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face whenever Caoilainn Elspeth Muirgheal was mentioned. Right now Gabriel couldn’t see the king’s face, but his shoulders had tightened the moment her name had wafted to his ears, the bloodred-tipped ends of his hair shifting over his shoulders.
    “And?”
    “And did Aislinn come to my bed, fall in mad, passionate love with me, and ask to do anything I wished of her?” He smiled. “No.”
    The king turned. His eternally handsome, pale face was set in grim lines. His light blue eyes snapped with irritation. “Why not? I thought you’d have the job done in no time. I thought she’d swoon at your feet like all the other women and this would be no trouble at all. I was surprised and displeased you didn’t have her with you tonight. Don’t tell me I have to send someone else to fetch her.”
    Someone else . Gabriel knew what that meant and it was nothing good . . . for Aislinn, anyway. Gabriel wasn’t sure what the Shadow King wanted with Aislinn Christiana Guinevere Finvarra of the long silver blond hair and gray eyes, but he didn’t think the king meant her bodily harm. Still, the “someone else” the king was referring to would not be as pleasant on the eyes or as gentle as he would be and would likely frighten her.
    Gabriel shifted in his seat and sighed. “Let’s try it my way first. I haven’t failed yet; I just need a few more days. You’ve gone a long time without this woman’s presence in your court. You can spare another week or so, right?” He paused. “But I need to know why she’s so important to you.”
    Aodh regarded him silently for a long moment. “She’s a distant relation. I don’t have many of those, so I intend to lavish upon her all she deserves. Please, don’t fail me in this, Gabriel. This means more to me than I can say. I don’t have many—any—relations.”
    Gabriel raised an eyebrow. There was a slight resemblance in the chin and the hair color was right, otherwise he would never have guessed they were blood relations. Aodh had the light blue eyes of icy water or a husky. Aislinn’s were gray like gunmetal or stormy skies. Close, but no cigar. “You can count on me, my king.”
    The king took another drink and then turned back to the window. “Good. Now leave and do your duty. I can hear the souls calling.”
    Gabriel could hear them, too. What was more, he could feel them pulling at him. If he let his work go too long, they would start screaming and clawing at the inside of his psyche. It was time to do what he’d been born to do. He couldn’t escape it. Gabriel didn’t want to escape it. It was his sacred duty.
    He stood. “I’ll return to give you a progress report after I’ve actually made some progress.” But the king had already tuned him out and stood deep in thought at the window once again. Gabriel showed himself out.
    He didn’t stop at his apartment. There was nothing there for him anyway. No family. No romantic entanglements. Gabriel didn’t even keep any servants, preferring total solitude within his walls. No pets. Not many friends, though the ones he had were close.
    Admirers and lovers he had, sure, but they were the nighttime kind, for sex only. Relations between them were warm . . . burning, but the actual friendship was cool.
    That’s the way he liked it.
    And if once in a while he became lonely, well, that was the cost of the secret he kept—the secret he wouldn’t trade for anything because it gave him a reason to exist. It gave him a purpose and a way to serve his people in a meaningful way. Take away his duty here in the Black Tower and he would fade to nothingness.
    He moved through the dark marble hallways and past carved wooden doors. In places, water streamed down the stone faces of the walls or fires burned in the fireplaces of the myriad small sitting areas of the tower.
    The architects had done a good job with the place and there was nowhere else Gabriel wanted to call home. He’d been there when the tower had first been