Gryphon grimaced. “My parents did not believe in…accommodating my crippled state,” he said. “This house is full of steps, narrow passageways, and the like. When I’m finished, I’ll be able to go wherever I want on this property without help.”

“I see,” Han said.

“I’m not sure you do,” Gryphon said, stretching his arms above his head, arching his back. “I assume you did not invite yourself here to discuss my remodeling projects,” he said. “You’re probably wondering why I voted for you for High Wizard.”

“Yes,” Han said. “I am. I know that your family is close to the Bayars. And, from a political standpoint, I just expected—”

“‘Close to the Bayars,’” Gryphon repeated. “Some of us are close to some of the Bayars.” He looked past Han, into the house. “Ah, yes. Here we are. I took the liberty of inviting someone else to this meeting, by way of explanation.”

Han swung around in his chair, his hand on his amulet, his senses screaming danger. Was this all a ruse to win his confidence, to get him alone and vulnerable? He didn’t know whether to expect Fiona, or Micah, or the entire Bayar clan.

He didn’t expect to see Mordra deVilliers.

She walked out onto the patio and stood behind Gryphon’s chair, resting her hands on his shoulders. She’d accumulated a few more tattoos and piercings since Han had last seen her, at Oden’s Ford. She wore talismans all over her body and tied into her hair, and her stoles bore the deVilliers’ wavelets in gold.

Her red-streaked hair was longer than he remembered, hanging shining to her shoulders. She looked good—less wounded, somehow—and happier than he’d ever seen her.

“I believe you know each other,” Gryphon said, with a wicked smile.

Mordra threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Alister,” she said. “You should see your face. It is priceless.”

“Mordra,” Han stammered. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just arrived yesterday.” She brushed at her clothes as if they still might carry the dust of travel. “I don’t believe I will ever get on a horse again,” she said. “I understand congratulations are in order. Do I have to call you my Lord Alister now that you’re High Wizard?”

“Han will do,” Han said. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I hadn’t expected—”

Mordra leaned down and kissed Gryphon on the lips—a good, thorough kiss. “You didn’t know we were…um…close, right?” She laughed again.

“No,” Han admitted. “No, I didn’t. When…ah…when did that happen?”

“You thought I was in love with Fiona Bayar,” Gryphon said. “Poor, sad Gryphon, mooning after the ice princess who would never, never have him.”

“Well, I have to admit, I wondered—”

“Oh, put Alister out of his misery, Adam,” Mordra said. “He looks like a puppy that’s just been smacked.”