Twiceborn Endgame (The Proving Book 3)

by Finlayson, Marina

  “So? That was before—”

  He broke off, but I knew what he meant. That was before this … feeling … had sprung up between us.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but he growled in frustration and took my face in his hands.

  “You’d better come back.” Then his lips brushed mine in a kiss so tender it stole my breath away.

  “Or what?”

  “Or nothing. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Why? You don’t like competition?” I pushed him away, trying to keep my tone light, though I ached to stay in the circle of those muscular arms.

  He smiled, a softer look than I was used to seeing on his hard face. “That smart mouth’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

  “So I’m told.” I waited while he drove away, then turned to find Luce watching me with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you start.”

  “I’m not saying anything.” But a half smile played around her lips.

  We entered the building, which belonged to an aircraft management service that catered to the wealthy and their private jets. Strange to think that I was now in that category.

  The smart young man behind the counter looked up as we entered. If he thought we didn’t look quite like his normal class of customers, he was too well-trained to say so.

  “Can I help you?”

  “We don’t need your help.” I snared him in a light compulsion. “We’ll just go straight through. You can forget we were ever here.”

  “Okay, then.” He was still nodding as we stepped out onto the tarmac.

  Daiyu’s plane was a 737, and a set of air stairs waited in front of the open door. The stewardess appeared in the doorway as we approached and offered a deep bow.

  We horrified her by carrying our own luggage aboard. She hurried down the stairs and tried to take it but Luce barked at her in Japanese, which produced a flurry of apologetic bowing. I was tense until we were aboard, half-expecting an ambush, but nothing happened. The interior of the plane was every bit as luxurious as I would have expected from the queen of Japan. We entered a lounge area that would have been at home in a high-class hotel, full of padded reclining seats for the comfort of Daiyu’s guests. The seats were grey and the carpet a deep blood red. A corridor led away from the main area to other rooms, most likely bedrooms and bathrooms.

  I chose a seat and Luce dropped into the one next to me. Kasumi had come through for us. The flight crew obviously expected us, and no questions had been asked. As far as they were concerned, they were following their mistress’s orders to convey these guests to Tokyo. The stewardess offered refreshments but I sent her away. I felt uncomfortable with her hovering around.

  We’d managed the first hurdle, but time was not on our side here. Would Kasumi’s deception be discovered? Probably only if Daiyu decided she needed her plane after all, but I was reasonably confident she wouldn’t. There was plenty to occupy her in Sydney.

  Still, if she did discover her plane was missing, it wouldn’t be too difficult to figure out who was responsible. There wouldn’t be too many in her party with the authority to instruct the flight crew. Kasumi would be well and truly screwed in that case, so the faster I got this done the better.

  A quick offensive was our best chance. The longer we stayed, the more chance of being caught out in our deception, and there were a million little things that could go wrong.

  Blue’s potion had a limited life. Once I drank it the clock started ticking. Ten hours, he said. Ten hours to get in and out without coming into contact with any other dragons—because goblin potions couldn’t disguise the aura of the underlying shifter. If a single dragon saw Kasumi with a red dragon aura glowing around her, the game would be up. We’d be reduced to fighting our way out of hostile territory, the two of us against Daiyu’s whole establishment. Not good odds.

  Best not to think about it. We couldn’t make a plan until we got there and saw what we were up against anyway. That was why I’d had to come myself. Dragon compulsions were likely to feature heavily in any plan, even with Blue’s potion. We were going in blind, and no matter how many times I reminded myself that “no plan survives contact with the enemy” I couldn’t help feeling twitchy. Luce must be feeling even worse. I’d never met a more dedicated control freak.

  I glanced across at her and she gave me a fierce grin. “Better strap in. I think we’re getting ready to move.”

  The engine noise had changed to a louder rumble, and I could feel the vibrations of it through the carpeted floor. I felt a jolt and looked out the window. The view swung around as the plane began the slow trek to its designated runway.

  The captain’s voice came over the address system, a babble of Japanese. The stewardess must have told him we spoke the language after her encounter with Luce.

  “What did he say?”

  “Just the usual,” Luce said. “Welcome aboard, flight time to Narita is eight hours, blah blah blah.”

  “I wish I spoke as many languages as you. This is really going to be a problem for us. What am I going to do? Pretend I’ve got laryngitis and let you do all the talking?”

  “Just compel anyone who becomes a problem.”

  “That’ll work for small groups, but compelling more than a handful of people at once is pretty tough to manage for any length of time. And if any of them are high-level shifters we’re really up shit creek.”

  “Well …” She tipped her head to one side and regarded me thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s something else we could try. When I was still living in the Chinese Court, the Russian queen’s consort visited us. He spoke no Chinese and my queen spoke no Russian, but she was too proud to admit she couldn’t understand him.”

  “Couldn’t she just use an interpreter?”

  “Well, you’d think so, but she knew the language of every other domain and felt she would lose face by admitting her ignorance of this one.”

  “So what did she do?”

  The engine’s rumble rose to a higher-pitched shriek and we were pressed back into our seats as the plane accelerated down the runway.

  “She found a thrall who could speak Russian and somehow used his knowledge to speak it herself.”

  “How?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I only know what I saw. She carried on a conversation for half an hour with the Russian, and he never noticed anything odd. The thrall was in the room the whole time serving as a waiter.”

  “Wow.”

  The vibrations suddenly ceased as the plane surged off the ground. I looked out the window and watched Sydney dwindle away beneath us, the blue waters of Botany Bay sparkling in the sun.

  How had the Chinese queen managed that trick? I’d never heard of such a thing before, though words and mind control went hand in hand with dragons. They were as much our weapons as fire—probably more these days, when so much of our lives was lived in human form rather than trueshape.

  “Can you see into my mind?” Luce asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried just looking.” Always before I’d been either enthralling someone or placing a temporary compulsion. I didn’t go snooping around in people’s minds just for kicks—particularly not the minds of my friends. “Maybe it only worked because he was enthralled to her.”

  “Maybe. Why don’t you try it and see?”

  “If you’re sure …” The idea of poking around in Luce’s mind was oddly repellent. What if I damaged her? Or saw something I didn’t want to know?

  “Go ahead.”

  I stared at her, and she stared back, trusting me not to harm her. Wyverns were an unusually loyal species among shifters. Backstabbing and betrayal were completely foreign to them, though they’d been on the receiving end often enough to learn a certain wariness in giving their trust. But once it was given, it was yours forever.

  Okay. Deep breath. If I could kill people I could do this. I extended my will slowly, carefully, probing her mind with a feather-light touch. I found the joy of the open sky and a fierc
e protectiveness which was the core of Luce’s personality. Tentatively I peeked around, being careful not to push too hard.

  “Think at me,” I said. “Try to communicate.”

  “I am. Can’t you hear me?”

  I shook my head and tried harder. Though I found plenty of things that felt like Luce, they were all images and feelings. There was no soundtrack to go with them.

  At length I gave up. “I can’t do it. There must be something more to it. Maybe you have to be a thrall for it to work.”

  “Maybe. Have you got a headache?”

  I took my hand away from my forehead guiltily. “Just a little.”

  “Let’s get some food into you and try again.”

  She went in search of the stewardess, who soon reappeared with a tray of exquisitely presented sushi. When we’d finished eating, Luce turned straight back to the subject with single-minded determination.

  “I know you can’t enthral me,” she said, “and naturally I wouldn’t want you to—but couldn’t you try a compulsion?”

  “Do you think it’ll make a difference?”

  “How should I know? But it’s worth trying.”

  “Well, I guess we’ve got nothing else to do for the next”—I checked my watch—“six and a half hours.” And Luce would nag me for every minute of them if I didn’t try.

  I pushed into her mind with my usual determination, and grasped a firm hold of her will. It certainly felt more comfortable, at least from my end, than my previous tentative attempt.

  “Speak to me in your mind,” I said.

  She nodded dreamily. I waited, but heard nothing. “Are you speaking?”

  “Yes.”

  Not a peep. Bummer. It would have been so useful.

  Frustrated, I pushed deeper, past the surface layers of her mind. Her consciousness was a vast cavern boasting many doors, all closed. I began opening doors at random.

  “You have to let me in,” I said. “Speak to me again.”

  *Yes, mistress.*

  Caught up in my explorations, it took a minute to realise I hadn’t heard that with my ears.

  “Again! Tell me something about yourself.”

  *What would you like to know?*

  It was faint. If I hadn’t been listening so hard, I might not have caught it.

  *Can you hear me?* I sent to her, and she nodded. A thrill of excitement shot through me. We could do this! *Say something in Japanese.*

  *Ohayo gozaimasu. Good morning.*

  “Ohayo gozaimasu,” I repeated aloud.

  “Your accent needs work,” she said. “We’ll have to limit your conversations. Try again.”

  Obediently I set to work. We had a lot to do before we landed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Our pilot arranged for a limo to meet us on arrival at Narita—not one of Daiyu’s, just a hire car, since we didn’t want to announce our arrival. It would be just our luck if one of Daiyu’s household rang her to find out why she had sent these guests to Japan. The game would be up before we’d even begun.

  “Are you going to take the potion now?” Luce asked once we’d left the plane.

  “Think I’ll wait. We only get ten hours—I don’t want to waste any of them.”

  I had the official who came to greet us under a compulsion before he’d even straightened from his bow, and he wasted no time in seeing us through to our limo. A bitter wind blew, cutting right through my jacket, and I was glad I had warmer clothes in my pack. The driver got out to load our backpacks into the boot, but I waved him off and hurried into the car, glad to slam the door on the winter night. Sleet lashed the car as we sped off down the long freeway towards Tokyo.

  Our destination wasn’t the city itself, but a classier suburb further out from the smog and noise of the central district. Basically the Beverly Hills of Tokyo. Daiyu had a residence there—house wasn’t a grand enough word to cover it—built in the traditional style and surrounded by gardens that Luce said were the envy of Tokyo.

  When we were a couple of blocks away, she gave me the nod, and I pulled the small bottle from my pack, feeling the tremor of nerves in the pit of my stomach. I unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to my lips. It smelled even worse than I remembered. Would it still work if I threw it back up?

  I downed it in one quick gulp, before the stench unsettled my stomach any further. Heat flushed through my body, and in the rear-vision mirror I saw the driver’s mouth fall open in amazement. I thrust myself into his mind at once and compelled him to forget what he’d just seen. He looked out the windscreen, bored, and I turned to Luce, only to find the same stunned look on her face.

  “How do I look?”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Like … like Daiyu.”

  “What?”

  “Holy shit,” she breathed. “I thought that was Kasumi’s hair in the potion.”

  “So did I.” I shifted so I could see my own face in the rear-vision mirror. Kasumi had never actually said whose hairs they were; we’d all just assumed they were hers. I raised a hand to explore my new features. Daiyu’s cold dark eyes stared back at me.

  My mind raced. A lucky break at last. Now my aura would match my outward seeming, and as Daiyu I’d have unfettered access to everything. Flying under the radar would be harder, but that seemed a small price to pay. Our chances of making it out of here alive had just gone up by several factors, thanks to a certain devious fox lady.

  On our left, a high wall was separated from the street by a canal—a moat, I guess. The car turned at a bridge that crossed the moat and stopped, the way barred by a pair of massive gates. Though they were covered by ornamental carving, they weren’t just for show. Two uniformed men stood guard, one on either side. They must have been freezing, but their faces showed no sign of discomfort. Probably thralls. One approached the car, barking something stern in Japanese at the driver, who swivelled in his seat to look helplessly at Luce.

  I looked at her too, long enough to establish a light compulsion, then lowered the window.

  *Open the gate,* I said in my mind, and Luce obligingly gave me the Japanese translation. I glared at the guard and repeated the phrase.

  He jumped as if shocked with an electric cattle prod and bowed so low I thought he was going to lose his balance and faceplant into the slush on the pavement.

  *A thousand apologies, mistress,* Luce translated into my mind. *I did not know it was you.*

  He shouted to his companion and together they hurried to heave open the gates, then bowed deeply in unison as the car swept past them up a long drive to a low, rambling house that stretched off into the darkness.

  “Ready?” Luce asked as the car stopped in front of the doors.

  “Ready.”

  I handed her my backpack. Kasumi might have carried her own, but Daiyu certainly wouldn’t. We got out of the car, the twin thuds of the doors closing loud in the chill night air. As if summoned by the noise a servant appeared in the doorway, dressed in an ornate kimono. He squeaked at the sight of me and fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the wet ground in full obeisance.

  I glanced at Luce and she waved me forward, so I moved past the man as if he wasn’t there and stepped up onto the verandah. The servant scurried after me and knelt to remove my shoes. Luce took hers off too.

  “Shall I inform Hakawa of your arrival, mistress?” the servant asked, head bowed.

  Luce silently translated and added that Hakawa was the steward, an ancient griffin who had served the Japanese throne for decades.

  I’d learnt a few basic words and phrases on the flight. “Yes” was one of them.

  “Hai.”

  The man hurried away in search of Hakawa. We followed more slowly. The first room was large and almost completely empty. The floor was covered in the traditional tatami mats. Braziers in the four corners provided some heat, and a beautiful flower arrangement was displayed in a niche.

  *Daiyu’s apartments are this way, if I remember correctly,* Luce said into
my mind. Safer than using English aloud. She slid aside a door painted with sprays of cherry blossom to reveal a corridor and I followed her along it. We passed several more sliding doors, all closed. A light shone through the thin paper screen of one door, but the other rooms were dark.

  *How long since you’ve been here?*

  *Close on a hundred years. It was back before the wyverns were driven out of China, when I still served the Chinese queen. She came here to visit not long after Daiyu had taken the Japanese throne. It was cold then, too. I’d forgotten how much I hate northern hemisphere winters.* She slid back another door and grinned with satisfaction. *Here we are.*

  The room was dark and chilly. The braziers here weren’t lit, since no one used the room when Daiyu was away. Goosebumps prickled into life on my arms under my jacket. What did she have against central heating? Traditions were all very well, but dragons liked to be warm. I was surprised Daiyu was prepared to live like this.

  A man whose round face was twisted into an anguished expression hurried into the room, waving the servants who followed him toward the unlit lamps and braziers. He fell to his knees and touched his greying head to the matting. From his light blue aura I guessed that here was the griffin steward, Hakawa.

  “Lady! Forgive me for such a poor welcome home. I did not expect you.”

  “No matter,” I said, repeating the sounds from Luce’s mind.

  A servant hurried to place seating cushions for Luce and me. The room brightened as I knelt and sat back on my heels in the style of Japanese women. I added “chairs” to my wish list for Daiyu’s home. I wasn’t going to be able to sit like this for long.

  Hakawa remained kneeling but lifted his head from the floor. “I regret that Lord Akira is out. I will have him summoned.”

  “No.” Akira was Daiyu’s current consort, a young red dragon who’d managed to hang on to her favour for the last decade, which was practically unheard of. Queens weren’t usually the faithful type. The last thing I needed was trying to pull off my deception in front of someone who knew her so well. “I wish to be alone.”

  The necessary gaps in the conversation while Luce translated and then supplied my next words felt glaring and unnatural to me. If Hakawa thought so he gave no sign. Perhaps he was used to Daiyu giving him a long, slow death glare before she spoke.