I bite back a snort at the stiff formality, but I must not stifle it completely, because both Lorn and the female look over at me.
“Your name?” Lorn asks emotionlessly.
“Tahir, My Scion,” the female answers, even though they’re both still staring at me.
Not his mate, then.
“Tahir, everything you see and confirm in this room will stay in this room. If it does not, your life is forfeit. Do you understand?” Lorn queries, but it’s more command than question.
“Yes, My Scion. My silence and my discretion are yours to command.”
The suggestion dripping all over that statement isn’t missed by anyone standing around. A grin sneaks across Chastain’s face before he covers it with a hand. And I swear I see a subtle quake of Blay’s shoulders, like he’s laughing, but his head is down.
Lorn doesn’t look amused at all, or interested. “I need you to identify the breed and bloodline of this Arcane. Can you do that, Tahir?”
“Most certainly, My Scion. If it pleases you, I can begin now.”
I’m taken aback as Lorn nods and Tahir begins to float in my direction.
This is the Oric?
Flabbergasted, I stare at the stunning female who can’t be much older than me. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting when Jori mentioned an Oric was on their way, but it certainly wasn’t the ruffled vision before me.
I tense as she approaches, my mind going straight to the knives and ichor part of the stereotype I had in my head. It’s not lost on me that Lorn didn’t provide the Oric with any clues about who I am and what I claim to be, and it feels like a test he’s hoping we both fail.
“May I read you?” Tahir asks as she draws even with me.
I look up at her and realize that what I thought was a headdress is actually her hair. It’s piled on her head in a voluminous sphere that has pearls and other small jewels woven through. The layers of fabric that comprise her dress look as soft as clouds, and I almost have to slap my own hand to keep from inappropriately reaching out to touch it.
“What exactly do you have to do to read me?” I ask hesitantly, fighting the urge to finger comb the snarls out of my hair while trying to smooth the wrinkles out of my soiled stolen clothes.
Tahir reaches into the ruffles of her skirt and pulls out what looks like a thick wand and a porcelain box. She must have pockets hidden within the depths of her cloud dress. Maybe the over-the-top outfit isn’t as impractical as I thought. She holds the thick wand up for my inspection.
“I’ll scan your form with my sequencer first, and then I’ll run a small sample of your blood through my centrifuge.” She lifts the small porcelain box in her palm. “Both tests will compile data that will pinpoint breed markers and familial bloodline connections with ninety-three percent accuracy.”
“Only ninety-three percent?” I tease, and Tahir smiles.
“Correct. We leave room for the natural evolution of species and also recognize that there might yet be unidentified genomes and bloodlines that we’ve yet to add to our records.”
I nod as though all of that makes perfect sense. “How does your centrifuge procure my blood?” My throat tightens around the question, and my hands start to get clammy.
If she pulls out a knife, I can’t guarantee that I’m not going to end up in someone’s lap again for round three oflet’sbreak the Syphon.
“You just set your finger here.” She points to a subtle divot in the surface of the box. “You’ll feel a tiny prick and then a slight sucking sensation as the machine procures the sample, and then you’re all done.”
The bands of dread that were winding around me loosen, and I blow out a relieved breath. I can handle a tiny prick. I snicker at that thought and then get a hold of myself. I thought I’d gotten over my Source-drunk giggles, but maybe they’re making a comeback.
“Okay. You can read me, then,” I agree, and Tahir’s bright smile blazes even brighter.
“Excellent,” she chirps. “If you have any talismans, dampeners, charms, or other magic-imbued items, please remove them now,” she instructs, and a pit forms in my stomach.
Tahir must see my face fall, because her honeycomb-colored eyes sharpen and go from vapid and congenial to astute and no nonsense.
“Before you lie to me and tell me you don’t have anything, the sequencerwillpick up on it. We’ll stay here as long as we need to get a clean reading. I’m certain the Royal Wing will happily assist as needed to ensure that happens.”
Threat made crystal clear, I scowl up at the Oric before looking around at the determined faces of the surrounding drakes.
“Can everyone leave the room?” I ask, hopeful.
