Tate struggled to conceal her smirk as Ben started after his partner.
It wasn’t her fault George had lost their little game. If she didn’t want her little toy tamed, she shouldn’t have taken it out in the first place.
Only when she was sure they couldn’t see her face did her expression fade as she glanced down at the hand that had held the Torment, feeling as if it belonged to someone else. She didn’t know what that was all about. How she could suddenly see the invisible dark light or how she could force those tendrils to obey.
One thing was clear. Something about her abilities had changed when it came to relics.
* * *
It didn’t take long after the confrontation before they approached their destination. Two statues flanked the staircase, their right arms uplifted as they reached toward each other, their hands almost, but not quite, touching. Less than an inch wide gap separated their fingers.
Tate found herself drawn to the statues. The one on the right wore a full-bodied armor Tate recognized from her memories. Its like had probably not been seen for centuries. Slimmer fitting and less bulky than the armor the soldiers wore today, it clung to the man’s figure, protecting every inch of him. Only his face was visible, strain written on the strong plains of his features. Duty was stamped in the jut of his jaw and line of his mouth.
He looked resigned yet determined.
By contrast, the woman appeared frozen in time as an invisible wind whipped hair across her face, concealing her features. Instead of armor, she wore a shapeless shift that fluttered in that same breeze.
Although it was impossible to read her expression, Tate thought she could see desperation in her pose. Something about it unsettled her, though she couldn’t tell if that was a result of her increasingly antsy dragon, the issue with George’s blade, or a product of their surroundings.
There was a feel in the air that was hard to define, putting Tate on edge and stringing her nerves so tight she thought they might snap given the slightest provocation.
“We’re here,” George stated, coming to a stop.
Preoccupied with the statues, Tate almost missed the group waiting a few steps above the monuments. Several faces she wasn’t expecting turned to look at them.
Before she could get more than a glance at the rest, Dewdrop waved at her, breaking from the crowd and rushing up the stairs. “Finally. We’ve been waiting forever. The muckety mucks were beginning to get anxious.”
“What are you doing here?” Tate asked, looking over his shoulder to find Roslyn and Ryu slowly making their way over to them.
“That’s a good question. I’d really like to know that myself,” Dewdrop said, glaring at Ryu.
Tate lifted her eyebrows at the dragon, who offered her an enigmatic look.
“The emperor requested your presence. It was only appropriate to summon a member of your retinue until you could attend,” Ryu explained in a bland voice.
“Is that so?”
Roslyn’s gaze flitted between the two, picking up on the undercurrent. She stepped forward. “The Lord Ryuji is correct. When a noble is delayed in their duties, it’s acceptable to send a representative until such time as you can be present.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” George said.
Roslyn squared her shoulders, meeting George’s hostility with a calm gaze. “I was with the Duke of Spiritly when he got the news.”
Tate perked up in interest, glancing in the Duke’s direction. Did that mean Roslyn had been successful in relaying her request? One could only hope.
Roslyn’s serene poise was admirable as she met George’s stare with a confident one of her own. “Since I’ve often been called to provide advice to Lady Fisher, he felt it only necessary for my presence as well.”
George’s lip curled. “You were always good at involving yourself in situations that had nothing to do with you.”
For the second time that night, George brushed past Roslyn like she was nothing but trash on the street. Roslyn held herself rigid, her expression unnaturally calm as she pretended that George’s behavior wouldn’t affect her or her emotions. As if it wouldn’t send pain stabbing at her heart.
“Someone is a tad grumpy,” Dewdrop remarked, breaking the silence that had fallen.
“Did you know the dragon slayer has never actually killed a dragon before?” Tate asked, apropos of nothing.
Dewdrop’s eyebrows shot up as ridicule flashed across his face. “What sort of misleading title is that? It’s like calling someone a master thief when they’ve never stolen so much as a piece of paper.”
See—Tate wasn’t the only one who thought it was ridiculous.
