by T. A. White
Hurry. Hurry. Must move faster or she’d lose.
Tate raced out of her room, leaving Ryu behind. Morning in this house meant it was every person for themselves.
Tate reached the stairs and leapt down a flight. She drew on the dragon’s speed to race through the hallways. She reached the main hall in seconds, the rug sliding under her as she windmilled her arms to keep her balance. Tate made a note to remind the boys to move the rug to a safer place or get rid of it entirely. It was a useless affectation in a household such as theirs.
She rounded a corner, leaving the death rug behind. Almost there. Even better, she couldn’t sense any of the others. Looked like it was her win today.
Tate was already grinning as she burst through the threshold of the dining hall. Her grin dropped from her face as the twins cocked their heads at her from where they crouched on the buffet table. They’d changed their paws into furry hands which they were using to stuff their faces as quickly as they could.
At Tate’s entrance, they froze. Their cheeks bulged out and the food looked like it had been mauled by a pack of starving wolves.
“Oh no, you don’t. Those are mine.”
The twins’ eyes widened in alarm, and they started shoveling the food into their mouths faster.
Tate crossed the room in a few powerful strides, grabbing one of the twins, Pax, and tossing him behind her. Willa evaded her reach, scooping up an armful of the tarts and scurrying off the buffet table.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Tate growled following her. “You stole them all yesterday too. It’s my turn today.”
“Off dkaf voaltr sgkfps.” To most, Willa’s garbled words would be unintelligible, but Tate understood their meaning well enough. To the victor goes the spoils. She should, considering she was the one who first started using that saying.
“Not today, brat.” Tate was quicker than Willa, snagging her by the back of the neck and lifting her up.
Pax yowled, throwing himself at Tate’s leg.
She snarled at the pinpricks of pain as he dug his claws into her clothes, trying to climb her in the same way he would a tree.
“Get off, get off. Not the claws, what did I tell you about the claws?” Tate screamed.
There was a thump from the dining room door and the three of them froze in place. Dewdrop glared at them, panting.
Like Tate, he’d just woken up. His shirt was half buttoned and only one sleeve of his jacket was on. His pants lacked a belt and he had one shoe-clad foot while the other was missing both shoe and sock.
His gaze locked on Willa where she dangled in Tate’s hand, the tarts still cradled to her chest.
“Oh no,” Tate said at his audible inhale.
Pax used her as a springboard, leaping away. Tate dropped Willa and dove for the floor at the same time a screech sounded above her. She swore and covered her ears.
“Not in the dining room!”
The banshee scream stopped. Seconds later, the sound of scampering feet came.
“Block the door. Don’t let them escape,” Tate yelled.
Dewdrop crouched; his arms spread wide as Pax ran toward him.
Some might call Tate cruel for trying to take food from the children—but those people didn’t know the twins. They were bottomless pits of hunger who would consume everything in the house, leaving nothing for anyone else—except maybe their father. And then only if he caught them in the act.
Other people also didn’t have a dragon ramping up their metabolism, and they’d never tasted the sublime tarts her cook made. They were worth getting a little bloody. Tate would wager even the emperor would get into fisticuffs if he tasted them. They were nirvana come to earth.
While Dewdrop grappled with Pax, Tate snagged Willa.
A roar from the window pulled their attention away from the battle. Willa had one foot pressed against Tate’s face to keep her away from the tarts, while Pax had his teeth embedded in Dewdrop’s arm and Dewdrop was biting Pax’s ear in retaliation.
Night perched on the windowsill, watching them with an expressionless gaze.
Willa extended one of the five tarts she held to Night. The Veles took it carefully before disappearing out the window as silently as he’d come.
“No, not the tarts,” Tate moaned.
Taking advantage of her distraction, Willa wiggled free from Tate’s hold. Jostled by the commotion several tarts fell on the table where she landed.
Sensing victory, Tate dove. She snagged one and stuffed it in her mouth before either of the other three could take it from her. Dewdrop and Pax scrambled forward as Willa raced for the window Night had left open.
Pax grabbed two of the remaining tarts and followed his sister.
Dewdrop grabbed the last and stuffed it half in his mouth.
“Get back here,” Tate yelled, giving chase. “You had your fill. Those are ours.”
They disappeared out the window with the last two tarts.
“You really should do something about those two.” Dewdrop rested the side of his face against the table as he munched happily on his tart.
Tate didn’t respond, finally noticing Ryu propped against the doorway with his arms folded.
She lifted her chin, not ashamed in the slightest to be caught acting childish. In this house, meals were a battle won only through nefarious means. The dining room was a reflection of that. The furniture was made of sturdy material that could take the abuse they heaped onto it. There were nicks and dings throughout. Glass had been removed from everywhere but the windows after the third time Dewdrop shattered it.
As crazy as their antics seemed, it was Tate’s favorite part of every day.
“I don’t suppose anything remains?” Ryu asked, scanning the table.
“They’ll bring more out soon.” Tate plopped down in a chair opposite Dewdrop.
“But not tarts,” Dewdrop moaned. “Those are gone because of those greedy guts.”
Ryu pushed off the door frame and sauntered toward Tate. “Having fun?”
She lifted her head as he bent toward her, dropping a kiss on her lips. Dewdrop gagged.
“Of course.”
Tate’s lips curled, already planning the next breakfast heist. Tomorrow, she’d make sure she got her fair share. And no pretty dragon man was going to distract her this time.
“What’s the plan for today?” Dewdrop asked, not moving his head from his folded arms.
“I thought we’d give Christopher a visit.”
Dewdrop propped his chin on his arms to peer up at Tate with an incredulous expression. “You got permission? How did you manage that?”
Tate lifted a shoulder. “I have my ways.”
Dewdrop fixed Ryu with a look as a woman entered carrying a platter of eggs, a plate of rolls and a delicious roasted tomato dish.
“She was quite convincing,” Ryu murmured.
“You mean she insulted someone.”
The woman set the dishes down on the table before shooting a glance at the decimated buffet. “I see you lot are as uncivilized as ever.”
“Blame the twins,” Dewdrop perked up at the sight of the food, reaching for it. Tate blocked his hand, yanking the dish toward her first and scooping half the eggs onto her plate.
Dewdrop sneered and snatched the entire basket of rolls, cradling it to his chest.
Tate narrowed her eyes at him. “You only get one.”
“Who says?”
The woman cuffed him on the back of his head, doing the same to Tate seconds later. “Share. I’m not making any more.”
She headed for the doorway, shaking her head as she muttered. “How did Roslyn talk me into serving this bunch?”
Without a word, Ryu took Tate’s plate, dumping a quarter of the eggs onto his own before taking a smaller portion from the main dish. Finished, he pushed it toward Dewdrop and held out his hand.
Dewdrop grudgingly turned over all but two of the biscuits which Ryu distributed to his and Tate’s plates. Next, he picked up the tomato
dish, spooning an even amount onto each as well.
He did it all with the ease of someone who’d witnessed and dealt with situations similar to this a thousand times. Tate and Dewdrop were silent for several seconds before picking up their silverware.
“Don’t expect this to work on the twins,” Tate warned before tucking into the food.
Dewdrop didn’t even bother with a response while inhaling his breakfast.
“We’ll see,” Ryu said with a twitch to his lips.
They’d only made it halfway through their breakfast when the doorbell chimed, the slightly irritating notes echoing throughout the house. Neither Tate nor Dewdrop moved even when the chimes came again.
The third time the chimes sounded the woman screamed from the back of the house. “Get the door!”
Tate kicked Dewdrop under the table. “She’s talking to you.”
“You need more servants,” he said with a full mouth.
Says the boy who’d never had a servant in his life.
“When you pay for one, we can get another.”
A roar and then a scream came from the front of Tate’s house. Tate’s sigh was echoed by Dewdrop as they looked at each other.
“Night,” they said in unison.
“He must have gotten irritated by the sound. I’d better go save whoever it is.” Dewdrop climbed to his feet and strolled out of the room while carrying his plate.
“Hanging in there?” Tate asked Ryu.
“I find the atmosphere quite enjoyable.” Seeing her skeptical look, he murmured, “Your home is very happy. Seeing the way you interact with each other reminds me of my family.”
Tate raised an eyebrow at him. “I doubt they acted anything like us.”
Maybe if they were a dysfunctional family, but somehow, Tate doubted that. Ryu gave the impression of being too well adjusted for that. She pictured his parents as genteel, elegant people. His younger sister as a cute and adorable imp. Mischievous, but only up to a point. Night, Dewdrop, and the twins were more like feral wildlings who only pretended at being civilized under the most extreme of circumstances.
“You’d be surprised,” Ryu said with a nostalgic look in his eyes. “My sister once ripped out a chunk of my father’s hair during a game my mother created. Actually, I think I’ve got a scar from another game with my mother.”
“They sound like my kind of people.”
A smile slowly spread across Ryu’s face. It was like watching the sun come out from behind a mass of dark clouds. “Yeah, they were. I’d almost forgotten those memories.”
Dewdrop’s voice from the hallway interrupted their conversation.
“Taaaate, you might want to get out here.”
Tate shoveled several more bites of food into her mouth as she stood, before taking a biscuit and pulling it into two pieces. She stuffed the last of the eggs in its middle, slammed the pieces together and walked out while nibbling her makeshift sandwich.
She stepped into the hall and stopped short.
Night faced off against George, his teeth bared. George held the blade known as the Dragon’s Torment in her hand. The darkness it emitted was so extreme it hurt Tate’s eyes. If that wasn’t bad enough, Mia, in her four-legged form, balanced on the stair railing directly behind George, looking ready to pounce at any second.
“I warned you about waving your toothpick around.” The hallway shook from the power Tate sank into her words until the air sounded like thunder. “Put it away.”
George hesitated, her gaze shifting as if to calculate her odds.
“I would listen if I was you,” Ryu growled from behind Tate.
George blanched, noticing him for the first time. “Lord Ryuji, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Do you think that excuses you from your behavior?”
“I—”
“I will be informing the emperor. Expect to face consequences from this.”
George bowed her head, looking chastised as the blade burst, the black light sinking back into her skin.
Ryu circled around Tate as she stood stock still, fighting the urge to shred George into tiny pieces and bury them in the pots on her rooftop balcony as a warning to other interlopers.
She knew without looking that her eyes had changed to the dragon’s. Scales now covered her hands, neck and jaw line. She must have looked like a monster. But despite that, Ryu’s gaze was loving as it met hers. He looked at her as if he didn’t see the monster, only the woman.
“What are you doing here, dragon slayer?” Ryu asked without moving his eyes from Tate’s.
“I’m here to escort you to see the prisoner.”
“That will no longer be necessary.”
“The Lord Provost instructed me to act as escort,” George argued.
Mistake. Ryu didn’t like being corrected. He liked it even less when it came from someone who had screwed up as badly as George had.
The thought was enough to force Tate back from the ledge she’d been on. She didn’t know if it was the threat to one of her own in her own territory or the disquiet the blade caused, but for a moment there, she’d wanted to destroy George. Not Ilith. Not some combo of the two. Tate had been the sole perpetrator of those thoughts.
She sucked in a shaky breath before releasing it, feeling her adrenaline fade.
Seeing her in control again, Ryu sent her a nod before facing George. “He’ll understand. I’m sure the Lord Provost didn’t tell you to attack Lady Fisher’s people in her own house.”
“He’s the one who attacked first,” George defended.
Night slunk to her side. I caught her sneaking around. Mia checked and her scent stops in front of your room.
The eyes of everyone present jumped to George in accusation.
She blushed. “No one answered.”
Dewdrop and Tate cursed as the two Veles hissed in anger.
Ryu’s eyes turned nearly incandescent from fury. “I’m sure your training taught you how territorial a dragon is and how invading their territory was never recommended because of the danger involved. This is a severe breach of etiquette and utterly inappropriate.”
There was a perfunctory knock from the door before it opened. Ben appeared in the doorway; his expression carefully neutral as he took in the scene.
There was no way he didn’t know what was going. With the volume they were using, she wouldn’t be surprised if her neighbor two doors down heard.
“Sir Benjamin, please take Lady Georgiana Rosewood into custody, pending disciplinary action by the Lord Provost and the emperor,” Ryu ordered. “We’ll find our own way to the prison.”
Ben snapped a salute before taking George’s arm. She watched Ryu with disbelief as Ben started to haul her out of the house, only now realizing the situation she was in.
Ryu was so much more dangerous than Tate in many ways. She preferred to immediately address any grievances. The worst she’d do was kill you. Ryu, on the other hand, was the type to raze your house to the ground while you watched then burn the ashes. If you were lucky after that, he’d end your miserable existence. If not, he’d torture you for a while longer.
Ben dragged George out of the house as the rest of them watched.
When she was gone, Dewdrop clapped his hands with a bright smile. “Alright, who’s up to visiting a prison?”
Not me. I have other business to attend to, Night informed them. He and Mia disappeared upstairs without a word.
Tate sighed when Dewdrop looked over at her. “I’ll go get dressed.”
* * *
Two hours later Dewdrop, Tate, and Ryu disembarked from the carriage bearing the Lord Provost’s crest, which Ben had left them for the trip. Dewdrop took in the two-story building located on the outskirts of the Lower.
“Not exactly the nicest place, is it?” Dewdrop grimaced.
No, it was not. From the outside, it didn’t look much different than other government buildings. Maybe a little more imposing since there were bars on the windows and a large fenc
e on which several guard towers were posted. It was smaller than Tate expected of a prison that housed the criminal population for the entire city of Aurelia.
There was an air of desolation and despair, like the very walls had absorbed the negative energy of those passing through its doors for centuries. Its aura infected its surroundings, turning them bleak and solemn.
Even Tate felt affected, instinct telling her she didn’t want to enter. It was the sort of place that sucked out more of your soul with every second you lingered.
Unfortunately, Tate didn’t have the luxury of retreat. Sometimes you had to do the things you disliked. This was one of those times.
“Lady Fisher, Lord Ryuji, the Lord Provost has requested we escort you to your destination.” A woman wearing a guard uniform stepped forward from the small group that approached from the prison’s entrance.
“We’ll be in your care,” Ryu said politely.
“This way then.” The woman did an about face, marching toward the prison’s only entrance.
Their journey was smooth and unobstructed, the guards watching their passage with blank expressions. Most of them were large, burly men, the type Tate could easily see being used to subdue unruly prisoners.
They turned down several hallways before reaching a door at the end of one of those passages. Several men stood on either side of the door. Two facing it while the rest faced outward. Almost like they were guarding against both people trying to leave and people trying to enter.
Tate nodded once in approval. The Lord Provost’s people were well trained. Most would only think of guarding one direction. When she was with Jost’s crew, more than once she’d helped break a crewmember out of the local jail. Those who only guarded against a prisoner’s escape made the job all too easy.
The woman took out a ring weighed down with numerous keys. Rather than picking one among many, she simply touched the keyring against the door. It slid back, revealing a dark maw.
“I understand now why they call this place the Deeps,” Tate frowned at the stairs disappearing into that black hole. She really didn’t want to go down there.
The woman stepped through first, pausing a few steps down when none of them immediately followed.