“Where’s Briony?” Thorne says.
I snatch my gaze away from the fight in front of me and toward the spot our little mate had been occupying only a moment ago.
A spot that is now empty.
“Shit.” I peer around our little group, hoping she’s simply moved to talk to her friend. She hasn’t. And Fly is also swinging his gaze around, peering through the crowd. Briony is small, and it would be impossible to see her if she were lost, swamped somewhere among the multitude people.
I begin to push my way through, Dray and Thorne and Fly all doing the same. Several of the important dignitaries around me tut and voice their disapproval, but I ignore them, continuing to sweep my gaze backward and forward, searching for her.
Finally I emerge on the other side of the crowd, Dray, Thorne, and Fly emerging only a moment later.
“She’s not there?” I say, asking just as much as I am confirming that I haven’t found her.
They all shake their heads.
“Where the fuck has she gone now?” I mutter. Flying off to the demon wastelands on the back of a dragon was stupid, misguided, and probably suicidal. And wandering the corridors of the palace alone is probably just as bad.
I squeeze my eyes shut. The grounds of the palace are immense. The palace itself is sprawling. She could be anywhere – easily lost.
“I’ve got her scent,” Dray says. “Beaufort, did you hear me?”
I snap open my eyes and glare at him. “What the fuck are you waiting for then?”
Dray glares right back at me, but then he’s sniffing the air and jogging back toward the trees that mark the edge of the formal palace gardens.
We hurry after him, Briony’s tall, skinny friend soon falling behind.
When we reach the formal gardens, we catch a glimpse of her in the distance, almost at the palace itself.
“Briony!” I yell.
I see her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t halt her pace, so I yell her name again, this time louder and with a hell of a lot more authority. She stops and spins around to face us, her arms crossed over her chest.
And I wonder what in all the realm I’ve done wrong now.
“What the hell are you doing?” I bark as we race up toward her.
“I couldn’t just stand there and watch that,” she says, her face full of disgust. “I couldn’t stand and watch it for a moment longer. That’s sick. He was being hurt.”
“What? Who?” I say, narrowing my eyes.
“The ordinary. The ordinary they were making fight the shadow weaver.”
“Little Kitten,” Dray says, with a smile that even I can see verges on patronizing, “he wasn’t being forced. He’ll earn big money taking on that fight.”
“And losing an arm and a leg and an eye in the process,” she kicks back. “That doesn’t mean I should have stood there.”
“And that doesn’t mean you should have stormed off,” I snap at her. “The palace is a dangerous place. You can’t just go wandering off alone.”
“Dangerous?” she says. “This is your home, Beaufort. How could it be dangerous?”
How do I even begin to explain the politics of the palace? We have our allies; we also have our enemies. And sometimes it’s unclear who is who.
“Trust me, Briony,” I say. “It just is.”
She tosses her head in frustration. “Then take me back to the apartment, Beaufort.”
I nod. “If the rest of you want to stay and watch–”
