Fate of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

  “She was a kid, you sick—”

  “But this,” the General continues, ignoring Tucker’s outburst. “You’re just letting your dick distract you. I can fix that.”

  Tucker squeezes his free hand into a fist, pressing his knuckles against the sink counter. He grits his teeth, desperately trying to bite back what I’m sure are the scathing words that might actually earn him a death sentence.

  “Besides,” the General adds lazily, “Zurie’s given me some tips on how to reprogram that stubborn brain of yours, and I think this time I can make it stick.”

  I take an involuntary step backward, my entire body tensing at the thought of either me or Tucker enduring any time at all in the caves below Zurie’s home—the hallucinations, the unending darkness, the agonizing pain.

  I won’t go back, and I won’t let them do that to Tucker, either.

  “You get one shot, kid,” his father chides, condescending and cocky. “Don’t fuck it up.”

  With that, the line goes dead.

  Tucker grunts in anger and throws his phone against the wall. The screen cracks as it tumbles to the ground, but he clearly doesn’t care. He leans both hands against the sink counter, staring down at the marble, his shoulders tense.

  Gently, I set a hand on his arm. He flinches at my touch, his head snapping abruptly toward me, and for a moment I see the agony on his face. The guilt. The anger. The swirling tide of disgust and concern.

  The moment he looks at me, though, his expression shifts into one of relief.

  He grabs me and pulls me close, cradling the back of my head as he burrows his face into my hair. We hold each other, standing there in silence as we process everything we just heard.

  “You’re more of a family than he ever was,” Tucker says softly, holding me tight. “I’ve made my choice. If it gets me killed, then fuck it. At least I lived a little first.”

  “I won’t let them touch you.” My arms tighten around him, and all I can do is smile in gratitude at his bravery. His loyalty. His charming, heartfelt honesty.

  He’s my Tucker, and we’re in this together—come hell or high water.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As the sun ticks by overhead, I lean on a balcony high in the castle and look out over the majestic ravine surrounding the dojo. Mist swirls and shimmers, dancing any time a dragon dives into the abyss.

  I could get used to this.

  I’ve been hunting for Jace all day, but I can’t find him. Anywhere. The guards all tell me he’ll find me later, that he’s in meetings, discussing strategies—I’m getting a little fed up.

  We’re quickly running out of time to save Irena.

  Maybe I should just break into his suite.

  Hmm.

  As I lean on the railing, enjoying the sun and debating my options, a familiar ice dragon with brilliantly blue scales circles the forest below. He banks toward me as the wind kicks up.

  I smile, letting out a grateful sigh of relief that Levi’s okay.

  In seconds, he soars past me, roaring in welcome. His cry cuts through the air, long and loud, and I lift my hand to brush my fingers along his scales. He growls happily as my fingertips tease along his body. Apparently satisfied that I’m okay, he dives again and flies off into the ravine to do who knows what.

  With my elbow on the balcony railing, I lean my cheek on my fist and watch the world around me. It’s nice to have a bit of peace after so much crazy. To relax, if only for a second.

  If Drew’s right, if we really have the blueprints we need, we’ll soon be leaving. Finally. I need to get Irena out of—

  Deep in my chest, the familiar tug toward Jace gets stronger. It swirls and sings, alarmingly loud, and I frown in confusion as I hold a hand to my chest. “What the—”

  On instinct, I pivot on my heel, eyes darting across the double doors behind me that lead into the castle. They sit open, just as I left them.

  To my surprise, Jace leans casually against the doorframe, his head resting against the elegant molding as he silently watches me.

  I flinch, cursing myself for not hearing him. “How did you—”

  “You’re not the only one with advanced stealth skill, Rory,” he says, lifting one eyebrow as he taunts me.

  Touché.

  I wonder if he’s going to tell me about the new blueprints Drew said are coming today, or if he’ll try to hide them from me. I wonder if he’ll try to lock me up and keep me here while he goes out and lives my life for me.

  With that rather ominous look on his face, I can’t help but wonder what fresh hell he’s about to unleash on me—because that’s all he’s been doing lately, one after another.

  Waiting for him to start the next fight, I cross my arms and lean my butt against the balcony railing as another gust of wind plays with my hair.

  Casually, he strolls toward me and leans his forearms against the railing, looking out at his embassy as if he came here for the view.

  We both know he didn’t.

  He’s tantalizingly close, barely a foot away, and the connection we share burns through me like electricity. The sensation buzzes through my veins and makes me dizzy with desire.

  All of which, of course, I actively ignore.

  “You wonder why I’m so protective,” he says casually, not looking at me. “Why I’m a little controlling.”

  I lift one eyebrow. “A little?”

  He chuckles and finally tilts his head toward me, those intense eyes snaring me as he leans closer.

  My treasonous body urges me to close the gap between us. My greatest impulse right now is to wrap my arms around his shoulders, to hold him close as his warm skin simmers against mine.

  It’s not even sexual, just impulsive longing to hold him. In that moment, I can’t tell if it’s me or the mate-bond. If it’s really what I want, to be near him, rather than a compulsion driven by some strange thunderbird magic.

  Jace’s eyes drift to my lips, and he gently brushes his knuckle against my jaw.

  It’s tender. Intimate. Gentle and doting.

  His mouth hovers a few inches from mine, but instead of kissing me, he scans my face. “I killed three Spectres in the last two years alone, Rory.”

  My body stiffens on impulse. A very old, very primal part of me warns me to run, to put as much space between us as possible, but that’s the Spectre training talking. The part of me that Zurie wants to beat into submission.

  Jace pauses, studying my expression. When I don’t answer, he leans in just a little more. “Do you know how many bounties there are on my head? How many people want to destroy me and everything I love?”

  My jaw tenses on impulse, but I know better than to answer him. It’s rhetorical, and he’s trying to make a point.

  “Eleven,” he answers. “Eleven bounties, from humans and dragons alike. Revenge plots, mostly.” He shrugs, like that isn’t a big deal. “I face assassins at least once per month. Here’s the thing, Rory—if they can’t get to me, they’ll start coming for you.”

  A bolt of icy dread shoots through me as I process what he’s implying. “Because if we finalize the mate-bond,” I say, piecing it together, “killing me would also destroy you.”

  “Even if we don’t finalize it,” he corrects, his grip tightening a bit on my chin. “It’s not as strong, sure, but it would affect me deeply. If you died now, my dragon would go insane, and I’m not sure I could rein him in.”

  For a moment, I’m blindsided. I didn’t realize I had that kind of influence over him already.

  “You’re obviously talented, Rory,” he says with a proud smile. “But could you win against a dragon like me? Like Harper? Like—ugh—Drew?” he adds with an irritated eye roll. “The point is that, yes, I know you’re a brilliant fighter. But there will always be someone out there who can take out a talented warrior like you, given the right conditions.” His tone is deadly serious.

  I frown, looking away.

  He releases his gentle hold on my chin, and my skin goes co
ld as his warm touch fades.

  Jace sighs, leaning his lower back against the balcony railing, staring up at the shingles high above us. “It’s not even just the bounties on my head we have to worry about. The dragons who are after you have more resources, soldiers, and experience than you do. I can’t simply stand back and watch you go off and risk your life without knowing for sure—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that you can take them all.”

  “It’s not like I’m an idiot who trots off into the line of fire,” I say, a bit wounded. “I know how to lie low.”

  “You do,” he admits, nodding. “But sometimes that isn’t enough. Part of the reason I’m not dead yet is because I have a team of intel officers scouring enemy communications day and night.” He rubs his eyes, sighing with exhaustion. “You could have that, too, Rory, if you stay here.”

  “Maybe,” I admit. “But I would need proof you see me as an equal, first.”

  He nods. “Fair enough—and I would need proof that you can fully wield your magic in any given situation.” His eyes shift to mine, serious and intense. “I don’t want to lock you up, Rory. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re a prisoner because my dragon—because our dragons chose each other.”

  Despite the grave conversation, I smile a little at the thought of my own dragon slowly coming to life within me.

  “And, so that you’re aware,” he adds in a grave tone. “The mate-bond goes both ways. If I die…”

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

  “Are you saying I could go feral?” I ask, incredulous.

  Jace sighs and slowly nods. “It’s possible, if you’re ever able to shift. Or, if you never shift, the loss might still drive you insane. No one knows, since we aren’t even sure what kind of dragon you might be.”

  I just stand there, for a second, processing the concept. My entire mood shifts with that one realization, and suddenly I understand Jace’s position a bit better.

  To know that, in many ways, my survival depends on him. On someone I can’t control, whose actions could put him in the line of fire and cost him his life.

  It’s… well, it’s humbling. And it gives me a bit of perspective I didn’t have before.

  “I want you to be happy,” Jace says, crossing his arms as he watches me. “Everything in me just wants to give you the world, but I have to do what will protect us both.”

  The comment snaps me out of my daze, and my old, familiar resentment bubbles up again. “Like nearly shooting Tucker in the face?”

  Jace shrugs and looks off into the distance, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something that will start a fight.

  “What can I say, Rory?” he eventually asks. “He’s a Knight in my home, and you want me to just, what? Forgive him?”

  “I want you to apologize,” I snap.

  He hesitates, a bewildered expression on his face. “To Tucker?”

  “To us both.”

  When Jace doesn’t answer, all of the frustration and anger that’s been brewing within me boils to the surface. I keep it at bay, trying not to let it take over.

  “Yeah, apologize,” I snap. “You can apologize for nearly killing Tucker. You can apologize for hiding things from me, for trying so hard to control virtually every moment of my life since I got here.” I pace the small balcony, the energy within me buzzing as I dip into my resentment. “You have a lot to apologize for, Jace.”

  He sighs deeply and sets his hands in his pockets. I expect him to get defensive, to start yelling or point out all the ways he thinks I’m wrong. To single out all the things I’ve hidden from him. I expect him to ignore my concerns, like he has been lately, to dismiss me entirely yet again.

  But he doesn’t.

  “You feel betrayed, Rory,” he says calmly. Quietly. “But so do I.”

  Our eyes connect, and the intense wound is easy to read on his face.

  He gestures vaguely toward the tower where Tucker and I are staying. “You let a Knight into my home, refused to tell me, and hid a glaring security flaw from me in a place that’s supposed to be a fortress. A place that’s supposed to keep you safe.”

  I cross my arms, a bit frustrated. “Can’t you see why I lied? Why I hid those things from you? Why I felt trapped?”

  “Yes,” he says simply, turning away from me.

  Whoa.

  Wait.

  Did he just… agree with me?

  “In the field, in the heat of the moment, I overreacted.” He stiffens, hands in his pockets as he faces away from me. “You deserve a better man than I was back there, and for that, I’m sorry.”

  I squint at him in confusion, momentarily taken aback. I never actually expected him to apologize. It just doesn’t seem like something Jace even does.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly, genuinely grateful for the dash of empathy he just showed.

  He nods, looking at me expectantly over his shoulder.

  Ah.

  My turn.

  “I, uh—” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry I hid those things from you,” I admit, surprised to find it absolutely true. “I don’t like doing that,” I add softly.

  And yet, I continue doing it.

  Out of obligation—this time, ironically enough, to protect Jace.

  If I told him about Drew’s access to the secret hallways, I would also have to tell him about the Darrington invasion. And that would lead to war. To bloodshed. To his embassy lying in ruins.

  There’s so much I’m still hiding from him, and it eats away at me.

  But I have to. At least for now.

  “Thanks,” he says, shoulders stiff and uncomfortable.

  I guess apologies truly aren’t his thing.

  The thing is—I’ve also hidden the flip phone from him, as well as my conversations with Ian Rixer.

  And, after this conversation, I think perhaps it’s time to take a well-calculated risk. To heal things. To try to make this right.

  “I have the flip phone,” I admit, since we’re clearing the air. “I’ve spoken to Ian a few times.”

  Jace groans in annoyance, but he doesn’t get angry. “Yeah, I figured. That’s incredibly dangerous, though, Rory.”

  I hesitate. “If you knew, why—”

  “You want to help your sister, and I know you wouldn’t give anything sensitive away.” He looks at me over his shoulder again. “You’re smart, Rory. Was I pissed when I found it missing? Yeah, of course. But as I was on my way to confront you, I realized that maybe this could work in our favor. I figured if anyone can get intel from him, it’s you.”

  “Wow,” I say quietly. “That’s actually really impressive, Jace. All things considered,” I add with a shrug.

  “So?” he asks, facing me. “Did my trust in you pay off?”

  I nod. “I believe his name is Ian Rixer.”

  “Ian Rixer?” Jace asks, incredulous. “That psychopath is still alive?”

  “Oh, well your reaction is a good sign,” I say dryly, wondering who the hell this Ian guy really is.

  “Gods, this just keeps getting worse,” Jace mutters, rubbing his face.

  “Who is he?”

  The dojo master hesitates, watching me as he debates whether or not to tell me. “Ian Rixer is Kinsley’s half-brother.”

  Oh, this is just freaking great.

  I’m up against the Vaer Boss’s half-brother.

  Absolutely delightful.

  I rub my face and lean against the balcony railing. “So, he has access to money, resources—”

  “Everything,” Jace confirms. “Kinsley isn’t really fond of him, but he’s useful to her. He’s clever. Wickedly smart. He does have one weakness, though. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.” Jace rubs the stubble on his jaw, lost in thought. “I’ve never seen Ian Rixer shift, and rumor is it’s because he secretly disdains his dragon. Thinks it’s dirty,” Jace adds with a disgusted grimace. “But if that’s true, it’s a good sign.”

/>   “How is that a good sign?”

  Jace shrugs. “If we can get to him, perhaps we can overpower him physically.”

  “But he’ll have traps, surveillance, and all the soldiers in hell between us and him,” I point out. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who takes risks.”

  “True.”

  “Maybe it’s just a ruse,” I say hopefully. “Maybe this isn’t him. Maybe it’s a trick, and they’re trying to trip us up by claiming this is someone a lot of people fear.”

  “Perhaps,” Jace says, though he doesn’t sound altogether convinced.

  We stand in silence as the wind dances around us, watching as his soldiers patrol the grounds in all directions. I stare out at the silhouettes of dragons against the majestic mountains, dreaming of the day I can fly with them.

  “We’ll figure this Ian thing out,” I say.

  I just don’t know how.

  “We will,” Jace says with a nod. He pauses, tilting his head slightly toward me, and something shifts in his expression. “Look, Rory, I hope you can at least understand where I’m coming from in being so protective.”

  “I think I can,” I admit, a tad begrudgingly.

  “I don’t like…” He struggles to find the words and grunts in frustration. “I don’t like needing people. I’m no good at it. But, Rory, I need you to be safe. I need you to stay alive.”

  He abruptly turns around and pulls me in to him, his arms around my shoulders as we stand there in silence, each of us having said our piece.

  In that moment, I finally get it.

  I finally understand Jace.

  We don’t agree with each other, and we don’t really see eye to eye on—well, anything.

  But I can at least understand where he’s coming from.

  And, I guess, I can have a little heart.

  I can forgive the overbearing, domineering idiot. Because, deep down, there’s a good man in there.

  He just needs a little push.

  One way or another, Jace will see what I’m really capable of—and then, just maybe, he’ll give in.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven