“Uncle?” Golden gave Buck a second, longer appraisal. Apparently he had just become aninterestingdung heap, one that might be useful. “By blood?”
“If by that you mean, am I a motherloving shifter,” Buck began.
“Yes,” Zephyr cut in, shooting him a look that clearly stated:For the love of all that’s holy, please shut up.“Like myself, Buck is descended from the great Thunderbird spirits, and carries some of their power. We are very fortunate to have him here this year. I am certain the campers will learn a great deal from such a powerful alpha.”
Golden’s eyes narrowed. Buck abruptly felt a crushing sense of pressure, like a vast weight dropping onto his shoulders. His scar burned in answer, flaring pain through his veins.
Buck’s knees buckled. Only sheer cussedness kept him on his feet. Gritting his teeth, he held the dragon shifter’s stare, refusing to look away.
Zephyr broke the deadlock. “May I ask what brings you here, Lord Golden? While you are of course always welcome, we were not expecting you to grace us with a personal visit.”
Golden blinked at last, and the sense of weight vanished. Buck sucked in air, trying not to wheeze. His ribs felt like the man had shifted into his other form and sat on him. He was glad he’d told Honey to get out of sight.
The dragon shifter treated Buck to a last lingering, thoughtful stare before turning to Zephyr. “I would not normally trifle with such petty matters, but in this case I felt it necessary to make an exception. I hope my presence impresses upon you the utmost importance of your task.”
“It does indeed,” Zephyr replied. “Though there was really no need to take time from your busy schedule. Here at Camp Thunderbird,everycamper is equally important to us.”
Golden did not appear to find this statement reassuring. He swept the camp with the same supercilious assessment he’d given Buck. From the curl of his lip, he was far from impressed.
“Given the scale of my investment, I expected something considerably less rustic,” he said. “But I suppose it will have to do. You received my list of requirements?”
“I did indeed.” The slightest wince crossed Zephyr’s face. “They were… extensive.”
“Naturally.” Golden minutely adjusted the position of a jeweled cufflink. “A dragon must always protect his treasure, and I am entrusting you with the greatest treasure of all. Security is of paramount concern. You followed my instructions to the letter?”
Zephyr didn’t bat an eye. “I gave them all due consideration.”
“Heh,” Buck said under his breath. He was pretty sure that translated as ‘I balled up the whole list and tossed it in the trash.’
Golden shot him a brief, suspicious look. Buck did his best to imitate Zephyr’s expression of polite blandness, which was damn hard with his scar still throbbing like a bastard. The cursed thing seemed to be trying to gnaw through his arm.
“I trust it goes without saying that the future of my continued investment in this place rests on this summer,” Lord Golden said to Zephyr, with no sign that he was aware of the irony of this statement. “If you wish me to continue to fund your charity cases, you had best ensure that there is no cause for complaint.”
“Your generosity is matched only by your nobility,” Zephyr said, which was Zeph for ‘fuck you in the eye with a rusty spoon.’ “We will endeavor to ensure you receive a glowing report.”
“See that you do.” Golden looked around. “Now, where is this counselor? I must personally inspect him.”
Zephyr must have anticipated this request, because he turned, sweeping out an arm. Following the gesture, Buck caught sight of Moira hurrying toward them. To his slight surprise, she was on her own. There was no sign of her ever-present bodyguard.
“Thank you for joining us, Moira,” Zephyr greeted her. There was a slight query in his tone. “Where is—?”
“I’m afraid my co-counselor is busy settling the new arrivals right now,” Moira said, cutting across Zephyr. She locked eyes with him as she spoke. “He sends his sincere apologies.”
From the way Zephyr blanched, Buck guessed she’d spiked an urgent telepathic message into his brain. Evidently a large volume of bovine excrement had just hit the metaphorical fan.
“Moira, this is Lord Golden,” Zephyr said, recovering his usual air of unflappable calm. He turned to the dragon shifter. “Lord Golden, allow me to present Moira. I am sure you will find her most suitable.”
Lord Golden looked Moira up and down, lingering on the telltale silver charms braided into her hair. His lip curled. “A sea dragon?”
“Indeed she is,” Zephyr said. “Is there some problem with that?”
“I ordered you to find someone suitable,” Golden said, still looking at Moira as though she was something he’d found on the bottom of his polished dress shoe. “Not a jumped-up fish.”
Only someone who knew Zephyr very, very well would have been able to spot the shift in his expression. Buck, who did, had a sudden heartfelt wish that they were having this conversation somewhere other than an open field. When Zephyr looked like that, things tended to get stormy fast.
“Moira is one of my most valued staff members,” Zephyr said mildly. A cloud that hadn’t been there a second ago drifted across the sun, casting them all into shadow. “As well as a close personal friend. She also happens to be—”
“I do not wish to cause any trouble,” Moira interrupted, spearing Zephyr with another urgent, covert look. “If Lord Golden is unhappy with my appointment, perhaps we should offer a replacement? I am sure we must have someone he would find more acceptable.”
