“Patrick is Tangelo Fox. He serves as my Firetender while he’s writing new music. By living with me, he feeds off my creative energy, and in exchange, he serves me. It’s a symbiotic and sacred relationship.”
I lick my lips, trying to get my head around this. “Sorry, are you saying he works as your servant for free in exchange for just being near you?”
He shrugs. “More or less.”
I blink slowly, shaking my head in disbelief. “That’s insane. He’s got to be worth millions. Why on earth would he be here fixing you dinner and washing your undies?”
Seb snorts. “Who said he washes my undies?”
“I just assumed.”
“Maybe I don’t wear any.”
My face feels hot. I deeply regret the use of the word undies in this conversation.
His answering smile is dripping with mirth. “If you want to know why Patrick does what he does, feel free to ask him. He’s a free person who does as he wishes. I’m sure he’d tell you all you want to know about the state of my undies.”
While I’m recovering and trying my best to use X-ray vision to know for sure if he is wearing underwear, Seb rises from his seat and grabs a box off a nearby table. It’s one movement. A human would push their chair back, stand, walk to the credenza, pick up the box. Seb slips out of the chair and retrieves the box with the grace of a dancer, or maybe a serpent. His movements are completely silent. He doesn’t bump the table. The way he moves, it’s clear he’s not a man. He’s a dragon. And I’m suddenly aware of him in a new way.
His relationship with Patrick is just one signpost that I am journeying into wonderland. I don’t know the rules here. I don’t understand his species. I need to remember that. I need to apologize for touching him without permission today.
“Sebastian, I—” My voice comes out as a croak, and he doesn’t hear me. He gently squares the box on the table in front of me as if there’s a live bomb inside it.
“Once you open this box, I won’t be able to touch the contents. The ring inside is cursed and poisonous to my kind. Absolutely lethal. The vial inside contains water that seems to have a conflicting enchantment. Both are a mystery to us. We need you to use your magic to analyze these objects so that we can understand how they work.”
“How they work? Can you explain more? What is your ultimate goal?”
He blows out a deep breath. “We want a way to defend ourselves against it. To be honest, we don’t know what to ask for because we don’t understand what is possible, only that this magic is killing us.”
I try to process all of this. “The ring is poisonous to you. In what way? Like if it’s put on your finger?”
He shakes his head. “It’s true that if I touch it, it will burn me, but the real danger is that every member of the Saint’s Order has one of these rings and can turn it into a weapon. If that weapon breaks our skin, it infects us with a poison that has to be extracted or we die.”
I squint at him. Did I hear that right? “You say the ring transforms into a weapon. What sort of weapon?”
“Sometimes a sword, sometimes a dagger, sometimes a bow with arrows, sometimes a spear.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Has nothing to do with it. Honestly, this magic is dark, Zoe. It makes my skin crawl.”
I reach forward and pull the box toward me. He takes a big step back as I lift the lid, and I understand why the moment there is no longer a barrier between me and the ring. A deep sense of dread washes over me. The closest thing I can relate it to is when my grandfather died and I had to approach the open casket. My stomach drops, my skin goes cold, and I’m gripped by an intense unease. I reach out to hover my fingers over the ring, and I hear Seb inhale sharply.
“Is there any evidence that this will hurt me if I touch it?”
“I don’t know. My brother’s mate is human, but he won’t let her touch it. The only people we know who have touched it are order members, after they’ve been initiated. We don’t know if the initiation makes them immune to the effects or if the effects are what make them all murderous assholes.”
I decide not to touch the ring, just to be safe. It’s a relief, actually. The closer my fingertips came to it, the stronger the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. “I think I’ll skip being the guinea pig on this one. I’d rather not be tainted by whatever dark energy is bleeding off this thing.”
“Good idea.”
I shift my fingers to the other side of the box, to the vial. Instantly, my skin feels cool, as if I’ve dipped my hand in ice water. This, I pick up and hold to the light. The water refracts with rainbow colors edged in gold. It reminds me of the light I’ve seen when I transcend to the Gold Room, the golden goddess’s plane of existence.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“This—” I lift the vial a little “—is celestial in nature. I’m not sure of its magical properties yet, but the source of the magic is the goddess.”
“The goddess?”
