“He really was.” Rikyava’s gaze was sober. She was about to say something else, when a soft knock came at the door.
“I’ll get it.” Rikyava rose, moving to the door and opening it with one hand on her rapier. Layla couldn’t see who it was, but Rikyava startled. A low voice issued through the open doorway, susurrating with the song of a thousand birds, and Layla came instantly alert. She already knew who it was when Rikyava made a motion for the man to wait, then closed the door, returning to Layla with astonishment on her face.
“Layla! King Falliro Arini of the Phoenix has come to pay his respects.”
“Should I see him?” Layla blinked, stunned that the King of anything would come to her room to inquire about her health.
“I mean, technically you’re not well, so you could send him away, but he is the Phoenix King.” Rikyava cocked her head, her blonde brows knitting. “You’d be within your rights to refuse to see him, but… King Falliro is exceptionally choosy with those he befriends. His visit is pretty unprecedented.”
“Then I guess I should see him.” Layla tried to swing her legs out of bed to stand, but was immediately swamped by pain surging through her spine. She gasped, her breath catching as Rikyava gave her a tough-love smile and waved her back into bed.
“It’s ok. He’s a shapeshifter. He’ll understand. Just sit tight and look adorable in your robe and I’ll show him in.”
“Is my hair ok?” Layla fretted suddenly, worried that she looked like hell from her convalescence and that it might be a bad way to receive a King.
“Comb twice with your fingers, and then you’re all good.” Rikyava winked, then went to the door.
Layla hastily combed her fingers through her loose curls, getting the snarls out enough that she could brush her long hair over her shoulder, then set her breakfast tray aside upon the bed. Rikyava opened the door and stepped back with a crisp bow, admitting the Phoenix King into the room. Tall and slender, he wasn’t gloriously naked with his gaping feather-robe today but instead was clad in an embroidered robe of midnight-blue silk, woven soft and thick, that covered him fully. The high collar framed his elegant neck, the draping sleeves and long hem reminding Layla of a classic North African men’s caftan, though it was fit slender at the torso and more flared below.
With airy grace, King Falliro moved into the room on his high-arched bare feet, nodding to Rikyava as she closed the door behind him. She moved off, settling in a chair near the fireplace well out of earshot, though she watched their interaction attentively like a bodyguard. King Falliro moved to Layla’s bedside, not sitting but clasping his black-taloned hands and gazing at her. Raising his bright blue crest of feathers, King Falliro’s pale yellow lips eased into a smile as his golden eyes swept Layla. The cobalt down over his face and longer glossy feathers at his temples and cheekbones were similar to Dusk’s Dragon-scale pattern, though a lighter shade. In her mind, Layla heard the call of birds again, though she had a sense King Falliro wasn’t using his active magics – what she felt from him was merely a product of his strange otherness.
“Ms. Price,” King Falliro Arini breathed, the sound of a thousand birds in his hushed, singsong voice. “You are looking very much better than I might have thought. May I sit?”
He gestured elegantly at the bed with one taloned hand, and Layla nodded. “Sure.”
As he sank to a seat, turning so he could face Layla where she rested against the pillows, he set a taloned hand lightly to her leg. A sweet energy like a whispering wind filled with birds chorused through her and Layla took a deep breath. It was calm and elevating, and when she opened her eyes she felt a gentle joy surging through her from the Phoenix King’s magic. He smiled, his cheeks crinkling up until she could see lines at the corners of his eyes beneath his cobalt down, the only thing that belied his age.
“Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” Layla breathed, astounded at the Phoenix King’s amazing energy.
“Good.” He spoke, watching Layla with his strange all-gold eyes. “Though you are unwell and I have come to pay my respects for your illness, I have also come today on a more political matter, Ms. Price. If you would hear me out?”
“Political?” Layla raised her brows. She saw Rikyava tense in her chair by the fireplace, as if she could hear the conversation, but Layla didn’t mind if the Guardswoman was listening. Layla glanced back to King Falliro. “I’ll hear what you have to say, but what do you mean?”
“Good.” His eyes crinkled up again in that wizened, amazing smile, before they sobered. “I have come to speak with you today because I believe you are in danger, Ms. Price. I have not lived three thousand years as King of my Lineage without learning a few things, and from what I felt three nights ago at the Dragon party, I believe that danger lurks in this Hotel. And it is revolving around you.”
“You’re threethousandyears old?” Layla blinked, befuddled. “And what do you mean, danger?”
“Phoenix can regenerate in ash and flame when we die.” He gave a gentle smile. “I have had nearly a dozen bodies. If you ever wonder how old a Phoenix truly is, gaze upon the color of their plumage. The oldest have feathers of dark violet, midnight blue, and black, the youngest are white and gold with reds and oranges. Our plumage shows our wisdom-age, not the age of our current body.”
Layla swallowed, unnerved that she sat before a three thousand year old being. She couldn’t even comprehend that much time. Falliro Arini had been a king of his people when Egypt was still in its golden age. “And you feel I’m in danger?”
“Yes.” He gave a nod, watching her with his piercing eagle-eyes. “All Phoenix have a talent for reading the currents of the air, Ms. Price, much like a Crystal Dragon can read the vibrations of the earth. With it comes an ability to read magical scent. Every Lineage of the Twilight Realm gives off a magical scent, like a fingerprint. I walk in a constant flow of scent-currents, breathing around me as they move. And sometimes, I feel a void in the air.”
“A void?” Layla’s brows knit, not understanding. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” King Falliro smoothed one hand over the duvet, rippling his black talons across it, “that sometimes I feel a hole in all that motion. As if a black void suddenly swallowed all the scents of the wild leaving nothing but emptiness, a place where all the energy stops. Where all the scent and flow on the wind just dies. And in that place, I feel a Royal Dragonshift visage, before they manifest again as someone new.”
“A Royal Dragon who can take on other faces and bodies?” Layla sat up straight, very interested now but still confused. “You mean Adrian?”
“Not Adrian; he is far too young.” The Phoenix King shook his head, his feathered blue crest rising. “What I am describing is a far older phenomenon than your young drake. A phenomenon I have felt since my very first lifetime. And where it manifests… death follows.”
“So you’re saying it’s a Royal Dragon with visage-shifting abilities that you feel when you sense this void – and that it’s over three thousand years old? And what, it’s here in the Hotel, stalking me?”
“Precisely.” King Falliro’s golden gaze pierced Layla, cunning and very sober. “Ever since I arrived four days ago, I have felt it lurking about the Hotel. I catch a moment of the void somewhere in the Hotel and the next moment it is gone. I am unable to pinpoint its whereabouts; it comes and goes very suddenly as the Royal Dragon shifts its appearance. But it was present at the party. I felt it open right near you at one point, and though I turned my head quickly, you were surrounded by a throng, so the person’s exact location was hidden from me. But it has walked your hallway, Layla Price. It has stalked you these past three days while you were recovering. And where this ancient thing goes – misfortune happens.”
“How do you know it so well?” Layla breathed, a dark fear sweeping through her and chilling her to her core. “How do you know that misfortune follows it?”
