I studied his bookcase, finding a complete set of compendiums, one for each of the nine clans. No. Eight.
There was no book of Clan Amber dragons.
He had known what dragon would choose Ander. He’d studied them. Why wouldn’t that book be here?
I glanced over at him, still sleeping in the bed, his arm thrown wide as if he were waiting for me to come back into bed and snuggle my head into his side. I opened the drawers of his desk, moving quietly.
No book.
I moved to his wardrobe, searching beneath his soap-scented tunics and the cloaks that still carried the scent of dragon smoke. There was nothing—and then the ring glowed between my breasts with throbbing warmth, and a secret compartment popped open.
I stared down at it, then looked over my shoulder at him.
Sneaky little mortal, indeed. His accusation wasn’t wrong.
I shifted aside letters, a few trinkets, and a tattered stuffed crow. My heart seized on that last one, realizing he’d not only kept some childhood toy, but also hidden it.
There was a Clan Amber compendium with an ancient cover I’d never seen before, the gilt half worn off the edges of the pages. I lifted it free.
Wearing his tunic, which hung loose on me, I stepped out into the hall and headed down toward the common room that had once been forbidden to me, hoping to find Kiegan.
But as I walked past an open doorway, I sensed movement. “Cara?”
He came to the doorway just as I reached it, the two of us almost collided. He froze, something unreadable flickering across his face. Nervousness, maybe? It was always hard for me to read him, given how different the two of us were.
He stepped back into the room. “I was just looking through those dragon books. What are you doing here?”
“It used to be my home too,” I said tartly. The sharpness in my tone was an obvious tell that I felt guilty about waking up in Fieran’s quarters.
“I know. I wish it still was.”
His gaze flicked to the tunic I was wearing.
I touched my hair, which was hopelessly tousled. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Wouldn’t care if it was,” he assured me.
Neither of us seemed convinced by that statement.
“The books,” I said, somewhat desperately, thrusting the one I’d just stolen ahead of me like a shield. “Do you have any idea which dragon might be yours?”
He gave a small shrug. “I think I’ll be lucky to get a dragon at all.”
“You thought no one would choose you at the ceremony, and yet Fieran chose you first.”
He gave me a baleful look. “I wonder why that was.”
“You were a good choice. You rose in the Trials. Of course one of the dragons is going to choose you. I think maybe Ironheart would be a good fit. He hasn’t chosen anyone in a while, but he’s always drawn to the more…special shifters.”
“Special,” Kiegan repeated dryly.
“I don’t have any brilliant ideas for how to draw Ironheart. But you’re solitary like he is, and kind, and driven by your conscience.”
He blushed. I couldn’t believe he actually blushed. “I don’t think so.”
He stood and shoved the other books into my hands, as if he wanted to get me out of there before I could possibly compliment him again.
I took them but didn’t leave. “Do you want me to go? Or is it okay if I stay here? If I don’t talk?”
