She didn’t want to be worried. She wanted this mission to be everything it wasn’t. She wanted it to besimple.“The ship is designed to offer a six-to-one guest to crew ratio. Not including guests’ personal staff they bring on board themselves. There are so many more people on board than just…”
“Just the ones hunting down the dragons in their lair?”
How could he say that so coolly? She glanced at him and understood at once. His flat responses, his emotionless face—it was all a mask to keep himself safe.
She looked down. *How can they bring so many people with them to kidnap your family?*
*The same way Gerald Harper required a fully staffed resort to run his blood sport.*
Her breath caught. Of course. This was nothing new to Julian. And she—
She hated it. She hated it with a vicious rage that was so familiar it made her nauseous. She wanted to find the person who’d done this to him,everyperson who’d seen him asHarper’s prisoner and done nothing about it, and tear them to pieces.
“Francine?”
She blinked. “Yes?”
“Are you…” Julian’s voice trailed off. She followed his gaze to her coffee cup.
No. Not the cup. Her hand. Where her manicure had been replaced by dark claws.
She hissed a curse and hid her lioness’s claws, flexing her fingers until she was sure they were gone.
The rage.Herrage. The rage of a lioness who wanted to protect and ended up destroying everything.
Hadn’t she learned her lesson the last time?
“I don’t like the cold,” she said, as though that explained it. *We need to talk about your abilities.*
*Do we?*
She frowned at him.*The security here are fitted out with your—with your scales.*A flash of memory: scales like night cut through with oil-slick aurora, closing around her. Burned and cracked. Her throat tightened. Everywhere she looked these days, people seemed to have one of the shadow dragon scales tucked into a holster. She had one, in her purse. All torn from Julian’s body.
How badly hurt had he been even before the explosion?
“Francine.” Julian’s voice held a tone of warning—and something worse. Concern.
This time, she was barely surprised to see claws sprouting from her fingertips. She flexed them back in, making a frustrated noise.
*I need to know the extent of your magic’s capabilities,*she said shortly.
He sighed. *You already know that skin contact with a shadow dragon’s scale turns the bearer invisible.*
*Yes. You called it—the shadow world?*
He blinked, surprised. *Yes. At its shallowest level—you simply fall out of sight.*
*Are there deeper levels?*
*Yes.*
The silence stretched out, and she tightened her jaw. *Are you going to tell me what they are?*
*What will you do if I do not?*
There was a challenge in his thoughts that she wasn’t sure he meant her to notice. She sat back. *What do you think? That I’ll force you?*
He made a face. *Perhaps you would simply remind me that our survival depends on sharing knowledge, not hoarding it. I’m sorry. I—am still unused to trusting the people around me.*
