“The healers mentioned that they thought you’d spent some time with blood brokers. Is that true?” Aeson asks, his question invading my churning thoughts and my attempt at calm.
I deliberate if there’s anything to gain by snubbing his question. I dart a quick glance at the others surrounding me, my gaze pausing on Ogdan for a beat before settling back on the commander. Guess it’s time to try to do what Enslee ordered and play the game. I chose theeasy wayalready—might as well ride it out a little longer.
“I don’t know thatspent some timeis the phrase I’d use for it,” I finally answer, hating that speaking to them at all is my best chance for survival.
“How long did they have you?”
I study the commander’s face, trying to read the intention behind this line of questioning right now, but the emotionless mask he has in place is solid. My gaze dips to the dragon mark on his throat before I look away.
“By my last count, one hundred seventeen days, give or take a few I might have been unconscious for,” I offer nonchalantly.
A low rumble of anger rolls through the car, instantly ratcheting up the tension. A few of the drakes adjust their positions like they suddenly can’t restrain their restlessness, but one look from Aeson and the noise and furious fidgeting stops.
A heavy silence settles between us, and I find myself wondering if their reaction is because they hate blood brokers or if it’s because they’re Horde, and a slight against one dragon is a slight against all dragons. Something they can’t allow or they risk looking weak and opening the door to having their reign challenged.
“How did they get you?” Chastain asks.
My eyes dart to the blond Channeler and then back to Aeson, trying to gauge how the commander feels about the other’s uninvited insertion into the interrogation. There’s no hint of annoyance or reprimand in the commander’s gaze. Maybe this is a thing they do to throw their captives off guard. They act all friendly and curious, making the unsuspecting victim feel comfortable, and then they strike.
I suppose it’s good I’m not unsuspecting.
I find everything they do suspicious.
“How they get everyone,” I reply with a shrug. “Wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But where’s your family, your kindred? Wasn’t anyone protecting you?” the male who’s hand I slapped away earlier questions.
I eye him and his rich purple scale armor. I originally pegged him as a Channeler, but the glyphs of his dragon mark tell me otherwise. He’s a Render, a Shield more specifically. I want to study the lines and circular shapes on the side of his neck, but I stop myself and look away.
“Gone,” I reply after a beat. “And, recent circumstances excluded, I can usually protect myself.”
Incredulous huffs puff out from more than one of the drakes surrounding me, and I roll my eyes.
“Not everyone has to be part of the big bad Dragon Horde to get by in life,” I point out.
“Said by someone who clearly doesn’t know what it means to be part of The Dragon Horde,” Tove retorts, and I glare over at the female.
“Think you’ve got me pegged, Seeder?” I prod, unable to help myself.
She matches my glare with one of her own.
“No, little lizard, I just know bullshit when I hear it.”
I swallow down a groan at her jab. I’m never going to live down the lizard thing if I survive this. It’s probably good that the odds aren’t in my favor. My Flight back home would be dying if they knew how badly my brain betrayed me when I needed it most.
“I guess you’ve got it all figured out, then,” I counter, sitting back in my seat and purposefully shutting my mouth.
This does earn a flicker of annoyance from Aeson, who levels her with an unhappy look. Tove drops her eyes in a gesture of submission, her body language and immediate silence contrite.
“Well,Idon’t have it figured out,” Jori announces. “I can’t even tell if she’s one of us or not.”
“She’s a dragon,” Aeson declares confidently, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. I try to study the expression on his face, but his new position dips his features in the shadows of the dim interior, and I can’t get a good read.
I’m tempted to ask him how he’s so sure. I know I don’t smell like one to them, and none of them have magically tested my blood, but I keep my lips sealed.
“Should we take bets, Commander?” Chastain jibes.
“If you’re stupid enough to go up against Aes, I’ll gladly take your credits,” Tove taunts.
