Anger pulses through his clenched jaw at my taunt, but a flash of surprising heat blazes in his gaze, and it’s all I can do not to gasp and point it out.
Holy shit, he is into this!
Aeson Noctis likes ’em feisty. I can do feisty. My plan to turn the tables just got way easier. I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips. I feel like I just found buried treasure, and now I need to figure out how to keep it secure without anyone else discovering it.
His scorching gaze drifts to my solitary dimple, and something alights in his eyes that I can’t decipher.
“She had these,” Herm announces, dousing the moment as he approaches the table and deposits both of my trusty butter knives in front of Aeson.
I jerk back, shocked and affronted.
“Hey!” I protest and then hurry to check the hidden sheaths inside the tops of my boots, which is the last place I put my makeshift weapons. My fingers find the place where the knives should be, but, sure enough, they’re now empty. “How the fuck did you get those?”
The Stormer offers me a cheeky smile but doesn’t answer the question as he reclaims his position on the other side of the room.
Aeson blows out a long exasperated breath, and I’m annoyed to find his bossy asshole mask firmly back in place. Commander Galerus eyes the flatware and promptly covers his mouth with his hand, I’m pretty sure to hide the grin that’s sneaking across his face.
“Why did you have these?” Aeson asks, lifting one of the dull knives and inspecting it as though he suspects it might transform into something more akin to an actual weapon if he stares at it hard enough.
“Are you really not getting the whole ‘I don’t trustanyof you’ thing? Because there are only so many ways I can say it.”
I take a bite of something that looks like a vegetable and pause because it’s unexpectedly sweet. I quickly sample another mouthful and bite back a groan of approval. I may not trust The Horde, but damn, whoever is in the kitchen knows what they’re doing.
“Andthisis the answer?” Aeson challenges, holding up the butter knife so the rest of the table can properly see it. “What can you even do with this?”
“Plenty,” I tease and then throw in a saucy little wink for good measure.
“I, for one, wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Commander Galerus murmurs as he smooths a hand over his man bun.
Aeson snaps his glare toward the other male, and Galerus’s grin dies a quick death. I try not to laugh when Aeson inhales deep and slow, looking around the room like he needs something to ground himself so he doesn’t rip the other male’s head off and spew fire down his throat.
Dragons really are so damn possessive.
“We will address this and the guard issue later,” Aeson grumbles after a long agitated moment. He drops the butter knife back onto the table, and an insulting ping rings out instead of the hardy thunk a good knife would make.
I really need some proper weapons.
Despite that, I’m still tempted to grab the knife currently resting at the side of my plate and shove it in my boot. Embarrassing as it is, it’s still technically better than nothing. The thought that sticky-fingers-Herm will probably just magic it away again is the only thing that stills my hand. Well, that and a girl can only get caught with butter knives so many times before it starts to affect her reputation.
“What do these Tainted—as you call them—smell like?” Ventis asks, redirecting everyone’s attention back to the important subject at hand.
I wait for a beat for someone from Aeson’s Wing to answer, but when I look up, I realize the female commander is addressing me specifically.
“Um, like a dead body that’s been festering in the heat of the deadlands for days. It’s like cooked meat that’s gone bad, but there’s a distinct hint of that peppery magic smell that a sorcai cast has.”
“Are you sure they’re sorcai?” she counters.
“Yes. I’ve seen them wield just like the sorcai do. They look the same, their magic smells the same, they use the same methodology to cast and manipulate magic. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck, even if it smells like rotten foie gras,” I joke.
Nobody laughs.
“You mentioned you found a pattern to their movements?” Drazyn inquires. “What was it?”
I pull in a deep breath and quickly weigh the pros and cons of telling these commanders the truth. Earlier today, I probably wouldn’t have, but earlier today, I wasn’t confident I was right. The Tainted showing up outside Nixy’s, however, confirmed it.
“Me,” I answer simply. “I think they’re hunting me.”
Aeson stiffens and each of the other commanders seems to sit up a little straighter, their polite demeanors instantly growing more serious.
