Piaras Rivalin.

Oh no.

Piaras had just turned eighteen, but the young elf had the pipes and talent of a spellsinging master. Youth and lethal skill were a dangerous combination. Piaras’s voice was a weapon; he was in college to learn how to control it. Last week he’d inadvertently knocked out half the Guardians in the citadel. Right now, the kid had that demon-a demon that had his girlfriend’s life clutched in his claws-tacked to a piece of sky like a bug pinned to a board.

The demon snarled and tried to break free, but Piaras held firm. He’d reacted instinctively without realizing what he had bitten off. He knew now. His normally pale face was strained with effort, his lean chest rapidly rising and falling, struggling to keep air in his lungs to keep that spellsong going. He spotted me, his large brown eyes relieved and imploring at the same time. Poor kid had never seen a demon before. Now he’d caught one and had no idea what to do with it.

That made two of us.

I didn’t know what I could do to help, but I wasn’t going to let him down. I’d think of something.

The students who had been sitting at the cafй table with Piaras had knocked over their chairs and scrambled out of the line of fire should that demon be able to strike back. All of them ran except for one young goblin student-Talon Nathrach. Piaras’s friend. The son of a more-than-good friend of mine, Tamnais Nathrach.

Piaras’s expression turned from fear to fierce determination; the demon’s sharp features contorted with raw hatred. If Piaras’s spellsong faltered, that demon would fry him where he stood-or rip his throat out like that elven mage.

No way in hell or anywhere else.

Vegard swore and kept his fireball in readiness, but didn’t launch it. I knew why. Interrupting another magic user’s spell with one of your own was potentially deadly for anyone in the general vicinity-especially the spellcaster. Piaras was in enough danger without me or Vegard making it worse.