I reach for my dragon, eager for contact or a sign that the cage separating us might be weakening, but, just like always, that piece of me is locked away and dormant.
Rattled and confused, I lean closer to Aeson, probably too close. I blame my scrambled depth perception and my fuzzy head, not this strange pull I suddenly feel toward him.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be talking about top secret things,” I whisper, purposely dodging his question, and his gaze drops to my lips.
“Is that top secret?” Aeson asks, his tone a gravelly taunt bordering on a deep growl that makes me think I just might know one of the noises he makes when he comes.
“I thought everything about me was top secret. Isn’t that why you’re sneaking me up to your rookery like some female your kindred wouldn’t approve of?” I ask.
“You’re not going to get anything coherent out of her until Jori deals with her Source issues,” Lorn interjects.
I point at the heir’s chest. “You have Source issues. You also have some dirt right there.” I gesture toward his right peck. He swipes at his shirt irritably before looking down to find it’s still pristine. I giggle. “Gotchya.”
Lorn’s scowl is icy. It’s the perfect accessory to go with his white hair, wintry blue eyes, and cold beauty. The thought makes me giggle again.
“You have a dimple,” Aeson points out, like I don’t already know.
I gasp and cover the small indentation with my hand. “It’s back?” I exclaim.
Aeson frowns at me, the look in his gaze perplexed.
“Don’t scare it away!” I admonish. “I haven’t seen the little guy in forever.”
Aeson snorts out a laugh and then quickly cuts it off, like the show of amusement just happened against his will.
“It only comes out when I’m happy or having fun. Don’t mess this up for me,” I scold, and Aeson’s amusement instantly dims.
Everyone grows quiet, and I bite down on my lip to keep any more nonsense from slipping out. I wince when I accidentally reopen the cut I forgot about.
“She’s bleeding again,” someone announces.
I wave a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing, just my lip. I’ve had worse injuries…like way, way, way worse. Don’t even worry about this one. It’s not even a blip on the radar of the fucked-up things that have happened to me.”
What the fuck am I even saying?
Mortification has me closing my eyes. I press a hand over my mouth as though it will stop the involuntary word vomit.
“Can someone just knock me out until we get where we’re going? I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me,” I plead, my voice muffled against the palm of my hand.
“We’re almost there,” Aeson assures me, and I nod and then regret that movement. “Now back to your mom,” he tries to redirect.
I groan and drop my hands back into my lap, irked.
“Stop being so obsessed with my mom; way to give a girl a complex.” I open my eyes to give him a look, and freeze.
I’m surrounded by white dragon stone on the walls and floors. It has light gray and gold veins running through it just like I remember. The arches are the same. The dragons carved into the stone of the walls, flying, hunting, living life, are different and yet similar enough that my heart lurches and my lungs try to quit on me.
Wasps get to work destroying my insides.
It’s not the same. You’re okay. I tell myself, but I instantaneously don’t believe it.
I don’t know why it didn’t dawn on me thatthisis where they were bringing me. They said rookery, and that could’ve only ever meant the towers of King’s Keep. And yet, I feel like I’ve just been kicked in the gut.
I wasn’t ready.
I don’t know that I ever could have been.
“What’s wrong?” Aeson demands, suddenly stopping so he can look at me, but my thoughts and memories are yanking me back to a time I’m all at once desperate to escape.
