"And that has got what to do with me?"

"He did not elaborate." Ailo was irritated that Risque wasn't simply complying. "You are an Offerling. He sent for you, and you must go."

Risque crossed her arms. "I don't know anything about accounting."

"So? Your master sent for you."

"So?" Risque mimicked her.

Ailo stomped across the room and right up to the one person standing between her and the child. She was taller than Risque, who must have slipped out of her usual clear high heels to stretch out on the sofa. Looking down her nose at the red-eyed woman, Ailo said, "When he says jump, you ask how high. That is how a haven works. Offerlings obey. Period."

Risque was not to be easily intimidated. Her hands dropped onto her hips. She thrust her nose against Ailo's. "Clearly, you don't know me very well."

"Your master said-"

"Honey, Menessos and I have an understanding." She pulled away from Ailo and tilted her head. "Besides, he isn't the boss anymore. Goliath rules the haven now, or have you forgotten?" The sweet smile she ended with was as fake as the lie Ailo was trying to use.

Ailo didn't have time for the banter. She had to get the child and get out of there. Balling up her fist, she hit Risque in the jaw.

The blow knocked Risque to the sofa with a squeal of surprise and pain. Ailo leapt upon her. Sitting on Risque's chest, she held her down while repeatedly punching her in the head.

Pinned against the cushion, Risque's arms were stuck at her sides. She clawed at Ailo's dress, but that was insignificant. Ailo kept punching, right then left, until the Offerling gave up trying to fight back. Surely she would lose consciousness soon.

Then the heel of a clear stiletto pump bit into Ailo's side. She looked down as Risque drew back for another awkward strike. She hadn't given up trying to fight back; she'd managed to pick up one of her shoes to use as a weapon. This time when it slammed against Ailo's body, it pierced the flesh and sank deep.

Screaming in pain, Ailo instinctively leaned away from the weapon.

Risque used that moment to flip Ailo onto the floor. She kicked the shabbubitu repeatedly, then clambered onto Ailo's chest and began throttling her about the head. "How do you like it, bitch? How do you like it?"

Now Ailo's arms were restrained, but she put her hands against Risque's thighs and called on her power to read people, urgently probing deep into the other woman's mind. She hissed at the Offerling, ready to give her much agony.

Risque laughed and punched Ailo in the mouth, splitting her lip on a fang.

Ailo dug her nails in, desperate to force a reading.

Risque slid her fingers through Ailo's hair, gripped tightly at the sides of her head, and slammed her skull against the floor three times. "You dumbass, I'm the one person in this haven immune to your touchy-feely shit." She twisted to slam her fist against the shoe embedded in Ailo's side.

Screaming, Ailo spat blood from her mouth. She willed a change, wanting to become an owl, but the chains around her neck prevented her from transforming fully. Still, she pushed the change into her legs and feet, feeling talons stretch out from her toes.

Reaching awkwardly up, her talons snatched hold of Risque's arms and she kicked the woman across the room. Risque slammed into the stools at the kitchen counter, sending them flying like bowling pins.

Ailo staggered into an upright position as her feet reverted to human. She tore the shoe from her side and started forward. "What are you?" There was no one she couldn't read.

Picking herself up from the floor, Risque touched her already swollen face, dabbed at one puffy eye. "I'm your worst nightmare."

Ailo called to the magic that clothed her, shifting the fabric to a short sheath dress, the excess forming silver weapons in her hands, cylinders that fit her grip nicely, with points on either end. "You don't look like more than a mild daydream to me."

"Is this better?" Risque thrust her hands downward with a jerk and flames swirled across her skin. With a toss of her head, her pale ringlets transmuted into a mass of thin, hissing white serpents.

"Daughter of Hell," Ailo whispered.

Risque leapt at Ailo.

Diving to the side, Ailo rolled away. Risque landed on the sofa, knocking it over with her momentum, then setting it aflame with her burning hands. Ailo pounced as she was clambering to her feet, and struck at the half-demon. Risque threw herself backward, kicking out and knocking the weapon from Ailo's hand. It clanged to the floor and reverted to quicksilver, which pooled and slithered to rejoin with Ailo.

Risque crouched behind the burning sofa, her every serpentine appendage hissing.

As smoke filled the room, Ailo changed her weapons into daggers and advanced. As she swiped the blades before her, Risque blocked with fire so hot, it melted the blades as they passed through the flames.

The fire alarm began clanging. With a scream of frustration, Ailo threw a dagger.

Risque raised her hands to block it but miscalculated the speed, and it sailed through her defenses. She lurched sideways at the last, and the dagger sheared off the heads of three white serpents. Blood dripped from their severed bodies. The weapon clattered to the floor and dissolved into a pool of liquid.

Ailo magicked another dagger from her quicksilver and launched it. The blade thumped into Risque's torso between her lowest ribs. She fell backward. The dagger pooled on her skin, disappearing inside the wound, only to roll around under her skin, making her scream and writhe, before the liquid slithered out of the wound and returned to Ailo.

A scream from her side drew Ailo's attention.

The child stood holding back the curtain that separated the back half of the room. Her eyes were wide, jumping from the burning couch to Ailo, to Risque, and back.

Ailo ran to the girl. "I'm here to help you."

She took a step back. "Did Celia send you?"

Ailo started to agree, then she had a better idea. "No. Persephone did. Come with me." When the child took her offered hand, Ailo sent the fabric rushing down her arm, encircling the girl's head, gagging her mouth lest she scream, and wrapping her body in a cocoon of gray satin. It left very little in covering for Ailo, but that was irrelevant. She lifted the girl in her arms and hurried from the room, leaving Risque gasping for air on the floor.

She heard the sound of many feet rushing across the stage. Leaping from the top of the stairwell, she landed heavily with the extra weight of the girl in her arms. Still, she managed a second long leap, landing behind the door, unseen by those charging in. She slipped into the unlit depths of the backstage and located the service elevator-a minor detail she'd gained from Sil's mind.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE.

My love, are you recovered?"

I heard the voice in the darkness. A man's voice. It was close to me. Then I realized my so-heavy eyelids were shut. Little by little, I managed to part them and allow some light to hit my retinas.

The man was lying beside me in this soft bed that smelled of sweet white flowers. Indeed, as I moved I noticed the petals strewn about us. Stephanotis.

"Love?"

I faced him, and my spine stiffened. He was handsome with his dark hair and eyes, but I didn't recognize him. I chanced to answer. "Yes?"

He smoothed hair from my forehead. "You don't remember me, do you?"

My eyes widened slightly but I said nothing.

"It's all right," he said. "The physician said you might have memory loss for a while."

"Memory loss?" I made a confused face at him. I was sure that any second now all my thoughts would click into place.

He gave me an unconvinced expression. "Tell me my name."

So simple a question. And yet I did not know. "I can't."

"Your name?"

I don't know my own name!

I sat up, heart racing-but his hand on my shoulder was reassuring and warm.

"Stay calm," he said soothingly. "You are safe here. All will be fine."

"How is it going to be fine when I can't remember who I am?" My mind raced, searching for details. I could think in sentences, I knew language, I could identify that we were in a bed, but I could not remember myself.

How the hell do I know those are stephanotis flower petals and I don't know my name?

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. His action was one of familiarity, but it startled me and I flinched. Although he noticed, he didn't seem bothered by it. "Your memory will return. In the meantime, I will tell you everything you want to know. That is what any good husband would do for his wife, don't you agree?"

I winced at his words. The confusion and uncertainty in my mind were disturbing, but the sudden suspicion in my heart made me want to flee. "Yes," I said calmly. "You're my husband?"

He nodded and offered an easy, charming smile. "I am. For many happy years now."

His dark hair was thick and hung to his shoulders. His eyes sparkled with kindness. His bare chest and arms were muscular. He seemed a happy, pleasant man; healthy and robust. His demeanor was calm and non-threatening. Still, I felt misgivings I could not justify. "What is your name?"

He hesitated for a heartbeat. "Aidon."

"And mine?"

He kissed my cheek; this time I didn't flinch. "When you remember that, we'll know your memory has returned." He slid away from me and rose from the bed. He was naked and kept his back turned as he lifted his pants from a seat nearby. "For now, let's walk around our kingdom and see if anything is familiar."

Our kingdom?

He turned and flashed me a smile that could melt hearts. He backed away. "I'll wait for you out here."

After he'd passed through the doorway, I slid from the bed. Unclothed, I looked myself over. No bruises. I felt my head. There was a bit of a knot near my temple. A glance around the room revealed an armoire with one door open, a lovely dress hanging from a hook on the door. It was made of copper- and bronze-colored fabrics. The off-the-shoulder style had a tight, dropped waist. Thin, gauzy layers created bell sleeves, and the matching skirts mimicked them perfectly. I flipped it around and saw the back dipped low except for a single ribbon that, when tied, kept the shoulders in place.

In moments I donned the dress that had obviously been fitted exactly for me-but tying that ribbon was impossible, unless I knotted it, and then it wouldn't be the correct tautness. I was sure he-Aidon-would assist me with that detail. I glanced around for a mirror and discovered one on the armoire door.

My face was . . . unfamiliar.

Then I noticed the red marks and the burns on my neck.

What happened to me?

The sounds of movement beyond this room reminded me that Aidon was waiting for me. I found some slippers in the armoire and hurried out of the room.

His expression lit up when he saw me.

"I need some help with this." I held the dress up in the front with my hands. "There are ribbons in the back that need to be tied."

"I can manage that."

I turned around.

"Forgive me. I should have sent a maid to see if you needed assistance." His fingers were deft with the ribbon and barely touched me, but at the last, as he drew the ribbon into a bow, his fingertips slid across my shoulder blades and made me shiver. "One of them could make a prettier bow, but this will suffice."

"I'm sure it will." Finished, I turned so he could see me. The ends of the satin ribbon tickled.

"My beauty . . . I do adore you in that dress."

I smiled for him, but lost it. "What happened to my neck?"

My question chased the happiness from his expression. Sadness diminished him and he reached out to me, caressing me near the injuries. Seeing the marks must have stirred his anger. His face hardened for an instant, then he covered it.

"It is done, and it will heal. Let us have something to eat, and then we will walk." He offered me his arm.

After a moment's hesitation, I slid my hand into the crook of his arm and began walking with him. "I'm not hungry. Can we just walk? Maybe that will stir up my appetite."

"Whatever you wish, my love."

As we strolled along, the grandeur of this place couldn't be missed. It was merely a hallway, but the carpet was an elaborate wool weave. The curtains were more like tapestries. The walls were crimson and gilded frames held lovely paintings and the occasional mirror. There were sculptures in alabaster, in ebony, and in jade.

My grip slipped from his arm and I roamed closer to a window. Beyond the glass stretched a darkened world of rolling hillsides lit by silvered moonlight and twinkling stars. There was a gentle breeze out there, blowing over the fields and making the plants undulate like the sea.

That silvered light drained the colors, though. I found no recollection in the view.

This vulnerability made me sick inside. This was wrong. Knowing things, but knowing nothing of the people around me, not even knowing where the halls of "my" home would lead me . . . this could drive me mad.

My shoulders slumped and a sigh slipped from my lips.

His fingertips strayed across my skin at my spine, below the ribbon, and traveled downward. It was a gentle touch, affectionate and teasing. My shoulders straightened and my sigh turned from dispirited to desirous.

"Aidon . . . "

"Yes, my love?"

"Show me something I am sure to remember. Something wonderful. Or something terrible. But I must remember!"

He searched my eyes as he considered my request. I waited.

Finally, he said, "This way."

We walked through this incredible palace-a palace!-and arrived at a set of huge golden doors set with ivory carvings and iron handles shaped like stephanotis flowers. Twined stems created the handles that curved out in an arch and down to rejoin the iron.