My thoughts wander to our makeshift settlement, and I can’t help wondering how everyone is. If they miss me. If Enslee even told them I’m alive or if she’s trying to keep a lid on it while she tries to flush out our traitor.
We certainly didn’t have much growing up. A fact that shouldn’t be true for any dragons living in Drameric. Not when our blood carries the most potent concentration of magic and therefore has the highest exchange rate on the market. But there’s a death sentence in every drop of Syphon blood, and we never risked using it. We did trade sorcai blood after our hunts, when we were in desperate need of credits, but even then, we were as careful and circumspect as possible.
Something dawns on me, and my thoughts turn dark. From the moment I pieced together that our run-ins with the Tainted weren’t random like we thought, I’ve been trying to figure out how we ended up on their radar in the first place. I figured we caught their eye somehow and that’s when the hunt began. However, now I think one of the intermediaries we used to procure credits in exchange for blood must have tipped them off. A couple were very focused on us and what we were. We offered our usual cover, which seemed to satisfy them, but now I wonder. If I’m right and our cover was somehow blown, it means the Syphons have more snakes in our nest than we thought.
Our attention has been trained mostly on The Horde. As far as we were concerned, dragons were our biggest threat. And while that still may be true, that myopic focus has kept us from spotting the other real dangers skulking in the shadows.
Shit.
I need to talk to Enslee. I need to warn her. We could have been followed, or watched, and we didn’t even realize it.
Irritation and worry overtake my thoughts. Maybe I can get Lorn to give me a com. I look over at the heir and consider my options. He’d probably be the better brother to approach about it. His countenance leans more calculating and less controlling than Aeson’s. Lorn of course would carefully monitor every call I made, but maybe Nixy could help me hack a secure line.
It would be risky, but the sudden ache to speak to my sister, to hear her voice and know that she’s okay, has me willing to chance it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lorn asks, his cool blue eyes intently studying my face.
I realize with a start that I’ve been staring at him like some weirdo as I work through a possible plan. Heat suffuses my cheeks. Immediately, I phase out of creeper mode and drop my gaze.
“I was just wondering when you’re going to tell me why you’re here?” I lie, internally patting myself on the back for a quick recovery.
“That answer was dishonest, Scion,” a large male announces out of nowhere.
I launch a glare in the direction of the Thrasher I forgot was even there. Lorn’s guards are quieter and more adept at blending in with the scenery than Aeson’s. The male’s beard and ponytail are the exact same dark brown color as his scale armor, but his eyes are a rich swirl of green and gold. The unusual hue stares me down, daring me to deny the lie he just caught me in.
Dick.
Lorn turns to me expectantly with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. I keep my eyes trained on the Thrasher, unwilling to confirm or deny anything.
“What’s your name?” I ask the giant lie-detector pain-in-my-ass.
“Selik,” he tells me, an annoying gleam in his pretty swirling eyes.
“I forgot that you haven’t met everyone,” Lorn murmurs apologetically. “This is Onalar and Lyndry,” he introduces, waving in the direction of a green-armored Channeler and a Burner brandishing bright orange scale armor.
I exchange nods with Lorn’s Wing members and then turn back to the scion.
“Really though, what do you want, Heir?”
Lorn laughs and presses a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Princess. Can’t I catch up with a friend, see how she’s doing?”
“We’re not friends.”
“But we could be,” he counters, not missing a beat.
I study his face, his body language, the teasing glint in his light blue eyes. He’s abandoned the crisp white suit and cape I last saw him in for a more relaxed, black-and-white fitted jacket and matching pants. It almost looks like he’s wearing fancy moto gear, but the neck of the jacket wraps halfway up his throat, and there’s a panel in the back that resembles outdated tuxedo tails. I’m sure it’s the height of men’s fashion here in Paragon City, but it looks entirely too fussy for me to truly appreciate, even if it does highlight every chiseled inch of Lorn’s gargantuan frame.
My eyes flick dismissively from the heir back to the event below us. “I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”
Lorn chuckles, not at all deterred by my rejection. He follows my gaze and turns to watch a drake run full tilt down the runway below before shifting into a lean chartreuse dragon. A weighted silence slips between us. One that breaks when Lorn finally turns back to me, his powder blue eyes filled to the brim with calm confidence.
“I have something I want to show you.” A lock of white hair dares to drift down over his forehead, and he brushes it back, his eyes set intently on me.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly anxious.
“Let’s let it be a surprise.”
I roll my eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of my head. “Not a chance. I hate surprises.”
