Quen touched my elbow, and I started down the wide carpeted stairs. I kept one hand on the banister since I couldn’t look away from the window, fascinated. Window, not windows, as it seemed to be one plate of glass. I didn’t think glass that large was structurally sound, but there it was, looking as if it was only a few millimeters thick with no distortion. It was as if nothing was there.

“It’s not plastic,” Quen said softly, his green eyes on the view. “It’s ley line energy.”

My eyes jerked to his, reading the truth in his eyes. Seeing my wonder, a faint smile edged his Turn-scarred features. “It’s everyone’s first question,” he said, showing how he knew where my thoughts had been. “Sound and air are the only things to pass through.”

“It must have cost a fortune,” I said, wondering how they got the usual red haze of ever-after out of it. Beyond it was a stunning vista of Trent’s private, snow-slumped gardens. A crag of stone rose almost as high as the roof, a waterfall cascading over it to leave thickening bands of ice to glint in the last of the day’s light. The water pooled into a natural-looking basin that I would have bet wasn’t, turning into a stream that meandered through the well-established evergreens and shrubs until it vanished.

A deck gray with age and swept clear of snow stretched between the window and the landscaping. As I slowly descended to the lower level, I decided the round disk of cedar flush with the deck and leaking steam was probably a hot tub. Nearby was a sunken area with seating for backyard parties. I had always thought Ivy’s grill with its gleaming chrome and huge burners was over the top, but whatever Trent had was probably obscene.

My feet found the first floor, and my gaze dropped to my feet as it suddenly seemed I was walking on loam instead of carpet. “Nice,” I breathed, and Quen indicated that I should wait at the nearest gathering of chairs.

“I’ll tell him,” the security officer said. He shot Jonathan what I thought was a warning look before he retraced his steps to the second floor to vanish into an unseen area of the house.

I laid my coat and garment bag on a leather couch and made a slow spin on my heel. Now that I was downstairs, the fireplace looked even bigger. It wasn’t lit, and I thought I could probably stand up in the hearth without stooping. At the opposite end of the room was a low stage with built-in amps and a light display. A nice-sized dance floor spread before it, surrounded by cocktail tables.

Hidden and cozy under the shelter of the second-story overhang was a long bar, the well-oiled wood and chrome gleaming. There were more tables here, bigger and lower. Huge planters full of dark green foliage that could flourish in the dimmer light surrounded them to give a measure of privacy that the large open floor plan lacked.