“Zander Wraithwing says that you have the three sisters and they may have one of Darnuith’s most precious but missing historical artifacts, the golden grimoire.”
“There is a golden grimoire, but it isn’t Darnuith’s. It was left to the three sisters by their ancestor Medea.” Colin shook his head again, fighting the fog that kept clogging up his thoughts. He had to concentrate to think.
Penelope’s smile grew wider. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand. An honorable dragon like you was sure to see the truth of it. Medea was our queen, and the three sisters are witches and her descendants. Therefore, by law, citizens of Darnuith. When Medea left the grimoire to them, she was leaving it to us.”
“I don’t think… I, uh, I’ll have to talk to Raven. Truth is, we haven’t even found it yet.” The room grew hot. He tugged at the collar of his shirt.
She giggled and shrugged in the most charming way. It made him smile. “A clever man like you must have some idea where it is.”
He blinked rapidly against a shimmer that surrounded her like an aura. “It’s here,” he said. “Somewhere, locked in a grave in Rogos. We have a crypt key, but we need the three sisters to translate the sacred scroll to know which tomb it fits.”
“The scribe was helping you, wasn’t she?”
“Leena helped me find the scroll and was curating it while the three sisters attempted to break the enchantment over it.”
“So why are you back here?” Her voice rang like a bell, and her warm smile never faltered.
“Leena wanted to go home. She was… afraid of how the greater world was changing her. I was escorting her back to the temple.”
“Hmm. But you need her?”
“In more ways than one,” he said softly.
Penelope rubbed her fingers lightly over her left collarbone, above the neckline of her dress. “You will find the grimoire, Colin. I just know you will. And when you do, you’ll bring it to me.”
“I, uh…” He couldn’t make any promises, but he couldn’t think of the words to tell her so.
“There then, it’s all settled.” She patted his arm, and he wondered when she’d crossed the room. “I’m so glad we had this talk.”
She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. His eyebrows shot up, and he smiled after her as she opened the door and floated from the room.
Only after she was gone did a fresh waft of air come through the door and clear his head. He frowned. Had he just promised her the grimoire? No. No, he hadn’t. But she’d wanted him to. She’d used her magic, hoping the influence would hold, consciously or unconsciously.
Even though it hadn’t completely worked, he hated how much he wanted to give her the grimoire right then. He could just imagine how it would make her smile. He stepped out of the staging room, shaking off the last remnants of the interaction and knowing one thing for certain—there was more than one reason Queen Penelope was interested in the Defenders of the Goddess, and all of them needed to be very careful around her.
He accepted a bubbly yellow drink in a tall glass from a passing server and watched the ballroom fill fast with people from all over Rogos, everyone dressed in their finest. Colin recognized Quanling Marjory, dressed in a yellow gown that made her skin look sallow. He wondered if that was a purposeful compromise. The scribe leader couldn’t wear her robes at the function, but she could wear a dress that made her look just as pious.
Colin scanned the crowd for Niall. If he could speak to the high lord again, if only for a few minutes, he could ask about Darnuith and how he’d met Queen Penelope. Working with the two kingdoms would require a gentle hand, but they’d all have to be in lockstep if they were to overcome Paragon’s dragons.
If Niall was among the crowd, though, Colin didn’t notice because before he could find the high lord of the elves, his gaze locked on to a vision in midnight blue floating into the room.Leena. Her dark copper hair had been freed from its usual braid and lay in soft curls that rested on bare shoulders, fire against ice. Her dress was strapless and hugged her figure, skimming her legs to her ankles and parting over her left knee when she walked. From her fingers, a matching satchel dangled, large enough to hold the scrolls she swore she never left behind. It made him smile to think of her dedication even while the sight of her silky, pale skin made his dragon coil and chuff within him. He scratched his arms through his suit to distract from the prickle of his heated blood.
Leena’s violet eyes met his, her inner light making them violently purple, as bright as the lamps burning on the walls. Only, as soon as she saw him, her smile faded. He tried not to take it personally. Had he spent less time with her, he might have thought she hated him. But that wasn’t hate he saw in her expression—it was fear. She wanted to hate him. It would make things far easier for her. Bastard that he was, he wouldn’t let that happen.
He started for her, cutting through the crowd of faceless guests, unable to see anyone but her. Her gaze darted around the room, looking for a lifeline, anything to avoid facing him again. One more night. Tomorrow, she’d leave with her Quanling, her replacement would be assigned, and he likely wouldn’t ever see her again.
One more night to feel the temptation she’d made it clear to him she wanted to avoid.
One more night to change her mind and win her over.
Turned out his dragon was okay with being a bastard.
“You look stunning,” he said when he finally reached her.
Her eyes flicked down to her toes. “I’d rather be in my robes, and I can’t walk in these shoes, but I’m told this is expected of me.”
He frowned. He hated the idea that her upbringing had made it so she couldn’t even enjoy one night of glitz and glamour. She’d always feel like she should be wrapped in burlap even when she was clearly a queen. “Well, we all have to do what is expected of us. I guess the dress is just one more worldly experience you can leave behind when you’re back at the temple.”
She smoothed a hand over the already smooth material at her waist. “Yes. It shouldn’t be long now. Actually, I should try to find my Quanling. I’m sure Marjory will be happy to escort me home and name my replacement.”
