.

“I asked Vegard to stay in the hall,” I told him. “My fault, not his. So, if you’re—”

Mychael held up a hand. “The last order I gave Vegard was to get you out of watcher headquarters.”

“He did a fine job.”

“I expected nothing less.”

“After what happened in the Quad, I needed to talk to Tam, so I insisted that we come here.”

“I assumed as much. I needed to find you, so knowing exactly where to look saved me some much-needed time.”

Mychael’s sea blue eyes went from me to Tam, searching, assessing, and knowing—but not judging. At least not judging me. He knew. How could he not sense the umi’atsu bond between Tam and me? Mychael was the paladin of the Conclave Guardians, duty bound to be the scourge of black magic practitioners everywhere. If what Tam and I had wasn’t blooming black magic, I didn’t know what was.

“Tam and I have a very big problem.” I didn’t care what my family said; confession was good for the soul—or at least the nerves.

“Umi’atsu,” Tam said simply.

Mychael didn’t even bat an eye. “How far has it gone?”

“Far enough.”

I spoke. “He knows exactly how crappy my day has been.” I tried for glib, all I got was ignored.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” Mychael’s voice was low and quiet.

Tam drew himself up. “I won’t surrender to it, so I didn’t think it necessary to tell her. She’s been through enough already.”

I looked from one to the other. “As fascinating as it is to listen to the two of you talk about me as if I’m not here, would one—or both—of you tell just what the hell is going on?”

Mychael’s face was an expressionless mask. “You tell her, or I will.”

“An umi’atsu bond does more than link two mages,” Tam said. “It enables them to tap into each other’s power.”

“Like what we did under the embassy and in the Quad. I understand that. What’s so . . . ?” Cold realization prickled down my back. “Back it up; did you say each other’s power?”

He nodded. “Magically speaking, we are becoming one. You can focus and use my power now.” He hesitated. “Eventually, I will be able to do the same with yours.”

“Tam, my power’s nothing to write home about. You’re talking about the Saghred’s power.”

“Yes.”

Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.

“As far as the Saghred is concerned, we will be one and the same,” he told me. “Actually, I could probably tap the Saghred’s power now.” His expression was bleak and hard.

“Now?” Reality sank in, and lately my reality hasn’t been pretty. “You could use the Saghred.” Saying it out loud just made it worse.

“Or the Saghred could use him,” Mychael finished for me. “Either way is just as dangerous. You were only a moderately talented sorceress until just a few weeks ago. Tam has been a master of the dark arts for most of his adult life. He would immediately be able to wield the Saghred’s power to its full extent.”

Tam spoke. “Raine, it won’t happen, but the—”

“Damn right, it won’t,” I shot back.

“But the consequences would be dire if it did,” he pressed forcefully. “So we have to face all possibilities. If the Saghred ever gained complete control of me, the only way to stop me—and to destroy what I would become—would be to kill me.” He looked to Mychael like a man about to ask the ultimate favor of a friend.

“If it comes to that, I will be there for you,” Mychael promised with quiet conviction.

Tam inclined his head in formal gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” I couldn’t believe this. “Thank you? No, no, there’ll be no thank-yous, no need to ‘be there’ for anybody, because none of this is going to happen.”

My heart was pounding absurdly loud in my ears. The Saghred didn’t want to use Tam; it wanted Tam to use it. Tam couldn’t get his hands on the Saghred, but he’d just gotten his hands on me. Use me, use the Saghred. Oh shit. The rock was starving and it wanted souls. There was no way in hell that I was feeding the thing and the Saghred knew it, so it forged an umi’atsu bond between me and Tam. Since I refused to feed it, given enough time and temptation, Tam just might.

I turned to Mychael. “In watcher headquarters, when I vaporized those demons, I didn’t feel anything holding the Saghred back. Are the containments—”