"But what about Adrian?"

Saer reached out to touch a strand of hair that lay on my cheek. I recoiled, not wanting him to touch me. Melissande turned at my movement, mopping up the last of her tears and smiling a sad, brave smile at me as she moved to her brother's side. "I am sorry to be so weak, but I fear so for Damian." She put her hand over Saer's heart, her eyes liquid. "We will save him, my brother. We will find him, and save him, and destroy the one responsible for his torture."

"Asmodeus," I said, my stomach balling as Saer wrapped an arm around his sister.

"The Betrayer," she hissed, turning her face into his shoulder. His eyes met mine, and I read his intentions in them.

He would save his son, but not his brother.

No matter how nicely Melissande phrased her words to me, explaining that everyone was concerned about how weak and near death I had been after the banish charm, the plain fact was that I was a prisoner.

"I have rested," I said tersely as I paced past the small table where my jailer had deposited a tray of food. "I have recovered. I am fine, I swear to you—absolutely, perfectly fine. Why can't I leave the room?"

"The others feel you might risk harming yourself if you were to leave now," Melissande said with suspect complacency.

I toyed for a moment with the idea of binding her to the room and making my escape, but alienating her would do neither Adrian nor me any good. Obviously, I was going to have to find another way out. I sat down at the table and poked at the food. "So, where exactly are we? This doesn't look like your cousin Christian's castle."

She smiled and brushed back a long, flowing curtain. "No, we're still in Cologne, in a house that belongs to one of Christian's friends. It is a very old house, a historic structure, actually."

"Really?" I looked around the room. It was your normal European bedroom—if your idea of normal included molded gilt-touched ceilings, linen paneling, and an antique rug probably worth more than I made in an entire year. "I assume this historic house includes a handy dungeon for storing unwanted guests?"

"You're speaking of the Betrayer." She looked out the window, her face unreadable. "There is no dungeon, but I assure you he is safely confined."

"Where?" I asked, desperate to know. She frowned. I hurried on before she could ask why I was so interested. "Adrian can be very persuasive when he wants to be. Once I'm given the thumbs up health-wise, I'd like to know where he is… so I can avoid him, naturally."

"Naturally," she answered, her voice as smooth as silk. "I will tell you so you will be easier in your mind, but truly, there is no need for you to worry. Saer has most effectively bound the Betrayer, and Allie—she is Christian's Beloved—has warded all the exits in the room so he cannot possibly escape."

"Room?" I asked, feigning horror as I looked around. "A bedroom? Near me?"

"No, no, a storage room in the basement," she answered quickly. "As long as you do not venture there, you will be perfectly safe."

I hated to deliberately mislead Melissande, I really did, but I had no choice. "And Saer? Is he staying here as well?"

Her eyebrows rose as she gave me a speculative look. "He's very handsome, is he not?"

"Uh…" For some insane reason, I felt myself blushing. "Yes, he is. I'd like to talk to him when he has a free moment."

"I'm sure he would enjoy speaking with you, but unfortunately, he's returning to London. He interrogated the Betrayer while you were sleeping, and he believes he has the information he needs to find Damian."

Damn! He'd gone to save his son. I suppose that was only to be expected—if it were my child whose welfare was at stake, I would have left the second I had the ring. "Ah. Well, I'm sure he won't have any trouble rescuing Damian now that he has the ring. Will he come back here, or does he live somewhere else?"

"Saer has homes in Berlin and Prague," she answered, her frown back. "But what ring are you speaking of?"

"The ring—Asmodeus's ring. The one Adrian was looking for in Christian's castle—"

"Saer has no such ring," she interrupted before I could explain that I had found it. "He would have told me if he did. I'm not entirely sure there is such a ring. You of all people know how easily superstition and speculation over the centuries can make something that doesn't exist seem real."

"Saer doesn't have the ring," I repeated slowly. Why wouldn't he tell his sister he had it? She was obviously terribly distraught when it came to Damian—why wouldn't Saer put her out of her misery by telling her he had a surefire way to save his son? Perhaps it wasn't as surefire as I assumed it was. "Well, I hope he frees your nephew. I know you're worried."

"Yes." She bit her lip and hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Nell, I want you to know that I appreciate you had a reason for insisting you were not a Charmer, but now more than ever I need your help. Assuming Saer locates Damian, we will need you to charm the curse binding him to Asmodeus. I would not insult you by offering you more money to help us, but I am not too proud to beg you for your help if that's what it will take."

"You don't have to beg, but, Melissande…" It was my turn to do a little lip-gnawing. "I didn't lie to you when I told you I wasn't a Charmer. I'm not."

She gave me a sad, disappointed look.

"Well, obviously, now I am," I allowed, trying to think of a way to explain the situation without exposing my true relationship with Adrian. "I told you that I had an accident ten years ago. That accident resulted in the death of a very good friend, and caused me to have a stroke that took me months to recover from."

Her eyes widened.

"My actions, my attempt to charm a curse, caused my friend's death. My own destruction aside, you can see why I was so hesitant to offer to charm the curse that binds your nephew—I could very well kill him in the attempt."

"Of course I understand," she said sympathetically, her hand giving mine a little squeeze. "But that's all in the past! You warded earlier this morning, and although you swooned afterward, you do not seem to have seriously harmed yourself."

"What… uh… what happened to Sebastian?" I asked, suddenly worried that maybe I had killed him.

She grimaced. "I'm afraid your banishment charm wasn't as successful as you would have liked."

Oh, God, I did kill him! Now I had two deaths on my soul!

"Rather than Adrian being banished from the building, it was Sebastian who was removed."

"He's alive? Not hurt?" I asked, almost afraid to hope.

"Oh, no, not hurt at all. He is here, as a matter of fact. I'm sure you're distressed that your ward went awry, but I have every hope that you will succeed with Damian's curse."

Pride that I had successfully cast a ward, which had been growing as she spoke, suddenly took a nosedive to despair. "But… but, Melissande! There's a big difference between casting a banishment ward and trying to unmake a demon lord's curse!"

"I am confident you will succeed," she said, an obstinate look on her face. "You have to. There is no one else."

There might not be anyone else to charm the curse, but sure as shooting there was a big ole magic ring that could do the job.

"I can't," I said as firmly as I could without being obnoxious. "The curse I tried to lift when I caused my friend's death and my stroke was cast by Asmodeus. It is very clear to me that when it comes to besting a demon lord, I'm out of my league—dramatically and fatally out of my league. And while I would be willing to risk my own soul, I will not risk another's."

Her gray eyes were stormy as I spread my hands. "Please, Melissande, you must understand. I have already taken one life—I will not be responsible for taking another."

Her gaze dropped. "Then he is lost to us."