He storms out of the room, taking Ogdan with him, and the door slams hard behind them. I’m left staring after Aeson, my mouth open in shock and my temper building into a bonfire of rage.
Is he serious? Done playing around?
“Well, that makes two of us, asshole,” I grumble, stomping the rest of the way across the room and grabbing the door handle.
My rage becomes a wildfire. One I have every intention of incinerating Aeson Noctis in when the door doesn’t open and I realize he just locked me in here.
Motherfucking dragon.
I pound on the door until my fists are guaranteed to bruise, and then I give it a few heel kicks for good measure, but no one answers my enraged summons. I plot vicious retribution and growl a steady stream of curses as I crouch down in front of the door knob and examine it. Threading my fingers through my hair, I pull out a few of the pins helping to keep everything in place.
Good thing I know how to pick a lock.
Chapter 39
MUSIC AND CHATTER TICKLE MY senses as I survey my Naming party from the shadows of a side entrance no one is paying attention to. Drakes dance in the center of the large ballroom or mill about around its edges. It’s all very civilized for a species that can be anything but.
The impressive glass ceiling allows the night sky to look down on us, and it’s so beautiful I thought it was a painting at first. I almost wish I could stand here all night under the protection of the stars and the great mythical beasts carved into the columns that border the room. There are snake-like creatures with wings too small to ever ride a current. Great sea beasts with fins and gills. And wingless monsters with heads that look like some mix of lion and leviathan, and long ribbons for tongues.
I think they’re depictions of dragons, or what some ancient cultures thought dragons looked like, but I can’t say for sure. The people who thought such things are either long dead or now know that our kind can walk among them just as easily as we can turn into the great winged beasts of their nightmares.
Well, most of us anyway.
A strand of flame-orange hair falls in my face, and I smooth it back. My updo is a little looser than it should be thanks to all the pins I used to open the door. I’m also a handful of butterflies short, but their wings helped me finally wedge the door open, so I consider their sacrifice worth it.
Slipping a calm apathetic mask in place, I abandon my hidden perch and step into the ballroom. The Syphons know most of the big players in the hierarchy, but our intel is a hodge podge of hacked files, gossip feeds, and back channel rumblings. I can identify all of the dukes and duchesses, probably half of the counts and countesses, but when it comes to every lord and lady, I’m done for. The same can be said for their military leaders. I have the generals and commanders locked in, and maybe a few captains, but trying to identify all of the Wings, Flights, and Squads is impossible.
I study the drakes that I pass, while making sure I don’t run into any hovering trays holding cocktails and canapés. I skirt the crowd and open my senses, combing through the various scents and sounds for anything noteworthy. All too quickly, I pick up on a murmur spreading through The Horde like fire eating through dry brush. People watch me intently, bowing and curtsying when I pass, and it’s plain to see that my days of just being another face in the crowd are over.
Tonight, my anonymity was officially stripped from me. I was willing to trade it for a name and a place amongst the dragons, something I’ve wanted and thought about since I was old enough to understand the magnitude of what was taken from me. And yet it all feels surprisingly…empty.
Maybe it’s because I’m here alone and still only on phase one of the Syphons’ plans to reclaim what we lost. There’s so much left to do before it will be us in this ballroom, together, laughing and prattling on without a single other care or worry.
“We weren’t expecting you for another half hour,” Lorn declares, and I turn to see him striding toward me.
“Expecting?” I ask, confused, and then quickly throw a hand up to stop the scion just as he’s about to invade my personal space. “You need to stay two feet away from me, or you’re going to set off my dress,” I warn.
“What?” he questions, confused.
“My dress will turn on you if you get any closer.” I gesture to the deceptively calm butterflies, and Lorn’s gaze alights on one that has dried blood on its wings.
“Got it,” he murmurs warily, taking half a step back while he studies me a little more intently. “Where are your guards?” he asks after a beat.
I shrug and once again point at the fluttering kaleidoscope. “Best body guards I’ve ever had. Ten out of ten, highly recommended.”
A flicker of suspicion moves through the scion’s features. “Better yet, where is Aeson?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” I answer flippantly as I resume the circuit I was making around the room. “He has a tendency to run off, but if you see him, feel free to strongly encourage him to stay the fuck away from me.”
Lorn snorts and falls into step next to me while carefully staying more than two feet away. “I take it things are going well?”
“Dandy,” I deadpan.
Lorn’s grin is pure amusement. “He cares for you, you know.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“Mm-hmm,” the scion hums. “I suspect you both do.”
