Only fools failed to notice Niall Balfour. The stories mentioned that, too, along with bloodcurdling tales of him stepping from the shadows to deliver judgment.
And now, he positioned himself in that role once more. And my dad let him. Their message was as clear as a shout: fathers or not, Niall was prepared to enforce whatever judgment Cormac handed down.
Against me, their own daughter. Theproblem childof the dragon race.
“This looks serious,” I said, forcing levity I didn’t feel into my voice. “Am I being executed?”
“Portia,” my mother chided softly, coming to me and taking my hand. “Your fathers and I just want to speak with you. Come sit down.”
Mum’s eyes were as soft as her voice, but I heard the edge of steel in her words. The queen had just given me an order. Disobedience wasn’t an option.
I let her lead me to one of the chairs, and I perched on the edge as she resumed her seat. My dragon stirred under my skin, my beast responding to the tension in the study.
Dad’s expression was mild as he leaned back in his chair. “It’s a chilly one out there today.”
He knew I’d gone flying, of course. All three of them knew. The question was, howmuchdid they know?
“Yes,” I said carefully.
Mum looked at me, her stare the same one she’d given my brother and me whenever we’d done something messy or dangerous. “Portia, honey, we’ve asked you not to fly near those stones.”
Part of me had anticipated the accusation, but it still hit like a slap. I swung my gaze to my father. “More spies?” He’d ordered guards to tail me. It was the only way he could have known I flew over the stones.
“Protection,” he said, his voice as hard and cold as it had been on the battlements.
In my mind, my dragon lashed her tail in agitation. I was an apex predator among immortals and mortals alike. But if my parents had their way, I’d stay in my bedroom and knit sweaters. Or better yet, marry a pair of dragons and produce as many children as possible.
“I’m twenty-three years old,” I said. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
My father’s expression didn’t change, but anger crackled around him. “You flew within ten feet of the stones. The humans could have seen you. But even if they hadn’t, those stones possess old magic. You dabble in things you don’t understand, Portia.”
I squeezed the arms of my chair. “I’m careful?—”
“You’re reckless,” he said. “The blood of a thousand generations of witches flows through my veins, and even I give those stones a wide berth. You’re an infant among the Firstborn Races. You have much to learn.”
“I’m not a child?—”
“Then stop acting like one.”
My blood pumped faster. “Maybe I act like a child because you treat me like I’m incompetent. Malcolm has lived in America forfive years, and you’ve never set spies on him!”
Father’s eyes glinted, his irises like obsidian. “Your brother has never given us a reason to. For one thing, he’s not a liar.”
“Niall!” Mum protested.
My father kept talking, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Malcolm doesn’t need protection because he doesn’t repeatedly put himself in harm’s way. Moreover, he’s not reckless about being seen. You, on the other hand, know damn well you can’t control your beast, and yet you insist on flying without a stronger dragon to rein you in.”
Heat flashed in my face. Humiliation and shame threatened to put tears in my eyes. But I squeezed the chair, refusing to let them come.
My father wasn’t finished. He listed my transgressions, each sentence landing like a lash. “You scorched that abandoned shed on the mainland. You shifted in front of those American tourists?—”
“And the Belgians,” my dad said softly.
“—and you took shadow form in the middle of Edinburgh when that car backfired.”
The heat in my cheeks flared higher. “I’m getting better,” I muttered.
“Better?” My father’s voice was dangerously soft, as it always was when he was truly furious. “You lost control at the sight of me. That’s not improvement, Portia. That’s proof you can’t be trusted to fly alone.”
