by T. A. White
She sent him a reassuring look that he returned with a somber chin tilt.
She resumed her perusal of the ballroom, spotting Dewdrop and Daisy easily. To Tate’s relief, most of those gathered around them were the younger crowd. Not much older than Dewdrop and Daisy.
Tate didn’t know if that was intentional or not, but it made her relax a little. She wasn’t naive enough to think the younger generation didn’t have fangs and claws, but she also knew they likely weren’t as adept at using them yet. With Dewdrop’s street smarts and Daisy’s quiet persistence, the two should be able to deal with any problems that arose.
Tate frowned when she didn’t see Night and Mia around the two. Roslyn joined her as she scanned the ballroom, still trying to spot the Veles.
She missed them the first time. It was only on the second pass that she caught the flick of Night’s tail and Mia where she stood a few feet from him, an intent expression on her face.
“Why does it look like they’re stalking the Obsidian Lord?” Tate asked herself.
Maybe they’re hungry, Ilith volunteered.
Tate ignored the dragon and watched the two. Yup. They were definitely stalking him. And here Tate was, thinking he’d gotten over that terrible habit.
Apparently not. It seemed he’d simply changed his focus from the old lord to the new.
Tate’s preoccupation with Night and Mia’s behavior made her too slow to react as the Obsidian Lord and his companion approached.
It was someone Tate recognized. The dragon slayer that Blaise and the rest had treated with hostility.
“Cousin,” George greeted Roslyn with a frosty voice.
That was enough to draw Tate out of her contemplation. She shot both women surprised looks. “Cousin?”
Why did no one ever tell her these things?
“Yes, I have the displeasure of being related to Roslyn Spiritly, formerly the daughter of my uncle, the Duke of Spiritly.” George stared Roslyn down, radiating a coldness that hadn’t been there even when she was addressing the dragon-ridden.
“It’s as she said,” Roslyn said after some hesitation.
Tate looked between the two, not missing the rising tension.
“I think I now have a better understanding of your earlier concerns,” Tate said after a long moment.
Warmth entered Roslyn’s expression as one side of her mouth quirked. “I appreciate that.”
The chilliness radiating off George deepened as the other woman frowned, not following their conversation. Tate’s answering smile was probably every bit as irritating as she’d hoped, judging by the way the very air around George seemed to freeze.
Roslyn covered her mouth, turning her laugh into a cough.
“The Obsidian Lord, I assume,” Tate said, abruptly tiring of dealing with whatever issue George had. “I’m Tate Fisher.”
“I know who you are.”
“Does that mean you’re going to introduce yourself?”
It was probably not the wisest of responses, but really, she couldn’t help herself. What was she supposed to call him? Lord? She could see why his order had so many issues if that was the case.
Anyone so narcissistic was bound to have a few crazies following him.
“Archibald Riven.”
“Archie,” Tate said on impulse, relishing the way his expression changed. It seemed he didn’t like that nickname. Too bad. Nicknames—especially one’s people didn’t like—were her specialty.
He would be Archie to her forever more.
“You are exactly how they describe you.”
Tate sketched a short bow. “Thank you.”
Since she had a feeling she knew what words they’d used—antagonistic, she-demon, nuisance—she was going to consider them compliments.
Who didn’t rejoice in their ability to drive others mad from frustration?
“Come, my lord, the emperor is still waiting to see us,” George said with an impassive expression.
Archie made a soft sound of agreement, sweeping past. He paused when his shoulder brushed Tate’s. “I’d appreciate it if you would have your friend stop spying on me. It is un-befitting behavior for someone who was just declared sentient. If others knew, they might assume he was nothing more than an animal.”
Tate’s gaze shot to the perfectly concealed Night. Mia was a little more obtrusive but nothing in her behavior would suggest she was stalking Archie.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. My friend was simply coming to find me.”
Archie’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, leaving them colder and harder than before, like little chips of diamonds. “Is that so?”
Tate didn’t respond as he and George took their leave. Roslyn sent Tate a sympathetic glance before drifting into the crowd.
Finally, Tate could relax. Her shoulders slumped as she released a breath.
His presence was unexpectedly intimidating. Standing next to him felt like standing next to an apex predator—like he could rip out her throat before she even noticed.
“What the hell, Night?” Tate asked, knowing he could hear her.
As if by magic, he appeared out of the crowd, slinking to her side and sitting. His amber eyes were fastened on Archie’s back.
There’s something wrong with his smell.
“Do you know what?”
Night shook his head hard, his fur sliding back and forth as he rose to four legs.
“No, but it’s quite interesting.” Mia joined them. “One might even say it’s inhuman.”
There weren’t a lot of options if that was the case. Sleeper. Or one of their descendants.
Tate stayed silent, not daring to say the words out loud. The ramification if this was true felt too big. What would happen if the Black Order realized the man they’d chosen as their leader was part of the very group they loathed?
SEVEN
“You know Archie spotted you,” Tate told the two Veles.
Night chuffed. Impossible.
“Oh, really? Because he said as much. To my face.” Tate pointed at the face in question before dropping her hand. “It was all cloak and dagger. Vague references filled with threat. Quite thrilling really.”
I don’t get caught. Night’s tail thrashed.
Someone was certainly arrogant. Granted, he had cause. He really was good at the whole stalking thing. Or at least he had been before a certain Obsidian Lord picked up on his game.
Tate rolled her eyes as she started moving in Dewdrop and Daisy’s direction. Night prowled after her.
I don’t, he said defensively.
“Argue all you like but the fact is Archie figured out you were tailing him and used it to not so subtly threaten you and I.”
Night’s eyes narrowed to slits. After a brief moment, his accusing gaze slid toward Mia.
Oh boy. Tate didn’t think her friend knew quite the hell that was about to rain down on him. He was bold—if suicidal. She’d give him that.
“I highly recommend you keep whatever you’re about to say to yourself.” Mia’s face was remote as she finally looked at Night’s direction. Death rolled off her, giving Tate an imminent feeling of danger. Enough that Ilith flooded her body with strength. Just in case.
Tate eased back, not wanting to get caught between the two predators in case they decided to settle their differences with violence.
Night was the first to look away. Tate’s lips twitched at the sight. Finally, her friend was showing a bit of sense.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” Mia bit out. She stalked away without waiting for a response, her passage as silent and effortless as her arrival.
“I don’t know if you’re dumb or brave.” Tate watched Mia stalk away. Despite the anger stiffening her spine, every step was precise and effortless. “She’s a Veles, same as you, with all the pride and stubbornness that comes with it. Even if you don’t like her, there’s no reason to be mean.”
Night avoided her gaze, his ears lowering. I’ll apologiz
e.
“Good.” Tate nodded in emphasis. Although she acted like his concession was a foregone conclusion, privately she was surprised. Night usually pretended ignorance when he did something wrong. It was something all three of them had in common. If you didn’t acknowledge the fault, it must mean the fault didn’t exist.
He must care more about the Veles woman than he let on. Tate watched Night out of the corner of her eyes, noting how he kept looking in Mia’s direction.
“Only you would dare insinuate the Harridan’s assassin’s stalking skills weren’t up to your standards.” Tate lifted a hand to hide her snicker. If she thought about it, it was pretty funny. Mia’s reaction and the way her arrogant friend had gone silent would stay with her for a long time.
I still say it’s impossible that any two-legger could pick up on my presence.
“You also said he wasn’t quite normal either.”
That doesn’t mean anything. Night lifted a lip, exposing a fang in an expression Tate had learned meant disgust—or anger. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Night.
Dewdrop lifted a hand in greeting as Tate and Night reached him. She was about to speak when a suspicious face beyond his shoulder caught her attention.
A man was staring intently at their group. Tate didn’t know how long he’d been there, but his interest was obvious. The rest of the gathering might as well not have existed, ebbing and flowing around him as if he was a boulder placed in the middle of a river. It was that very immovability that attracted Tate’s notice.
As if feeling her eyes on him, his gaze shifted, meeting hers. He turned away, hiding himself in the crowd almost immediately.
It wasn’t fast enough.
Tate recognized his amber eyes, the chestnut brown hair with caramel highlights, the muscular frame. She knew if she looked at his hands, she’d find each finger shorter than it should have been with scarring at the tips. Declawing a Silva was a practice that had long since been forbidden, making the fact he’d had it done all the more mysterious.
Their acquaintance hadn’t been long, but he had left an impression. Kidnappers who you suspected of being the shadowy mastermind behind an insane man often did.
“Peter,” Tate whispered in near disbelief.
“What?” Are you sure? Dewdrop and Night asked at the same time.
They whirled to try to spot the man Tate had seen.
At that exact moment, an unseen force punched Tate in the chest. Ilith cried out as a feeling of home washed over them. An invisible tether tugging as if trying to summon them.
Tate could feel Ilith reaching for that sense of homecoming when a loud boom shook the palace. The thread leading to that feeling of home snapped as the windows of the ballroom exploded inward amid screams from the crowd.
Tate staggered and fell to her knees.
“Tate!”
Tate!
Tate curled around the gaping hole the tether had left, trying to get her equilibrium again. Whatever that had been had left a wound in her psyche. Ilith whimpered in the corner of her mind. The dragon curled in on herself and didn’t respond when Tate sent waves of reassurance.
Tate opened her eyes to find Dewdrop’s concerned face in front of hers. Night had placed a paw on the hand she’d used to steady herself against the floor.
“I’m alright. How are the rest of us?”
“I’m safe.” Daisy’s voice was thin and high, not giving much credence to her words.
When Tate glanced at her, it was to find the girl’s eyes wide, fear stamped on her face. Despite that, her gaze was steady and there was no sign of her dragon taking over to protect them. Tate considered that a win.
In the next second, a strong pair of arms encircled her, pressing her head against a muscular chest. The smell of a thunderstorm on a summer day wrapped around her. Tate relaxed, knowing who held her.
“Are you alright?” Ryu’s chest rumbled under her ear.
“Did you feel it to?”
She felt rather than heard his agreement.
“You know what it is?” Tate tilted her head to look up at Ryu. Concern and worry crouched deep in his eyes even as he struggled to project calm.
His thumb caressed the line of her jaw. “Do you remember when I was in the coma for a few days?”
How could Tate forget? That experience had brought home exactly what Ryu meant to her. Facing the span of centuries without him had threatened to send her to a very dark place.
“Where I went had that same feeling.”
“Home.” Somehow the word felt right. Almost like it was fate.
“Someone’s home at least.” There was a meaningful look in Ryu’s serious expression that hinted at what Tate already suspected on some level.
The realm the dragons called home. Somehow, and Tate had no clue how, they’d tapped into that place, however briefly.
“How’s Rath? Ilith’s nearly catatonic.”
Ryu closed his eyes, unspeakable loss momentarily written on his face. He regained his composure in the next second, his expression settling into a guarded mask when he opened his eyes again. “Bereft.”
Yeah. That was a good word for it.
“Did you feel it too?” Tate asked Daisy.
Only confusion registered on the other girl’s face, leaving Tate to assume that Daisy had no idea what they were talking about.
“Ryu, I saw Peter just before,” Tate started when someone raced into the room.
“Fire. Fire in the palace.”
Those who’d managed to find their feet, raced for the balcony doors and the easy exit they provided. Ryu pulled Tate to him as they were buffeted by the suddenly panicked crowd.
All the while, Ryu’s gaze searched the room.
Tate spotted the emperor at the same time he did. Surrounded by his private guards, with Thora and the Lord Provost cutting a path against the tide of bodies.
It was easy to see how torn Ryu was. Tate on one side and his emperor on the other. Ryu didn’t give his loyalty easily. Asking him to choose between the two of them would be like asking him which arm he should cut off.
Tate had no intention of letting him make that choice.
It might have been different if she was a defenseless woman with no skills of her own, but she was bonded to the most badass dragon that ever lived. Even if that dragon was currently curled into a ball, trying to recover from the emotional wound events had dealt her.
“Go. Protect the emperor; I’ve got Peter.”
By now, the emperor and his people had reached them.
“We need to get somewhere safe,” the Lord Provost instructed.
Tate squeezed Ryu’s hand in reassurance.
In response, he cupped the back of her neck, bringing her lips to his. Heat spread from the places where they touched. Passion and desperation mixing with fear and need.
Ryu drew back before the kiss could deepen further, dropping a quick kiss onto each eyelid. “Don’t get hurt.”
He strode away, not looking back as he took the lead. The emperor chanced one last glance in Tate’s direction as Thora lingered.
“I’m going with you,” Dewdrop said.
“No.” Tate waved off Dewdrop’s objections. “Someone else needs you more.”
She sent a significant look in Daisy’s direction.
Dewdrop looked frozen. The same struggle she’d seen on Ryu’s face present in his. How lucky was she to have people who loved her this much? So much that they would act against their own instincts if she asked it.
She was truly blessed. Ilith had been right earlier. She wasn’t alone. Too many people walked beside her for that.
“What about you?” Dewdrop asked, sounding lost.
Tate snickered. “I have a dragon. Do you really think Ilith would let me get hurt? Help Thora protect Daisy and the others. We don’t know if this is a misdirect.”
There had been no indication that whoever caused this was going after the dragonlettes but that feeling of home nagged at her. If this
was something to do with the dragon-ridden or if they were the targets, the most vulnerable of them would bear the brunt.
Thora and Tate looked at each other, similar thoughts running through their minds. He nodded once in understanding.
“Come, Daisy, we need to get you to a safe place,” Thora said.
Dewdrop’s hands clenched as resignation filled his face. “I understand. I’ll do my best.”
Tate gave him a soft smile, reaching out and rubbing his head. He didn’t fight her, letting her do what she wanted. Growing up and realizing you wouldn’t always be able to protect everyone was hard. Sometimes you had to pick and choose based on the situation at hand. It was a harsh lesson she’d hoped none of them would ever have to learn.
“Night, you’re with me. I have a feeling I’m going to need your talents,” Tate said in a grim voice.
Peter had slipped away during the final battle against Nathan. This time was going to be different. Let the hunt begin.
* * *
Tate and Night left the others behind, slipping through the same door Peter escaped from earlier. The air was thick with smoke, the irritant sending Tate into a coughing spasm. She tugged the collar of her shirt up, ducking her nose into it, hoping it would help.
“You sense anything?” Tate managed to choke out.
Nothing. But we need to get out of here. We won’t find him if we suffocate to death.
Night’s mental voice sounded a lot better than Tate’s real one. Listening to it, you’d never know they were in a hallway, smoke threatening to suffocate them.
Must be nice to be able to communicate telepathically sometimes.
This way. Night cut through the survivors, heading for the nearest exit. Tate kept her gaze trained on Night’s back as they moved quickly through the hallway. They joined the crowd streaming out the formal entry of the palace, arriving on the circular gravel driveway that was surrounded by well-maintained lawns.
Tate looked around, scanning for her prey.
Peter was nowhere to be found; nothing more than a ghost at this point.
Maybe if Tate had acted faster. Taken less time to gain her bearings after the attack. Too late now. There was no use thinking of what could have been.