by T. A. White
Tate hesitated to follow, searching the crowd for Christopher—Brown Eyes as she tended to call him. She had no doubt he was involved in all this somehow. It had his sticky fingers all over it.
He was gone. Lost in the chaos immediately following the explosion. He’d been right there—close enough to touch and she’d still failed to capture him.
Silva poured into the street from the surrounding buildings. They wore strange masks. Some were simple, white with small slits for the eye and designs in blue or silver along one side. Others were complicated, artistic versions of animals. Beautiful, yet fearsome.
Those wearing the masks split, moving through the street with almost military precision as if searching for something or someone.
Ryu grabbed her arm. "Let's go."
She resisted. The urge to hunt was hard to ignore with Christopher so close.
"Brown Eyes is here," she shouted.
Ryu hesitated. He wanted the other man just as much as she did. He’d been a thorn in both their sides for a long time. The Lord Provost had recently issued a wanted poster for him. He, along with several other high-ranking officials in the government, suspected Christopher was working with a highly trained organization who had one goal—destroy the current regime at any cost. Once caught, he’d be given a life sentence at the mining camps to the north, or if he was lucky, a death sentence.
Frustration and the same yearning for the hunt chased across Ryu's face. In the end, he shook his head. "There's no time. Who do you think they're searching for?"
Tate slid an uneasy glance at the masked Silva. Ryu had a point. People who covered their faces were usually up to no good.
She could stand and fight, but it would mean collateral damage in a city she wasn’t familiar with. The resulting fallout might endanger her original mission and would certainly not endear her to the Harridan.
Even as she hesitated, a person wearing a mask with cat ears and painted whiskers spotted them and pointed.
Tate bit back a string of curses she'd learned from Danny and Riply. Damn it. There was no denying their intended target now. Not with the way they raced toward them.
"I think you're right," Tate said grimly.
There would be no catching Christopher today. The only comfort she had, was he was probably already in the wind.
She didn't protest again as Ryu hauled her after him, Gabriella and Sunshine falling in behind them to protect their rear.
Tate chanced one last glance back. At least she wasn't the only one whose prey had escaped today. It was a small spot of consolation in an otherwise abysmal end to the day.
CHAPTER SIX
Exhaustion and frustration were Tate's irritating companions as her group wound their way to Clan Fireday’s city house. Gabriella and Sunshine were careful to use only the back streets of the city as they took them on a long, circuitous route to their destination. By the time they reached their lodgings, everyone’s nerves had been strung tight.
Ward and James hadn’t relaxed since the explosion and their subsequent flight. Each still held their bag, but Tate suspected that was only because it contained numerous weapons. Their faces were tense, and their postures alert.
Gabriella and her people walked alongside Tate’s group with a weary caution. Their expressions were intimidating and hard, warning the unwary against approaching.
"Is something like this normal?" Tate asked Ryu in a quiet voice.
He shook his head. "No, the Harridan rules with an iron fist. The Silva are naturally inclined to feud and war but their violence is always targeted. This was designed to create chaos and unrest."
"We need to go back." This had everything to do with their presence in the city. She wanted to know why.
Ryu looked torn. He felt the same need to investigate she did, but the safety of their mission came first.
"I'm afraid returning to the scene won't be possible," Gabriella said with an apologetic grimace.
"Explain," Ryu ordered. Icy authority radiated from him. Gone, was the small bit of warmth he'd shone Tate. In its place was expectation and demand.
Gabriella bent her head, showing her neck in a sign of respect and subservience Tate now recognized from the lessons Roslyn had given her on the ship.
"The city guard will lock down the area and other parts of the city to search for the culprits. All outsiders will be expected to obey a city-wide curfew," she said softly.
"That doesn't make sense," Dewdrop said. He'd slowed when Tate and Ryu had. "They're representatives of the Emperor. How can anything be off limits to them?"
Tate became conscious of the others listening in on the conversation. Gabriella seemed to realize the same, her mouth tightening.
"You are here at the invitation of the Harridan," she said stiffly. "Your interference in this matter would overstep your authority."
"Our people prefer to solve our own problems. I'm sure you understand," Sunshine said in an attempt to smooth over Gabriella's abrupt words.
The insinuation their invitation could be rescinded, leaving Tate and the rest at the Silva's mercy, went unsaid.
She and Ryu exchanged a glance, neither happy at the line Gabriella had just clearly drawn.
Night waited, catching Tate's eye and tilting his head in question. She hesitated, torn between respecting the Silva's wishes and the need to delve deeper. Random though it might appear, this felt important. She had the sinking feeling this had been a botched attack on them and knowing more could only help them in the long run.
Vale's expression was thoughtful as his gaze moved between the Silva and Tate. She thought he might say something and was surprised when he simply stuffed his hands in his sleeves and kept walking.
The guardian was smarter than she'd thought, content to watch and wait as events unfolded around him. It was a marked contrast to Ward, who didn’t even try to conceal his disdain.
Tate decided to let the matter rest for now, as they approached a three-story house with banners hanging on either side of its door, announcing it as the residence of Clan Fireday.
Tall and narrow, the building presided over the street, its stone tinged blood-red by setting sun. Stone steps led up to a large double door. Balconies ran the length of the building, giving anyone with a room on the front of the house access.
Like many of the buildings in this quarter, the roof was dome-shaped with an ornate spire rising from the top. It was every bit as impressive as the other buildings they'd passed, the sand-colored stone radiating the heat of the fading sun as the temperature started to drop.
Music filtered from other houses and balconies as Gabriella mounted the steps to tap softly on the door.
Motion from small slots at eye level announced movement within, just as it creaked slowly open. Gabriella murmured several things Tate didn't quite catch before beckoning their group inside.
"Finally," Ward muttered, not bothering to hide his irritation.
He and James were the first through the door after the Silva.
"Please let there be food," Dewdrop muttered fervently.
Tate’s stomach rumbled angrily, reminding her it had been ages since she'd last eaten. Never a good thing. As dragon-ridden, she burned through food faster than even a teenage boy. No one wanted to deal with a hungry dragon, and she was fast approaching the point where she turned savage the longer she went without sustenance.
"Tate, you finally made it," Trent exclaimed as she entered the house.
Recognition was slow, given how fixated she'd become at the thought of food.
"What are you doing here?" Tate asked after a long moment.
He cocked his head, venturing closer as the foyer turned into a hub of activity. "We've been here for hours."
"Who is we?"
"Me, Riply, Danny, and a few other members of the crew. Jost will be here later, but he sent us ahead with supplies."
Before she could respond, the foyer quieted, everyone falling silent at the appearance of a woman in the arched doorwa
y that led into the rest of the house.
Tala Fireday, doyenne and leader of her clan, surveyed them with an inscrutable expression. Her hair was bound back from her face, showcasing the delicate, fierce lines of her bone structure.
Like many of her race, her eyes were amber, her body muscular but lithe as she moved with grace and poise into the room.
Her gaze sought and found Gabriella, a slight frown pulling at her lips as the other woman hurried over, bending and whispering something into her ear.
Tala nodded slightly before looking up, pinning Tate with her stare. Tate stiffened, remembering the last time they'd gotten into a staring contest. She was too hungry and tired to risk another one. Given the state of her stomach, Ilith and Tate might go for Tala's throat by accident. There'd be no coming back from that. Even with how predatory the Silva were, Tate doubted they'd forgive her killing the doyenne because she was too hungry to think.
"Lady Fisher, this isn't the welcome we'd planned. I hope you can forgive us," Tala said.
Of Tala and Gabriella, Tate didn't know the doyenne that well. The other woman seemed to feel some type of obligation towards her, but Tate still didn't know why.
"Feed me and I'll forgive all," Tate said, too tired to play the political game.
For the first time since entertaining the room, a glimpse of emotion peeked out as humor glinted in Tala's eyes.
"Of course. No guest of ours will go hungry. Would you like to be shown to your room first or have dinner?"
Tate opened her mouth, about to pick dinner, when Roslyn cleared her throat and shook her head.
Tate almost whined. Resigned, she told Tala, "We'll freshen up and then be ready for food."
Tala didn't miss the exchange, smothering a snort of laughter at the obvious unhappiness in Tate's face.
"I've already had the rooms prepared. My people will show you to them," Tala murmured.
Several Silva stepped forward, their expressions polite as they nodded a greeting at the newcomers.
A woman with a bright smile beckoned Tate.
Trent stopped her, keeping his back to the rest of the room while digging in the pocket of his loose, lightweight jacket.
He glanced around furtively, making sure no one was watching, before placing a small wrapped bundle into her hand. "I know that look. This should tide you over, so you don't do something we’ll all regret."
He walked away before Tate could respond with a sharp remark.
As their escort led them deeper into the house, Tate investigated what Trent had left her. She was careful to keep her movements slow and not draw attention as she unwrapped the package.
She nearly groaned at what was inside. Bless his sweet little heart.
Three mini balls of a doughy substance rested in her hand, a red-brown paste oozing from the one she'd accidentally mutilated.
"What's that?" Dewdrop asked, peering over her shoulder. He made a hungry sound and tried to reach around her as she hunched over her treasures.
She slapped his questing hand away. "Nothing that concerns you."
On her other side, Night stood on his hind legs, tilting his whiskers at Tate's prize as he looked questioningly at it.
He licked his lips.
"No."
He bent closer.
A growl ripped from her throat. "I will eat you."
He huffed and dropped back down to all fours, pretending he hadn't been trying to steal food from her seconds before.
She became aware of silence in the hall and looked up to find all eyes on her.
Even Ryu looked slightly startled at her statement.
She lifted one of the balls to her mouth and stuffed it inside, defiantly staring everyone else down. She refused to feel bad about what she’d said. The bearcat knew the stakes. He risked them at his own peril.
After a long moment, their guide turned forward again.
Tate glared at her two traitorous friends whose shoulders shook as she passed them. She'd be sure to find a way later to pay them in kind when they least expected it.
The house was laid out in a large square, the middle of it an interior courtyard, open to the cloudless sky above and framed by a loggia, arches offering visitors a glimpse of the peaceful view. Balconies above mirrored the layout.
This was the heart of the home. All life revolved around it like spokes on a wheel.
Greenery dotted the courtyard, carefully chosen for its ability to tolerate the heat and humidity.
Tate followed her guide to the second floor and entered a room with a view of the courtyard through the open doorway. Gossamer-thin drapes danced in the light breeze and Tate caught the scent of jasmine and other flowers.
In the middle of the room, a wide bed was suspended from the ceiling, strong cables holding it in place. Gauzy fabric was tied at the four corners. Later, when night descended and bugs became a nuisance, she could untie the drapes and pull them closed around the bed.
Marble floor tile ran the length of the room. It would be cool against a guest’s feet even on a hot summer’s day.
"Does the room meet with your approval?" the woman asked from behind Tate.
"Very nice," Tate said. How could it not be? It was a dream bedroom. Perfect for honored guests.
"The Doyenne and her Ayer thought you would enjoy this particular room. Dragons always seem to prefer high places."
"Have many dragon-ridden visited here?" Tate asked.
The woman's expression grew strained. "Not in recent years."
Before Tate could pursue that line of questioning, the woman pointed out several features of the room. She ended by saying, "The evening meal will be in an hour. Just make your way back down the stairs and to the interior courtyard. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
She disappeared as quickly and quietly as she'd appeared, leaving Tate alone to decide what was appropriate wear for an evening dinner with her hosts.
*
Tate pulled at the simple dress she'd donned as she stepped into the hallway from her room. Made of a lightweight fabric and designed to mimic Silva styles, it floated around her. Unlike Aurelian styles, it wasn't restrictive, allowing for a freedom of movement she appreciated after the danger of the afternoon.
She'd elected to pull her hair back into a simple braid and had forgone wearing any of the jewelry she’d found stuffed into her bag. She had a sneaking suspicion a certain blue-eyed dragon was responsible, and wanted to know his reasoning behind giving her the jewels and the potential consequences of accepting them, before wearing any of it.
The door across from her opened and Ryu stepped out, stopping short at the sight of her.
He blinked rapidly, his body immobile. Tate touched her dress self-consciously, questioning her decision to wear it.
"I didn't know what the rules were for tonight," she said. "If it's too much, I can change."
"No." The word tore from him and he blinked again, his expression momentarily disconcerted before it softened. "You look perfect."
Tate's smile was tentative when it came. "You look nice too."
He did. His hair still contained a slight trace of dampness from his shower and he'd styled it so it had a slight wave. Like her, he was dressed in a style similar to the Silva, in a loose, sleeveless jacket and pants. The dark gray of his clothing offset his eyes, making the blue seem as deep and vibrant as the ocean.
His answering smile was slow and decadent, temptation and sin wrapped in an unforgettable package.
"Shall we?" He nodded at the stairs.
Tate sighed. She really didn't want to.
He barked a laugh at her clear reluctance before smoothing his expression into expectant lines.
She rolled her eyes. "I suppose we should get this over with."
At least only Tala and a select few from her household would be present. It could almost be considered a dinner with friends, if she didn't factor in their unwelcome tagalongs, or if she wasn't sure her every move and word would be repor
ted to the Harridan.
He offered her his arm in a gesture she'd seen nobles employ. Tentatively, she rested her fingers in the crook of it as they descended the stairs.
"What can I expect from tonight?"
"Such suspicion," he teased gently. "Put your mind at ease. Tonight shouldn't be too tedious. The Silva are a decadent race. The food will likely be some of the best you’ve ever had. "
"If only we could say the same for the company," Tate muttered, thinking about the three pains in her ass.
The night would be a lot less stressful if she didn't have to worry about dealing with them.
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound warm and inviting. "Yes, excluding them would make our lives easier."
Unfortunately, they weren't there for simple or painless. Both options rarely meant doing things the right way. Sometimes the most worthwhile endeavors were the most difficult, forcing you to fight tooth and nail for every inch of progress.
"What do you think of the events this afternoon?" Tate asked, changing the topic.
Ryu sobered. "It's concerning."
"You think the people in the masks were after us?"
He hesitated. "There's no way to tell."
If the explosion had happened a mere second later, Tate and the rest would have been caught in the blast radius. If they hadn't died, they would have been injured and discombobulated, easy targets for an attacker.
They shared a grim look, their thoughts echoing each other’s.
It was always possible the explosion had been unrelated—but improbable.
Tate sighed. "Creators curse it."
Things were going to get complicated. Again.
"We'll figure it out. Just try not to run off on your own this time," he warned.
"I don't do that."
He shot her a skeptical look.
"What? I don't. Things like that just always seem to happen through no fault of my own."
His snort held a thread of humor.
She couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face as they approached the arcade along the perimeter of the courtyard. Countless arches looked out onto a small oasis of gravel paths threading through well-tended gardens suitable for the hotter climate.