“That was even ruder!” I snap.
Karis presses the off button, and outrage starts to surge through me until I notice that the butterflies are still flapping around like they’re blatantly disregarding the command to stop. The big Thrasher aims the remote at them this time and tries the off button again, but still nothing happens.
“It’s keyed to the dragoness’s biometrics,” Azo offers cheerfully.
I can’t tell if that’s the human’s default personality setting or if this is his passive aggressive way of sayingnanny nanny boo booto the drake that’s trying to ruin all of his and Nixy’s hard work.
“Escort him out,” Karis tells Farrow, and alarm permeates my indignation when Farrow grabs Azo by the arm and drags him away.
“What’s your problem?” I demand, growing even more pissed by the second because I want to stop what’s happening, but I’m worried if I try, it will show my hand and make everything worse.
“Aside from your mystery message to the king, your attack butterflies, or the fact that the human and the wyvern facilitated an unauthorized transmission to someone in the southern territories, I don’t have any problems. You, on the other hand, have some serious explaining to do. But that’s the commander’s problem, not mine. Let’s go.”
My heart drops like a cannonball into my stomach. I lock down every voluntary reaction I have and force myself to inhale and exhale evenly until any involuntary sign of panic or guilt is crushed under the force of my ironclad resolve to give nothing away.
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan, desperate to throw him off. “Now answer my question truthfully this time.”
Karis gives me a look that makes it clear he’s not buying anything I’m trying to sell.
“Are you going to turn those off?” he asks, obnoxiously unfazed as he holds out the remote to me and nods at the winged security system gliding gently around me.
I let my gaze fill with a silent yet unmistakablefuck youand cross my arms in answer.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Karis grumbles before he turns and walks away, the remote to my dress still clutched in his hand.
I have no choice but to follow, my heels clacking annoyingly on the dragon stone floor as I go. I need to warn Nixy, but as quickly as that thought surfaces, I already know it’s impossible. Even if I tried, I’d only dig a deeper hole for her and Azo. As much as I hate it, their best bet is for me to pretend like I don’t care for now and then set things up so I can fall on my sword for them later.
My mind gets busy trying to spin things into a story that’s true enough to stand up to a Thrasher’s lie detector abilities while exonerating Nixy and her assistant. Hopefully, they have contingency plans in place to destroy evidence and cover their tracks in the event something like this happened.
I trail after the big grumpy Thrasher until I’m once again surrounded by guards and being led out of the rookery. The halls and elevators we take are all familiar, but the final destination is not. Everyone is silent as we make our way, either due to vigilance or because they’re pissed like I am. When we stop at a pair of towering golden doors, I know my time is up. On the other side of this threshold is the king, The Horde, and the scion I agreed to mate. My past and my future are about to collide, and I have no idea who will be left standing in the wake of the impact. I’m also not sure I even care anymore.
“Ready?” someone asks me, but I don’t turn to see who.
I pull in a deep breath, raise my chin, and put my shoulders back as I whisper beneath my breath. “Spark the flames. Ignite the infernos. Ash the embers.”
And then, the doors open.
Chapter 38
THE FEW TIMES I ENVISIONED what it would be like to walk into a cavernous ballroom filled to the brim with The Horde, I always thought it would be the sheer number of bodies that would intimidate me. Turns out I was wrong, because when hundreds of drakes turn to watch me make my way down a carpeted aisle toward the king, it isn’t the quantity that puts me on edge, it’s the silence.
I was told about the reverence of a Naming. I knew it wasn’t a loud and boisterous affair, but I didn’t expect this. I could hear a feather fall in this kind of quiet, and it’s beyond unsettling. A group this size shouldn’t be this reticent, this subdued. They’re drakes for fuck’s sake. Back home, the Syphons aren’t even this static and soundless in our sleep.
My ears ring from the stifled stillness the same way they would if someone was howling directly into my ears. Every step I take, every breath I steal, is so loud it’s like I’m screaming into an abyss. My pulse sounds more like a drum core that’s playing a final dirge as I march to my end.
Power permeates the room, unbridled, viscous, heavy. The deeper I move into the massive hall, the more it’s like I’m wading against the strong current of a stream. My pace slows to accommodate the force, and it looks as though I’m taking a casual stroll, when the truth is I wish I were sprinting down this aisle and right out the fucking back door.
With effort, I move against a tide of riches and finery. I overlook the jewels, the fancy hair, the perusing gazes. I ignore the stunning suits and gowns that appear to be made of sparkling droplets of water, delicate flowers, or bone-charring flames. All of it tries to tease my attention from the dais and the three occupied thrones waiting for me at the end of my yawning trek. But my focus stays on the king.
I walk a gauntlet designed to feel daunting as mute onlookers keenly watch my every move. Most drakes do this as children, although usually they don’t do it alone. In the territories, the noble houses preside over a quarterly Naming Day where all eligible children take their turn being Named and Claimed by their clan, kith, and kindred.
Here in Four Tiers, the king lords over the nobles’ children and their big reveal. If the failed uprising had never happened and my father hadn’t been killed, I would have undertaken this rite of passage hand in hand with my sister, surrounded by the other Syphon children. Instead, I walk this path alone—something that’s starting to feel all too common and all too disheartening.
My thoughts want to drift to Enslee, to my Flight and what might be happening to them at the hands of Wistan and his Tainted, but I quickly lock all of that up and shove it as far away as possible so I can focus on the task at hand.
The king’s face is like a stoic beacon that I tether myself to. I can feel Aeson’s gaze branding me as I draw closer, but I’m not ready to face him. The king would have told him by now that I’ve agreed to be his mate. The commander could be smug—resigned is an option too—or maybe he’s completely indifferent. Whatever his reaction, I’m not interested in finding out just yet.
I tell myself it won’t matter if he doesn’t actually want me, if he resents the part he played in all of this, a part he played so well that he’s stuck with it now…stuck with me. It won’t bother me in the slightest if I was right all along. But another voice, one buried deep in my chest where it’s been trapped since I can remember, growls a definitive and undeniable…Mine.
