“Some shifters used to live here,” he said it briefly, as if he did not wish to discuss it any further. “The queen has not objected to us using it for drunken revelry. Perhaps because she does not know, though that seems unlikely.”
It felt as if we were careening wildly down toward the ground, but then we landed with surprising grace. The rest of Amber landed around us, a field full of dragons that towered over us all, and I was small in their shadow for a few heartbeats before they were men and women once more.
“Do you really think I’ll be claimed by a dragon?” I asked him, thinking of his earlier comment about my fierce dragon.
“Certainly. Even dragons have a morbid sense of curiosity.”
He led me on to the top floor of the tiered dance floor. More levels spread out around us, seeming to bloom from the incredibly tall, ancient trees; they were all full of shifters laughing, dancing, drinking. On one level in the center with musicians playing.
His hand brushed the small of my back as he guided me forward. Not possessive, but claiming. Letting everyone in the glittering, vicious crowd know I was his guest. His recruit.
His victory over Fieran, most of all.
Firefly-like lights drifted above the dancers, responding to the music’s rhythm, flaring brighter with each rise of the strings, and dimming on the low drumbeats.
The music changed.
Just slightly. A beat missed.
Or maybe it was my imagination, my heart too attuned to his presence.
Fieran stood just inside the entrance, dressed in purple-trimmed black, hair swept back from his brow, his clan behind him. His eyes scanned the room once and landed on me.
My heart stuttered.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t warm.
But it hooked something inside me just the same.
I turned my back on Fieran, looking to Ander.
“You’ve been brave to stand between two dragons.” Ander held two flagons of spiced wine, one of which he handed toward me. “Now you’ll have to be clever.”
I took the wine. “Fae wine won’t poison me?”
“No. But it might make you look more…comfortable…and less like you’ve been propped upright at your own funeral.” Ander’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
“It does feel that way,” I murmured. “Introduce me to your clan? I’ve been sleeping in the servants’ quarters in Bismyth?—”
When Ander’s eyes flared with anger, Ipaused.
He seemed to register his impact on me and relaxed, or tried to force the appearance, at least. “Well. That doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve got proper rooms with our clan. Where you belong.”
I nodded. Fieran’s gaze burned on my back, but I didn’t turn back toward him.
Ander gave me his arm. I slipped my hand over his hard forearm, and together we walked toward a knot of shifters who stood together.
Two tall women—one sturdy and muscular, one narrow and elegant like a dancer—turned toward us.
The narrow one smiled at me. “So you’re the mortal girl.” Her voice was more curious than contemptuous, but it was a fine line.
“Half-mortal,” the taller one corrected. “Or she wouldn’t be able to carry the mark.”
“Ash, Willa. They’re usually not so rude.” Ander told me, and Ash gave him a baleful smile. “Cara.”
“Pleased to have you in our clan.” Ash managed to sound sincere.
