“I love what the King's done with the place,” I drawled.
“This is the entry room.” The Commander glanced at me. “It's for defense.”
“Oh, I see.” I rarely felt foolish, and feeling so now rattled my confidence.
I drew back further into my hood as the Commander opened another door and ushered me into a room full of dainty chairs and those couches with a curved high end on one side that were meant for one person to sprawl on. So, really, they're just another type of chair. A Dragon man sat on one of those couches/chairs, books spread around him, taking up the space he was supposed to sprawl upon. He set down a book and stood up when he saw us.
“Commander, you were successful?” The Dragon was blond, buff, and beautiful. Even better, his striking blue stare met mine without even a hint of fear or fascination.
“Indeed, although only partially so,” Commander Marzon said.
“How do you mean?”
“I haven't agreed yet,” I said. “I want to know what the job is first.”
The blond Dragon grimaced and looked at the Commander.
“I don't think it's an unreasonable request,” Commander Marzon said. “He's going to have to know what he's after anyway.”
“I'm here to speak with the King,” I said. “Where is he?”
Both the Commander and the blond lifted their brows at me.
“How do you know I'm not the King?” the blond asked.
“I may live in the bad part of the city, but I still know the Dragon King is a redhead.”
The Commander snorted in amusement. “He's got you there, Lord Juri.”
Lord Juri screwed up his pretty face in annoyance. “Very well, I'm not the King. I'm his adviser, and you will deal with me.”
I looked from the King's Adviser to the Commander of the Castle Guard as a tingle went down my spine. Something was off. I mean, the whole situation was strange, but it had just gotten stranger, and there was only so much I'd put up with before I took the hint.
“No,” I said and turned around.
“Hold on!” The Commander grabbed my arm.
That was a mistake.
I spun as I took shadowform, sliding into near-invisibility. In that form, I was still solid, and Marzon still had a hold of me, but I startled him enough that he let me go. I could also see auras in that form, since it was my essence, and when I touched someone or was touched by someone, I could feel their intentions. I felt the Commander's before he released me. They were enough to make me lower my weapon.
The Commander's intentions, as cliché as this sounds, were honorable. He didn't mean me any harm. He simply desperately wanted me to stay.
I released my shadowform as I sheathed my corkscrew dagger with a practiced spin of my wrists. “I want to speak to the King. When I take a job, I speak with the client. I'm not a fucking assassin who prefers a middleman. I need to know exactly what he expects from me.”
The flustered Commander rubbed his red face—red because of his race, not his desperation—and looked at Lord Juri.
“The King is indisposed,” Lord Juri said. “I will tell you about the job, but you cannot speak with His Majesty.”
“I was told the King wanted to hire me,” I said. “Now let me speak with him or I'm leaving.” I looked at the Commander to add, “And if you want to keep your shiny, black horns on your head, you won't try to stop me again.”
The Commander's eyes widened as he lifted a hand to touch his left horn.
“You impudent little—” Lord Juri started to say.
“Enough,” a weary voice came from my left, cutting Juri off.
I followed the sound to the archway of a corridor. A hunched form stumbled out of it. Long, crimson hair hung wild around the man's face, hiding him from my sight, and even taking into consideration the way he was pulled in on himself, I could see that he didn't have the robust build of most Dragon men. He was downright skeletal.
