Determination tightened the corners of his mouth, and he stood poised as if surprised that nothing had changed. But then it wouldn’t until someone claimed the master ring. Quen’s head was down, and I wondered if this was Trent’s perverted way of saying he was sorry. That if I could take being a slave, he could, too.

“We need to try it again,” Trent said, and I closed my hand when he reached for the master ring.

“I’m not putting that thing on,” I said, face hot as I backed away. “Even if it is the dominant one. It’s foul. It needs to be destroyed.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Trent’s confidence was a thin shadow. He was scared. I could see it, and still he came forward and pulled my arm out from behind me. “But if you dominate me with the old, very wild magic that you rekindled, Ku’Sox can’t force me to be his familiar.”

Quen dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. Hesitating, I squinted at Trent, gauging his resolve in the slant of his eyes. My fingers twitched, and I let him open my palm. “Really?”

“I think so. That was my first idea. Quen wanted to try it the other way first. It was the only way he would arrange for Riffletic’s rings to be pulled. That was a bad idea. That, and not including you in my—our—decision.”

I shivered as he touched my shoulder, his other hand still cradling mine with the ring. Was he serious, or just trying to make me not so mad at him?

“You are not a tool, Rachel. I’ve never thought of you that way.”

I broke eye contact, staring at the ring instead. “You should have told me,” I said, only realizing now that I’d forgiven him already. I was so stupid. But he was right. Al had said Trent was the better match. With Trent’s help, I could do this. We could do this.

His hand fell from me, and Trent took the suit jacket that Quen stoically handed him. “Yes, I know,” he said as he let it drop and took up the lab coat instead.

I felt Bis move before he shifted a wing, and I stood waiting when he made the short hop to me, landing upon my shoulder, his tail curving across my back and up under my arm. It was a far more secure position than around my neck, and I let the awful horror of the lines race through me. There was a hint of purity in them, and it gave me hope.

“Where to?” Trent asked, and I slipped the master ring onto my finger.

Trent’s knees buckled, and both Quen and I reached for him. “My God!” Trent gasped, as he caught himself against the desk, a hand to his forehead.