Page 27 of Dragon’s Rogue

“So, she didn’t see you, but when someone came looking for him, they still came here where you are. Why here?”

“Good question.” The words came out slowly. Rebel was looking off into the distance, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, like Tempest did when she was worried. Or like she was trying to scrub something off her skin.

This didn’t make any sense. Unless the things making Tempest anxious right now were true, and they were all connected to the shadow that she kept seeing in her mind. Rebel, the witch, and the other thief.

And Tempest.

Another stab of anxiety hit her in the stomach, and her fingers twitched, wanting to pick up her pen and write until it went away.

Rebel asked, “Do you know who he is? You said you’d never seen him in person, but…” she let her voice trail off.

Tempest nodded. She didn’t like to lie, but it was easier than you’d think to tell the truth without really telling it. Like she’d done with faux-Elizabeth. “I’ve seen him before.” She paused, then finished softly, “But only in my head.”

Chapter 14

Blaze lifted a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and descended two steps into Jean-Claude D’Amboise’s massive sunken living room. She had on her sexiest black dress, one that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her heels were stupidly high but they made her legs look fabulous, and her bra encased her boobs like armor.

Her whole outfit was both armor and a weapon. Seductive clothing and makeup to draw the right people in, and a veneer of untouchable beauty to keep them from getting too close.

It was a fine line to walk, but she’d been doing it for five years. Ever since she left her last teacher and set up shop in Portland.

Ever since she met Jean-Claude, and he took a liking to her.

The problem was, Jean-Claude was Jean-Claude, even if he liked you. Cynical, egotistical, power-hungry, and full of himself. Any favor he did for you, he made you pay for, one way or another.

He was a powerful man, in all sorts of ways. Anyone in Portland’s magical community who got on the wrong side of Jean-Claude didn’t last long.

Luckily for Blaze, she was powerful too. Powerful enough for Jean-Claude to have more respect for her than he had for most people.

She didn’t delude herself that that would keep him from turning on her, though, if she didn’t suck up to him the way he wanted.

The way he expected.

She waited her turn while he laughed and chatted with others in the room. Blaze knew nearly all of them, by sight and reputation. Those she didn’t know were on the periphery, hoping to gain Jean-Claude’s notice. Not worth worrying about.

Finally Blaze saw her chance. She cut off a minor witch from the Red Star coven who was making her way towards Jean-Claude, and touched him lightly on the sleeve of his expensive, exquisitely tailored jacket. “Bon soir, mon ami,” she said, giving him the French greeting and kissing him on both cheeks.

“Bon soir, cherie,” he replied. “You look wonderful.”

“So do you.” It was a lie. He’d aged since the last time she’d seen him, the lines around his eyes and mouth growing more pronounced. And his energy felt… off. Darker.

No one knew how old Jean-Claude was. He was still handsome, and looked to be in his fifties. Blaze had the suspicion he was quite a bit older than that.

This was the first time she’d seen him looking like he might be feeling his age—but she’d never say so. That would be suicide.

“Are you enjoying my little soiree?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

She gestured to the room. It was filled with crystal glasses and crystal chandeliers, expensive food and expensive artwork. Expensive people.

She was lying, of course. It all made her feel claustrophobic and a little nauseated, but she couldn’t worry about that. She needed information.

“Where have you been, mon amie?” he asked. “It’s been ages since I saw you. Have you been hiding your acquisitions from me?”

“Jean-Claude, you know I have no secrets from you,” she said, flirting with him over her champagne glass. Another blatant lie. They both knew she was full of secrets. He’d been trying for years to find out her real identity, but she and her first teacher had scrubbed that clean years ago, with a mix of technology and magic.

He’d never find it. No one would ever connect her with the Silver Raven coven that way.