Maybe I am.
“Wow. So eager to torch every ounce of goodwill we just built, aren’t you?” I lob at him.
“Answer the question,” he growls back.
My answering glare is blistering, but he’s not cowed in the slightest.
“My agreement with your father was for him to arrange a meeting with the Matron, but don’t worry, regardless of whether or not she can break my curse, you and I are still athing. And before you try to make this more about you than you already have, let’s get one thing clear, this has nothing to do with you, Aeson. I wanted a chance to be whole, to free my dragon, to take back what was stolen from me. Your father promised me a shot at that, and I took it, because it’s a fuck ton more than anyone else has ever given me.”
My chest heaves with the effort it takes to reel in my emotions. I showed Aeson enough of my vulnerability tonight; he doesn’t get to see any more.
“I’ve been here for weeks, and not one of you assholes has bothered toaskme what I want out of all of this, or even how I feel about it. You’ve ordered me around, lectured me, made decisions on my behalf, treated me like I’m nothing more than a pawn or a puppet, and then had the audacity to get mad at me for protecting myself, for ensuring that I get whatIneed from this fucked-up situation.”
I angrily gesture at the commander, his Wing, and then to the room all around me.
“If you want to be pissed, go for it, but aim that shit at each other where it belongs. I’m doing what I’ve always done. I’m surviving. I’m looking out for myself because no one else is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pack…and call Lorn.”
I turn to leave, rubbing at the anguish in my chest and quickly blinking back the emotion welling in my eyes.
“Lorn won’t be taking you,” Aeson calls after me.
“Since I prefer him over you at the moment, I disagree,” I shout back as I head toward my room. If I turn around, I’m going to get vicious and that’s not going to end well for anyone.
“It’s either me or you’re not going,” Aeson threatens, and I stop and slowly turn to face him.
He’s still only wearing his diced up suit pants. His muscles and dragon mark are on full display, as is the tension that’s rolling off him in waves. “We’ll be ready in thirty,” he states before crossing his arms like he’s preparing for a fight.
Any other day, I might have been up to giving him one. But right now, I don’t give two shits about squaring off with him or his bruised ego. I care about meeting with the Matron and breaking this curse. If I have to put up with his surly ass to do that, then so be it.
“Fine,” I bite back. “But Aeson,” I call as he turns to leave, “you’re my mate not my master. Be sure you don’t get those two mixed up, or you’ll be nothing to me at all.”
Chapter 43
I STORM INTO MY ROOM, glaring at everything in the mating suite like it’s personally offended me.
What a fucking asshole.
They think I’m untrustworthy? I’m not the one that shifts from playful and flirty into a distrustful douchebag in the blink of a fucking eye.
Restless and beyond frustrated, I pace back and forth in my room. I can’t tell if I want to rage or cry, which just pisses me off even more because the king just secured a meeting with the Matron. The fucking Matron. The Syphons and I have been searching for her forever, and now it’s somehow happening, and instead of being happy about that, I’m reeling over Aeson Noctis’s mood swings.
I rub at my temples, suddenly so fucking tired. I want to sleep for a week, but I have a meeting with the leader of the Relacour Blood Crafters, and I need to get my head on straight and focus on what’s important.
Something on the long coffee table in the sitting area catches my eye. Several somethings, I realize as I move closer and find a few stacks of wrapped boxes.
Did Nixy send me something? Usually her deliveries go straight to the closet, but maybe these are the pajamas I requested to cover for wanting to get a message to Enslee. I pick up a box from one of the stacks and examine it. When it doesn’t look, sound, or smell like anything dangerous, I sit on the couch and begin to open it.
I get the paper off and cautiously lift the lid. I stare down at the contents, my mind slow to catch up with my eyes because I’m staring down at a case that’s marked with the magical brand of the weaponsmiths from the Bone Isles.
My lungs fill, but my breaths stall as I reverently open the case and find two exquisite bone blades nestled within the safety of emerald green velvet. The handles have the swooping clouds, jeweled stars, and crescent moons found on the crest of the Renders. I run a worshipful finger gently across the ivory blade, and I can’t stop the smile that slips across my face.
I take in the boxes in front of me, and excitement has me reaching for a second package, which contains two stunning lock sheaths for the bone blades, the kind that you can attach to any surface and know they’re not going anywhere. A stunned breath whooshes out of me, and I start frantically opening every wrapped box in front of me.
I discover a pulse bow and harness, two fourth generation XD pistols and the thigh holsters that go with them, a belt of PHaSR grenades and a case of refills, six batiirien spikes, and a grappling gauntlet.
There’s a disc attached to the last box in the first pile, and I press down on the button and a recording starts, zooming in on all the smiling faces of Aeson’s Wing.
“Happy Naming Day, Frills!” everyone enthusiastically offers—well, everyone except Tove, she rolls her eyes and looks the exact opposite of enthusiastic, but she’s there, so I guess that’s something.
