Does she hate me?
Is she about to unravel the string of half-truths I’ve been knotting together to survive The Horde and insert myself here in their stronghold?
“Please have a seat, dragoness,” Azo instructs me, waving a hand toward the seating area. “Let me grab you something to drink.”
He scurries off before I can tell himno, thank you.
Aeson’s guards spread to each corner of the room. Tove stays close by, nudging me toward the oddly-shaped couch, and Jori must have stayed outside with the driver, because I don’t see him anywhere. Fenox watches the drakes carefully as she moves to the other side of the center table where she turns to face me. Her eyes soften as she takes me in.
“Allow me to introduce myself, dragoness. My name is Fenox Lael and I’ve been designing clothing for the last forty years. I’ve worked closely with several high-standing members of The Horde for the last fifteen of those forty years. I could bore you with the details of what I specialize in when it comes to design and styling, but I get the impression that you’re a female who knows what she wants.” A knowing twinkle enters her eye.
I force myself not to react, even though my chest aches and my throat grows tight with the effort. Everything I know about Nixy is through Ren. I was occasionally there when they would talk if we were out on assignment or working out together when a call came through. But now that the female is standing in front of me, I realize we don’ttrulyknow each other, despite feeling that way.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d love to show you what I’ve put together, get your feedback, and then we can go from there?”
Azo hurries into the room with a tall flute of something golden, fancy and fizzy. He tries to hand it to me, but Tove quickly intercepts it and brings the beverage to her nose, inhaling deeply. She must not scent anything to be concerned about, because she takes a small sip and then waits.
“If you wanted your own, you could have just asked,” I tell the drake.
My taunt is met with an unamused look from the Seeder, and she hands over what I suspect is champagne, with a little more force than necessary.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think,” Azo sputters, his worried gaze darting from me to Tove and back again.
I wave off the apology. “Tove is just greedy. Don’t worry about it,” I reassure the flustered human.
I bite back a grin, giving myself a point in the petty game Tove and I are playing. Looking down at the drink, I swirl the golden liquid in the flute and watch the tiny bubbles grow frenzied with the movement. Alcohol like this is pricey. Ordering it anywhere down south is asking to be mugged by someone happy to relieve you of all the credits they assume you have. I’m tempted to try the delicacy, but I don’t know what kind of effect it’ll have on me. Probably best not to risk it.
I turn to Fenox. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Excellent. Right this way,” she encourages.
I hand the flute back to Tove and follow Fenox, juggling concern over the fact that I didn’t know that she’d inserted herself into The Horde like this. I was aware that she occasionally passed information to Ren, but I didn’t know that she was actively building a network to help spy on our behalf.
It’s brilliant, but why didn’t Ren ever say anything to me about it? Why didn’t Enslee? I know I don’t usually show the same amount of interest in politics that my sister does, but I should have been in the loop of something like this. Coming off the back of the betrayal that landed me and Renatta in the hands of the Tainted, this tastes even more bitter and unpleasant.
What else haven’t I been told?
The shock of seeing Nixy starts to wear off, and in its place, a barrage of questions queue up, each one more pressing than the last. I debate how I’m going to ask Fenox what the bloody fuck is going on without the drakes hearing it, but a subtle hand movement from the wyvern draws my attention. Three fingers forming the shape of aW, telling me towait, a familiar signal that my Flight and I use all the time.
Her hands are clasped in front of her. TheWof her fingers rests on top of her other hand, and as soon as she sees that I’ve noticed it, she adopts a more natural, relaxed position, erasing the silent communication. So, I do as I’m told and continue to keep my mouth shut.
“Azo explained that the flashier fashions of the keeps didn’t appeal to you, that you were in search of more practical options. I can make whatever it is you require, but my suggestion would be to create a collection that satisfies both the practical and fashionable requirements of high society.”
I snort and Fenox’s benevolent gaze flickers with both amusement and reproach. It’s a look I know well, one Ren wore often. Grief wraps a fist around my lungs and starts to squeeze. If Fenox notices my distracted efforts to keep a stranglehold on my emotions, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she continues on about marrying fashion with function and then starts talking animatedly about makeup looks and hairstyles.
I do my best to play my part and offer little sounds of interest and encouragement, but as we draw closer to the other side of the room, I pick up on a faint current of energy. Just as I’m about to pause to assess where this odd sensation is coming from, Ren’s little sister flashes me the hand signal forforward.
I wonder for a fraction of a second if I’m an idiot for blindly complying, but curiosity and my love for Ren has me continuing alongside her little sister, ignoring the weird static that’s starting to dance across my skin. Unexpectedly I cross a threshold, one I can’t see but sure as fuck can feel. It’s like walking through a collection of spiderwebs that are electrically charged.
My body tingles as the magic washes over me. The troubling sensation is quick to disappear when I make it through the undetectable barrier Fenox has erected near the display of clothing, separating it from the rest of the room.
“Don’t look over at the guards or try to see the muzzler we just walked through,” Fenox orders evenly. “Just keep looking at me and at the clothes. I programmed the spell to make it seem like we’re talking about outfits and other asinine shit, but they can stillseeus, so don’t do anything that could tip them off.”
“Won’t they be able to read our lips?” I ask, forcing myself to relax even though a barrage of questions are now yipping at me, begging for answers.
“No, the spell-tech accounts for that.”
“Nixy, what is going on? Are you here to get me out, because as much as I would love to get the fuck away from here, and fast, I don’t think this is the best way to go about it. How are they not sensing this muzzler? Ren wouldn’t want you to be taking risks like this. I don’t either, if that counts for anything.”
