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looked like he was enjoying himself, as he bent his head close to his female companion.
    The physical and psychic distance between the smiling Elven Lord and his tense wife couldn’t have been more apparent. They existed in two completely separate realms.
    What’s going on, Gray?
Constantine asked telepathically. Appearing to have not a care in the world, the other sentinel popped a fantastically shaped meringue into his mouth.
    So his behavior had not gone unnoticed after all. He wasn’t really surprised. Constantine was an observant son of a bitch. After working together for so long, he knew Graydon much better than Francis did.
    I don’t know,
he said. Dismissing Calondir, he turned his attention back to Bel.
Something.
    Constantine glanced in the direction of his gaze then swiveled his whole body to face Graydon. His handsome face turned sober.
That, my friend, is the very definition of unobtainable.
    A rare surge of anger flashed through him. He bit out,
That’s not what this is about.
    A pause. Graydon could almost see the other male’s mental shift.
    Okay,
said Constantine. His mental voice remained neutral.
What is this about?
    It was about decency and concern for another being’s welfare. It was about living his life to the fullest, and making the right decisions in defiance of any potential future harm that may or may not come to him.
    He told Constantine,
I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.
    He took his leave of the other two men and strode forward. Whatever this challenge was, and whether or not the vision came to fruition, he would approach this like he did the rest of his life—with everything he had.
    If he was strong enough, smart enough, if he fought hard enough and tried long enough, he could win through.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    S everal minutes later, as he escorted Bel away from the dance floor and along a main path, a sense of rightness settled into his bones. They might be mere acquaintances—he had only ever exchanged pleasantries with her and they had never shared a tête-à-tête—but it felt delightful to have her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, and to shorten his stride so that he matched hers.
    His enjoyment of her company, in the face of whatever was causing her hardship, seemed as inappropriate as his earlier disappointment. Deliberately, he turned his attention away from the pleasure and focused on other details of his surroundings.
    Nearby, a Daoine Sidhe knight stood in the middle of a group of inebriated partygoers. The knight’s identity was cloaked behind a full mask with two faces, one facing front and the other facing backward. The forward-facing face was dark, while the backward-facing face was light.
    Graydon recognized the costume. It was Janus, the Roman two-faced god, with one face looking forward into the future, and the other face looking backward into the past.
    The mask mirrored too much of what Graydon was thinking and feeling. Unease tried to ripple through his body, but ruthlessly, he shoved it away. He had lived with the second sight for far too long to read omens into everything.
    A light breeze brushed against his face, and he caught a hint of the knight’s scent tangled with several others. It was Ashe, Oberon’s oldest and strongest wizard knight. As he watched, Ashe pulled a delicate, fresh orchid out of a woman’s hand muff and handed it to her with a silent bow. The woman squealed with delight.
    â€œI would like to make one thing clear,” Bel said suddenly.
    Instantly, his attention snapped back to the pale, set features of her profile. He said, “By all means, please do.”
    Her large, dark eyes flashed at him and then away again. Some force of unknown emotion made them sparkle with reflected firelight. “I don’t actually need your help.”
    Had she changed her mind? Bemused by another wave of inappropriate disappointment, he murmured,