“And before you ask, I don’t know exactly why. I didn’t even start piecing it all together until after Lairwood, but today cemented it. For some reason, the Tainted really want my blood. And, from the look of things, they aren’t afraid to take on The Horde to get it.”
Chapter 23
AESON GROWLS IN WARNING. MENACE vibrates in his tone, and determination and wrath are etched in his features. His dragon mark seems to ripple, and what’s strange is that I swear I can feel the movement across my own throat.
“They can’t have you,” he rumbles dangerously.
“Great,” I snark, rubbing my neck. “I’ll be sure to let the Tainted know that the next time I see them. No doubt they’ll apologize profusely and immediately leave the city, never to be seen again. My hero!”
Aeson’s glower is scorching, but now that I know he likes it when I go toe to toe with him, all it does is make me want to rile him up even more, see how far I can bend him before he snaps.
“Good to see that mouth is as tart as ever,” he mutters dryly, but I catch the spark of desire that flickers across his face as his eyes dart down to my lips before he quickly looks away.
“Did you just call me a tart, Spare?” I gasp dramatically, tilting away from him as though I just can’t believe my ears. “Don’t make me challenge you to a duel to restore my honor, Commander.”
Aeson opens his mouth to argue, but Commander Drazyn interrupts.
Cock block.
“We’ve strayed very far from the purpose of this meeting,” he points out, but his efforts to rein in the conversation are spoiled by the chuckle Commander Zeir lets loose when I flip Aeson off.
Abruptly, a loud knock fills the room. All eyes swing to the double doors as Gatlin moves to answer it. A male in bright red scale armor enters and then bows deeply.
“Scion, the initiates await your Call to Arms.”
The drake doesn’t wait for a response before he straightens and leaves. Gatlin shuts the doors behind the unexpected visitor, and I look around the room, trying to figure out what’s going on.
Call to Arms?
Are we at war?
Aeson stares at me, his gaze suddenly intense, and a tremor of awareness creeps up my spine and unfurls in my chest. He leans closer, and I realize that move is just as effective on me as it was on him earlier.
He’s in fitted black clothing that I didn’t take time to appreciate when I first walked in and needed to get the lay of the land. His top is some kind of supple leather, probably made from a rare animal with a price tag higher than I’m capable of counting to. The arms are a different fabric that molds to every muscle like it’s been poured on. There’s a hood that looks like it would cover his neck too if he pulled it up, and I wonder if it’s been designed that way to hide his dragon mark and face when he needs to.
It makes me think of the owl paparazzo from earlier and how he was following Aeson’s Wing members on the off chance they might see him. It’s hard for me to picture someone like him ever needing to hide, but I never thought about how hard it would be to just exist when everyone knows who you are and probably wants something from you.
I’ve lived a life of anonymity and inconspicuousness. I’ve clutched my secrets to my chest and, until now, have never been forced to reveal them. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live on the other side of that coin with everyone knowing everything there is to know about you, or thinking they do anyway.
He dips his chin and sort of looks at me through his lashes, like he’s preparing to tell me something of vital importance. My nerves start to quaver as he takes his time to speak. Did something happen? Did The Horde find the others? Is that who they’re going to war against?
“We’re going to protect you,” he finally tells me, and my gut sours even more, because what in the Blood Rite doesthatmean?
“Protect me?” I ask, and he nods solemnly. “From what exactly?”
His brow furrows as though he thought the answer was obvious. “From everything. From these Tainted, whoever they are. The blood brokers. From the dragons who betrayed your kith.”
Relief swarms me, and the wasps in my stomach instantly calm. Ens and the others are safe. He’s not threatening me.
“I know you don’t believe that, that you don’t trust us yet,” he continues, “but we will protect you.Iwill protect you, Ever. No matter what.”
Damn. The sound of my name on his lips is a potent shot I’m utterly unprepared for. Now I’m the one staring at his mouth, wondering if I would taste as good there as I sound. His fingers twitch, like he’s suppressing the urge to reach across the table and touch me, and I consider what I would do if he gave in to the impulse instead of fighting it?
Confusion permeates my sudden fervor, because this isn’t part of the plan. Yes, I need to make him think I’m interested, that I’m falling for him, but I’m not supposed to actually feel any of those things. Somehow his presence is poking holes in my good sense, and I don’t know whose game we’re playing here. I’m setting the terms and positioning the pieces, but somehow we’re playing on his board and he’s controlling the moves.
Before I can even attempt to wrangle my reaction and think of something to say, Aeson stands and then strides over to the far wall. The wall retracts at the commander’s approach and reveals what looks like a viewing box with several rows of descending seats and a large arena beyond.
Without a word, the commanders around me get up from the table and follow him. I watch them go, slightly unnerved, but eventually my curiosity edges out my apprehension, and I trail after them.
