“She’s not scared,” Aeson announces, the statement cutting into the easygoing revelry and instantly silencing it.
My heart stutters when he leans forward again, his blue eyes fixed on mine like he’s excavating my soul in order to unearth my secrets one vulnerable layer at a time.
“She’s frustrated, reckless when cornered, savvy, and weaker than she wants any of us to know, but she’s not terrified.”
Anger flares through me, tensing my muscles and settling in the look I aim at the commander like daggers eager to draw blood and maim.
“I am not weak,” I tell him, my tone an open invitation for him to test me and find out for himself. It doesn’t matter that he could burn me to a crisp in two seconds flat and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it, or that he’d heal from any injuries inflicted in a fight and I wouldn’t. I don’t care that he’s Horde, or a member of the Royal Wing, and I’m nothing more than some sand-stamped lostling; I’ll spoon-feed him those words if it’s the last thing I do.
He stares at me as though weighing my mettle right then and there. “No. Not weak,” he agrees after a long pause where the tension in the car grows so thick and heavy I’m surprised it doesn’t force the airboat to fall out of the sky from the sheer weight of it. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant hurt. You’re hurting and you don’t want us to know.”
Shock shoves at my fury and scrapes at parts of me I thought I was an expert at hiding. I batten down the hatches on my secrets and tuck my trauma more firmly against me.
Aeson gives me a look I can’t decipher, and then his eyes dip down my body. Warily, I follow his gaze until it lands on my naked thigh, exposed through the tear in my skirt. I notice for the first time a long shallow scratch there that’s barely weeping blood. I have no idea when it happened.
I stare at the scrape, somehow not convinced that’s what the commander was truly talking about. I feel alarmingly wounded by his well-aimed words, but did he get off a lucky shot, or is he a skilled marksman?
Unease ripples through me and I’m unsure if I want to lash out at whoever this Commander Aeson is or hide from him for my own safety.
“When was the last time you met an Arc who wasn’t afraid of us on some level? And yet here she sits, not a whiff of dread coming off her,” the commander concludes, resting his case and once again relaxing back into his seat.
The raw intensity winding between us shatters like winter ice against the first touch of spring. Internally I shiver off whatever the fuck just happened and rally. Double-checking my defensive mask is right where it needs to be, I shake my head and smile at the commander like he’s got it all wrong.
“That’s quite some ego your neck is supporting,Commander,” I taunt. “Explains why you’re so big though—gotta have plenty of room for all that shit you’re full of.”
I hear a low hiss of affront from one of the drakes, and Ogdan starts to choke on either his shock or amusement. He coughs, pressing a fist to his chest to help clear his airway.
“You are right about one thing. I’ll give you that at least,” I accede, my gaze growing venomous. “I’m not scared. But not for the reasons you might think. I’m just not afraid to die.”
I expect the commander to take offense at my jabs, but he once again surprises me when his only reaction is a satisfied smirk.
“And that’s where this is leading…your death?” he asks evenly, like he’s got me right where he wants me in this complex web he seems to be weaving. “What makes you so certain?”
My answering chuckle is hollow. “Because that’s what The Horde does. You can pretend otherwise, but we all know if you can’t claim, control, or comprehend something, you kill it.”
“And which category do you fall under?” he presses, his gaze glittering with ardent interest.
Tired of this game already, I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes with a smirk. “All of them.”
Chapter 7
I’M NOT SURE HOW LONG I pretend to doze before the car starts to drop. We’ve reached our destination. I keep my eyes closed, not caring to discover where we are. Wherever it is, I doubt I’ll be here for very long.
“The other Flight is already back. Guess they didn’t find anything,” someone observes, but I can’t match the voice with a name.
“Let’s go, dragoness,” Ogdan orders, kicking at one of my boots to get me moving.
“You go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” I mumble and wave a dismissive hand at him.
His answering laugh is vexingly warm. “You opting for the hard way already? And here I thought you’d hold out for a little longer. Don’t make me lose the bet to Tove; her coffers are plenty full already.”
An amused snort slips out of me before I can stop it. Thankfully, a sudden onset of irritation swiftly drowns out any lingering mirth.
I will not like this drake. He is not funny. He’d slaughter me without a second thought if given the order…they all would.
Cracking open my eyelids, I sit up and find the car almost empty. Aeson is standing by the open door, and Ogdan and Jori are both looming over me. All of their demeanors are more serious than they’ve been up to this point, so I lock down my innate desire to do the exact opposite of what they’re telling me to and instead get up.
I’m escorted out of the lirocar into the waiting night. Stars wink down at me from above, just like I expected, and a pang of longing for home splinters through me. It may be brutal and desolate where I’m from, but nothing beats the view of the heavens from The Scorch.
