“My mother’s alive?” Dusk’s whole body was trembling now, though Layla noticed none of his rumbles upset the plane. As they launched into takeoff, Layla was so intent on the conversation that she barely noticed her anxiety this time. Reaching out, she clasped Dusk’s hand, both of them watching Davira for any sign of falsehood.
“Yes, your mother’s alive. No, she’s not locked in a dungeon.” Davira sassed casually with a lifted eyebrow. “But she is a treasured member of the palace, and thus was not able to leave and visit you these past years. And as our King is tight with security, she was not permitted to contact you. But now you may come home to your rightful place, if you are strong enough, and claim a spot in the Royal Court at your King’s side. He is merciful, Dusk Arlohaim. He wishes for you to respect his authority. And if you can show contrition for hiding your power from him for so very long… he will show you mercy.”
Frowning now, Dusk settled back, swirling his bourbon and staring Davira down. “So what does King Markus want from me?”
“Your allegiance.” Davira spoke without blinking. “Something you have been denying him for many long years. Your homecoming into his benevolent arms will not be without tests. But should you pass your King’s Trials… all the world may soon be yours.”
With a lifted eyebrow, Davira sipped her champagne again.
And as they leveled off into cruising, a tinkling crystal bell was suddenly rung for lunch.
CHAPTER 23 – GAME
Layla and Dusk were presented with a spectacular affair for lunch, full of royal delicacies such as the best European palaces might serve. But as Layla sat at a banquet table that could have held sixteen people inside the jet, waiting while the server filled their plates with small bites as classy as their appetizers had been, Layla was aching to hammer Davira with questions. But this was Dusk’s show, and though her Dragon simmered deep inside, Layla waited for him to speak as she sampled her opulent lunch at the ornate table positively dripping with gilded crystals, a massive chandelier hanging above it all.
Layla could feel Dusk’s mind churning with as many questions as her, but she could also feel his awareness that they might not get another meal if things went badly in Prague, and so he ate as steadily as her. Davira eyed them both with not a little intrigue now from their extended silence, and Layla had the sense she had as many questions for Dusk as they had for her. But she was the emissary of her King, and waited patiently until Dusk wiped his lips with his napkin at last, sitting back and pushing his gilded plate away.
“I have a few questions.” Dusk spoke levelly, swirling a burgundy wine the server had poured. As Dusk cocked his head at Davira where she sat across from them, Layla felt a low rumble of Dusk’s magics roll through her, though it was not manifested inside King Markus’ magically-insulated jet.
“I surmised you would.” Davira spoke just as levelly back, straightening in her high-backed blue velvet chair and swirling her own wine. “What would you like to know?”
“Firstly,” Dusk’s eyes shifted into the diamond-hard menace of his Dragon now, “I want to know how my mother is.”
“Sky Arlohaina is alive and well,” Davira spoke almost hastily, and Layla saw her give the smallest adjustment of posture at the look of Dusk’s Dragon, as if it made her uncomfortable. “She is a treasured part of the court and considered part of the royal family. She lives in opulence and wants for nothing. Her extensive talents at negotiation and peacekeeping are valuable to our King, and she is treated accordingly.”
“So my mother really isn’t a prisoner at the palace.” Dusk frowned, thoughtful.
“No.” Davira spoke back with a pointed look. “She remains at the palace of her own free will; all the Royals do. Like I said earlier, our King is tight with security and allows minimal contact with one’s clan of origin once the decision is made to remain in Prague. If you had ever visited our palace, you would know these things.”
“Visited the palace and been convinced to remain, you mean,” Dusk chuckled darkly, “just like all the others Markus blackmailed to stay.”
“Our King does not blackmail.” Davira bristled now, and Layla watched her re-cross her knees as she gave Dusk a hard look from her smoky dark eyes. “He is a King, not a pirate.”
“Then how does Markus convince Royals to remain at his palace their entire lives with no contact home?” Dusk countered fiercely now, setting his wine down upon the table. “Every Crystal Dragon knows a summons to the Crystal Palace in Prague is a one-way ticket. Everyone I’ve ever talked to thinks it’s a death note, to receive a summons to your Trials of Proving.”
“If any of those Crystal Dragons you talked to had ever visited Prague, they would know differently.” Davira set her wine down now also, crossing her arms. “Our Crystal King does not waste talent; he uses it. And it is better used close to his person in Prague than anywhere else. Just like your mother.”
It was a terse and minimally forthcoming answer, and it was clear from Davira’s posture in her elegant suit that she would say no more on that particular subject. But Layla could feel Dusk was at least mollified that his mother was safe and unharmed living at the palace. His astonishment at the news still rumbled deeply through Layla, though her Bind-magics were partially dampened on the jet. But as he reached out, clasping Layla’s hand upon the table, the Bind between them roared. Layla saw Davira sway slightly in her seat, her dark eyelashes closing for a moment as if she’d felt Dusk and Layla’s Dragons twist into each other. As she did, a flash of smoky labradorite scales blossomed over her high cheekbones, the same color flashing through her long dark hair.
Dusk noted it also – and the tiniest ruthless smile suddenly moved through his Dragon.
“What will I face when I arrive?” Dusk spoke suddenly, changing topics. But he kept up the pummeling roar of his Dragon inside Layla’s veins, boosted by their touch and the Bind – and Layla saw Davira have to draw a deep breath to gather herself before she spoke again.
“Your Trials of Proving will most likely begin in a few days.” She spoke authoritatively, though Layla saw a flash of labradorite scales at her outer cheekbones again as Davira struggled to control whatever she was feeling from Dusk and the Bind. “You will have public audience with our King immediately upon landing today, so he can take your measure. You will be shown to rooms after that and provided with dinner as our King decides how best to test you. The Trials are tailored to the individual and set only by our King, so only he knows what he has in store to test your strength and abilities.”
“Will I be given any awareness of what I’ll face?” Dusk frowned now; his thinking face.
“No.” Davira spoke succinctly. “You will have no prior knowledge of what you will face; your Trials will be a surprise on the day in question. But there are always only three Trials. A Dragon has to pass them all to impress our King. In-between the appointed Trial days, you will be allowed to rest and recuperate, and will be tended by our King’s healers so you will be fully ready to face the next one. The whole process takes about two weeks, at the end of which, you will face King Markus’ judgement on your performance. If you have done well, you will be granted a boon.”
“A boon, huh?” Dusk laughed softly, though his eyes were fierce. “What if the boon I desire is simply being left the fuck alone?”
“It will be considered.” But Davira’s eyelashes flickered, and Layla could feel the lie inside her words. The emissary had been smooth with most of her information today. Most of it had not been outright lies, and a lot had been the truth. But this statement dripped of falsehood, and as Dusk sat back, smiling the coldest, wryest smile Layla had ever seen on his lips, she suddenly realized it was a look of command like Adrian often wore.
“I see.” Dusk spoke softly, staring Davira down.
Davira fidgeted at Dusk’s impressive manifestation of command, reaching out to pour another round of red wine into their glasses. Dusk took his, sipping cordially though his eyes never left Davira’s – pummeling the intense energy of his Dragon into Layla to see how much Davira could feel it.
But setting her wine down, Davira met Dusk’s stare squarely now. She was an accomplished emissary, and though a flash of scales showed at her cheeks again, Layla could feel her fighting back against whatever she was feeling from his Dragon. Davira was excellent at revealing almost nothing beyond the party line, Layla noted. Clearly, King Markus Ambrose didn’t want Dusk learning much about how he ran their Lineage or his palace, and Davira was perfectly suited for the role of his emissary.
