Without it, you could justify damn near anything if you put the right spin on it. A part of Tate felt like she’d already fallen into this trap once. Perhaps that’s why her former friends were so willing to put her to sleep—because she’d forgotten the core of who she was while trying to run from the reality of the situation.
Those near Tate pulled away as whispers of dragon-ridden traveled through the crowd. They created a small, open circle around Tate. Hostility built, growing as more and more people took notice.
Tate’s hands clenched and then loosened. “I apologize if my actions created any confusion or pain. It was not my intent.”
Anger simmered under the surface of the crowd. Tate didn’t think it was enough to compel them to attack her right now, but she worried about whether this incident would fester in the future.
The dragon-ridden walked an uneasy balance between being respected and feared. If the scale tipped too much to the fear side, it could very well create the conditions ripe for an uprising. If the entire city turned against them, how long would it be before its streets ran red with blood?
Tate, I found him. He’s next in line for the elevators.
Shit. Time was running out.
Stay or go?
She reached into her jacket pocket, withdrawing a token that had a dragon engraved on it. “Hand this to the emperor’s guards and they’ll give you recompense. Unfortunately, time is pressing, and I must go or I’d do it myself.”
Tate didn’t know if it was enough of a gesture. Truthfully, she felt a bit like a sleaze offering money for what she’d done. A villain would think everything could be solved with money. Unfortunately, it also was her only option to get out of the situation quickly.
Not waiting for their reaction, Tate sprinted toward the front of the line, the crowd parting before her. There. Peter was just about to step onto the elevator.
Drawn by the commotion in the crowd, he looked over his shoulder. Tate expected surprise. Maybe a little fear that a dragon-ridden was dashing straight at him, no sign of stopping.
There was none of that as he stepped out of line and backed toward the cliff’s edge between the two elevators. The elevator Peter had been in the process of boarding started its descent. Its companion beginning to rise from below.
With nowhere for Peter to escape to, Tate gradually slowed her advance, stopping when she was within a few feet of him. “You’re going to need to come with me, Peter.”
Peter turned away from her, facing the bay and the ocean beyond. He spread his arms. “What do you see when you look at all this?”
It was a question Tate might expect from Christopher but not Peter. It didn’t fit his personality, which was quiet and reserved.
“Why did you attack the palace?”
He looked over his shoulder with a sincere smile. “I see potential.”
Instinct warned Tate as she jolted forward. Not soon enough. A cutting blade of white light arrowed at the cable of an elevator, sawing it in half instantly.
Peter dove off the cliff.
Tate ran forward, spotting him standing on the top of the second elevator, his face tilted up.
“Time to choose, Savior.”
She could try to save the people on the other elevator or she could go after him. There wasn’t time to do both.
“Saviors’ curse it,” Tate spat.
Several more strands of the cable started to snap. Screams came from those inside the elevator.
“Ilith.”
Tate stepped off the cliff’s edge; Ilith roared to ascendancy.
* * *
Stupid, foolish Savior.
Ilith dug her claws into the cliff side, stopping her descent. Grumbling to herself, she crawled headfirst down the cliff until she reached the metal monstrosity her Savior referred to as an elevator.
