“If it hadn’t been for Reeve—”
“Donotstart—”
“He ruined everything five years ago, Mireya. We were so close. We were poised to find it. We would have found it if we hadn’t—”
“I said, don’t start.” The director’s voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip. “He is our son. We’re in this predicament because we loved him, and that means lovingallof him. Even the parts we don’t agree with.”
Elara could feel Signey’s eyes on her face, but she didn’t open her own. Her mind was racing, trying to piece together this new information. What did Reeve have to do with the commander’s plan to raise the First Dragon?
We were so close. We were poised to find it.
Ifitwas the Empty, how had Reeve stopped them from finding it during the war? He had never even heard of it until researching with Faron… right?
She shook her head. She trusted Reeve, more than almosteveryone. He would never lie to her. Whatever his parents had planned or were planning, he wasn’t involved.
“Perhaps we should pay Barret a visit. He was useful before. He should prove useful again.”
“The Mausoleum hasn’t been kind to him. I don’t think he’s the man he once was.”
The commander sighed. “He’s lucky that we need him alive.”
It was only when Signey began to tremble against her that Elara realized Barret must be her father. Before she could do anything, her Firstrider was already on the move, shoving open the doors so hard that the glass in them almost shattered against the inside wall. Elara cursed and hurried after her. Commander Warwick looked surprised, but, beside him, Director Mireya Warwick was a blank slate.
This was the first time that Elara had seen Reeve’s mother up close, and she could immediately see the resemblance between them. The director was a pale-skinned woman, her dark hair in loose curls that framed her face. Her eyes were mahogany, her eyebrows thin and expertly arched. She was tall, like Reeve, with a swanlike neck, and she wore a black leather wristband with an emerald dragon’s-eye.
“Let me talk to him, sir,” Signey said. She sounded so confident, so fearless, that even Elara almost believed she’d come here with a purpose. But she could feel Signey’s nerves across the bond, and she sent as much silent encouragement back as she could. It was too late to do anything but commit to this course of action. “If he’ll come back to his old self for anyone, you know it will be me.”
Commander Warwick stared at her, clearly trying to figure out how much she had overheard. Elara stepped closer to her Firstrider,ready to fight their way out if they had to. At the back of her mind, she felt Zephyra shift, concerned.
But Signey lifted her chin. “I don’t know what’s happening, sir, but I am one of the top students at Hearthstone. I managed the dragon bond by myself for over a decade before I found my Wingleader, and I’m one of the youngest recipients of the medal of valor in history. I’m a scion of the Soto Dynasty and, above all, I’m Barret Soto’s youngest and only surviving daughter. If you need information from my father, I’m the person to send, whether you trust me with the full details of this mission or not. Consider it my final exam.”
It was so quiet that the distant sounds of the party, clinking glasses and classical music, drifted across the grounds. Elara could hear her own heart beating loudly in her chest, hear Signey’s racing across the bond as the Warwicks weighed the consequences of her offer.
Finally, Mireya Warwick said, “All right. I’ll get you clearance for a visit to the Mausoleum. I’ll allow you to see your father. But in return, the information you seek must not be shared with anyone aside from us and our dragons. Your den included. Believe me, Miss Soto”—her eyes were like gaping pits in the dark—“Gavriel, Irontooth, and I will know if you cross us.”
“We won’t,” said Signey.
“We won’t,” Elara echoed, uneasy over how quickly the Warwicks had given in to this demand. Either Barret Soto had information they needed very badly… or they didn’t expect Elara and Signey to come back.
The commander slid a hand around his wife’s waist. She leaned into him, and he smiled at them in a way that was both amused and deeply ominous. “Let’s return to the party, then. After all, you’re the guests of honor.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
FARON
SWEAT COOLED ONFARON’S SKIN AS SHE ANDREEVE LEFT THEdance to make their way back to Renard Hall. She still felt light as air even now, as if she were flying down the street, as if the rhythm of the bass had pressed itself into her very soul. Her body felt warm everywhere that he’d touched her: her hands, her back, her sides, her wrist. Their hug replayed behind her eyes despite her best efforts to shut it out. It had been a good night. One of the best she’d had in months.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a while,” Reeve said, pulling her gently back down to earth. “I’m glad.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Your sister told me to keep an eye on you.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you had to drag yourself down here with me.”
Reeve hummed thoughtfully, scanning the street as though memorizing Seaview for his personal records. “I had my own reasons for being out tonight.”
“You could’ve gone alone.” The chill of the night began to creep back in, the sweat on her skin more uncomfortable than satisfying.Years. She’d hated him for years. And what did tonight change? Nothing. Not really. “I know you don’t like me.”
