The door to the tower unlocks, and I can tell by the displacement of air and the gentle breeze against the back of my thighs that it’s swinging open. I study the walls around us, but I don’t see evidence of a hidden panel in the wall or even a seam in the stone that would tell me where we just came from. He carries me into the main room of his quarters, and I decide I’ll have to look for the hidden door in the hallway another time. Maybe it has that same kind of tech that hides it like Aeson’s trove does in his room.
“Put me down, you brute,” I snap before slapping the commander hard on his ass when I realize I have a pretty good angle to do a little of my own spanking.
He chuckles and sets me on my feet. I pull at the hem of my shirt to make sure everything is still covered and turn around, my smile faltering when I find all of Aeson’s Wing spread out around us in serious guard mode. My gaze lands on a stranger’s as he rises from a couch, and I instantly realize why everyone looks so tense.
He’s a member of the king’s Wing.
Aeson comes up behind me, and I feel the exact moment he spots the visitor because he goes stiff.
“Raeger,” he greets tersely, and I look back to see him offer the Channeler a nod.
“Scion,” Raeger acknowledges just as curtly. “I’m just dropping off a missive,” he explains, which is when I notice the gold disc in the drake’s hand.
Aeson steps around me and approaches the male, his arm stretched out expectantly.
“It’s not for you, Scion. It’s for the scioness,” Raeger announces, bypassing Aeson so he can hand me the golden disc. “The king passes along his wishes for a safe and expeditious trip,” the Channeler informs me, and then without another word, he proceeds to walk toward the door and promptly leave.
Aeson’s stare moves from the front entrance to me, all lightness and humor in his blue eyes replaced by wariness. One of his eyebrows lifts in question.
“Trip?” he queries flatly.
I look down at the disc in my hands, and surprise trickles through me. I didn’t think King Noctis would arrange the meeting tonight. I thought it would take more time than that.
Instead of answering Aeson, I compress a button in the center of the disc, and four holographic documents blink into existence directly above the device. There’s a royal authorization from the king, allowing me limited access to a restricted area that’s not named. From the look of things, the pass is good for exactly four days, and based on the activation time, I’m expected to leave as soon as possible. There’s a packing list that consists of warm clothing, temperature packs, and instructions not to bring my com. The third document is encoded and meant to be deciphered only by my escort, and the last image is a note from Lorn, offering to take me if Aeson refuses.
That gives me pause. Why would Aeson refuse?
I release my thumb on the disc, and the documents all disappear. I stare off at nothing for a moment. Why would I need to meet the Matron in a restricted area? Was that at her request or the king’s? Someone clears their throat, and I’m pulled from my thoughts and focus back on Aeson and his Wing, who have closed in around us.
“I think it’s time you answer my question now,” Aeson declares as he grimly looks from the disc in my hand back up to me. “What did my father agree to give you as part of your deal?”
In answer, I toss Aeson the disc and watch as he reads through the documents. As soon as he gets to the encoded destination, anger and suspicion flash through his features. He’s quick to banish them, but there’s an undeniable tension now radiating off him while he moves on to read Lorn’s note. When he finishes, he studies me intently and it’s as though I can see him fortifying his defenses breath by breath, brick by brick, until the sexy, easygoing male I’ve spent the last few hours with is gone, and in his place is the hard, unyielding commander I know all too well.
My heart lurches, and the moths in my stomach are threatening to crawl up my throat as unease and hurt wash through me.
“Why, of all places, would you ask to go here?” he asks cooly, holding up the golden disc, and I feel the icy bite of his accusing tone nip at me.
I recoil and study the scion as he hands the missive to Ogdan, who quickly surveys it, his demeanor growing just as stiff and stony as Aeson’s.
I scowl, unsure what to make of this. Is it still the deal that’s pissing Aeson off, or is it something else now?
“I haven’t been clued in to exactly where we’re going, but I requested a meeting with the head of the Relacour sorcai, and whatever is encoded on that disc is where your father saw fit to host it,” I answer, ignoring the ache in my chest that’s throbbing in time with the one starting to hammer inside my skull. It’s been a long night.
Aeson looks over at Farrow and Karis, and then both Thrashers move to flank him. They stare at me with that blank look that tells me they’re ready to comb through everything I say in search of lies or any hints of deception.
I reel back, looking from the Thrashers to the commander. Even now, after everything, he’s still trying to catch me in a lie. I shake my head, disappointment mixing with my anger and dejection. I was worried that tonight would change things between us, that everything would be different after being with him. But it never dawned on me that accepting Aeson’s bond would changenothingat all. And yet, as I’m met with the same mistrust and skepticism that I’ve been up against from the first second I laid eyes on the scion in the streets of Lairwood, I realize I’ve made a glaring overestimation about what tonight meant to him.
“And here I was thinking we were past this,” I tell the commander flatly, a bone-deep wariness and heartache suddenly weighing me down.
“Why do you want to meet with the Relacour Matron?” Aeson asks instead of acknowledging any aspect of what I just said.
Fine. If this is how he wants things to be between us, cold and disconnected, then he’ll get exactly that. I can do frigid bitch with the best of ’em.
“Because Relacour Blood Crafters played a major role in the wyvern and sorcai rebellion, and I strongly believe that they are the ones responsible for the curse on the Syphons. If there’s anyone capable of fixing what was done to me, it will be the Matron,” I answer smoothly.
“And if she can’t break your curse, is your deal with my father void?” Aeson queries, his intonation flat, but the anger in his eyes cutting.
I scoff and look at him like I’m seeing him for the first time.
