Momentarily, her attention was caught by the office opposite Lord Dragon’s luxurious bed. There was a desk, of course, filing cabinets, even that rare item from the Before—a fully functional laptop.
But there were also models and architectural drawings. Intricate traceries of what Fee recognized from her own studies were hydroelectric turbines and pulley-driven dumbwaiters. It appeared that this dragon hadn’t merely moved into abandoned cities and stolen his predecessor’s wealth. He’d built a better life for his people through the sweat of his own brow.
“Or, more likely, through the sweat of underpaid laborers’ brows,” Fee reminded herself, her voice echoing oddly in the open space. Sinking down into the lush office chair in front of Lord Dragon’s desk, she tapped out a text at last. “I’m in,” she informed her father. “But in Sunsphere, not Aerie proper.”
Immediately, the cell phone rang, its alert harsh against the morning quiet. Fee’s fingers clenched nervously, a signet ring that had been sitting beside a ball of sealing wax finding its way into one fist. She rolled the marshmallow-scented metal between nervous fingers as she reluctantly accepted her father’s call.
“About damn time.” Malachi’s words were biting, but his tone contained that warm flicker of satisfied fire that promised a reprieve from his usual physical and verbal abuse. Instantly, the tension in Fee’s shoulders eased. Malachi was having a good day, which meant his daughter was having a good day as well.
Still, she kept her voice professionally calm as she reported in. No need to waken Malachi’s anger if she didn’t have to. “I’m on the lowest level of the Sunsphere’s living quarters,” she started. “And they don’t appear to have locked the door. I could take the stairs down to the bottom and make the walk to the Riverview in fifteen minutes flat if you want. But I’d have to ditch the cell phone and maybe the explosives first—the Green is very much awake down there.”
As Fee spoke, she swiveled the chair to take in hungry plants swaying and grasping outside the window. Most were unable to reach as high as the bulbous summit of the Sunsphere, but a few intrepid vines were pushing their way upward along the glass sides of the building. Fee shivered, glad the windows boasted no obvious hinges to open out onto the Green.
“Don’t do that yet,” Malachi said, his thoughts running along a similar track as her own. “We can’t risk our one chance on a maybe. Explore the Sunsphere and figure out how the wingless get back and forth between there and the Riverview. Dragons like their luxuries and there’s no way they spend their free time ferrying humans and supplies from one tower to the other.”
Abruptly and without a farewell, the cell phone went dead. “Be careful, daughter,” Fee muttered, speaking the words her father hadn’t bothered to voice. Still, she didn’t hesitate before tucking the cell phone back into its holster, leaving the dragon’s quarters behind, and trotting halfway up the first flight of stairs.
Only when her frantic pulse slowed to a resting pace did she realize that she’d fallen back into her old rhythm of instant, thoughtless obedience. She’d left the room so fast, in fact, that she still clenched a shifter’s signet ring in one white-knuckled fist.
The impulse to immediate action had saved her from Malachi’s blows more times than she could count. But the older mage wasn’t there to assess how she went about obeying his wishes this time around.
I don’t have to jump at his every word, Fee realized, the thought filling her with an unaccustomed sensation of power. Malachi will never know whether there are real obstacles in my path or whether I’m just dilly dallying as I do his bidding. I can...take my time.
The notion was so unusual that it sent excited flames sparking from twitching fingertips. Quickly, Fee squashed the fire and slipped the stolen ring into one pocket before patting her other side to make sure the cell phone was still in place.
On vibrate mode, the latter device shouldn’t be immediately obvious beneath her tattered clothing. Which was a good thing because—barring stupid use of fire in front of a dragon—the phone was the biggest chink in her current armor.
In the Before, mobile phones had been as ubiquitous as electric lights. But now the former were rare as hen’s teeth and required expensive air magic to boost their signal. Fee didn’t want to think about what Malachi had traded to get his hands on this particular communication device, and she knew its presence was a dead giveaway that she wasn’t the ordinary slogger her captors had initially supposed.
Good thing it’s winter and extra layers are expected.
Rearranging her sweater so it better sheltered the tricky bulge, Fee completed her climb and tentatively cracked open the door to the second level. It was time to figure out whether her disguise would pass muster.
Between fire magic flowing through her veins and explosives strapped around her waist, Fee was a weapon loaded and ready to take out the dragons who called this tower home. And yet—no one so much as glanced in her direction as she tentatively pressed open the door and stepped out into a sea of culinary mayhem.
Kitchens, she concluded, peering wide-eyed at the flurry of activity whirling through the open space.
The scents alone were so overwhelming she nearly swooned. Crisply frying bacon. Warm yeasty bread. Sweet icing that brought to mind the marshmallow aroma hanging over Lord Mason’s recently vacated bed.
Despite her plan to remain unobtrusive, a deep, abiding hunger forced one foot forward...and Fee nearly smacked into a young man as he hurried toward the stairwell with two tremendous platters balanced on raised hands.
“I’m sorry,” she started.
But the waiter danced nimbly aside to prevent collision before tilting a tray in her direction to reveal a vast selection of muffins and pastries. “Choose,” he said curtly.
Her hand obeyed, closing around a blueberry muffin that was almost hot enough to burn the skin off her fingertips. “Thank you...” she started.
Before she finished speaking, though, the waiter was gone and the door to the stairwell had clicked shut in his wake. Fee glanced up skittishly at the sound, but no one asked her what she was doing or why she was skulking unattended through the lower levels of the Sunsphere.
Fee was deep in the heart of enemy territory and it appeared that nobody cared except herself. Numbly, she peeled back the paper cupping the bottom of the muffin and filled her mouth with one warm, sweet bite.
Chapter 6
Mason was bitterly cold. The sensation was so unfamiliar that it took a long moment to figure out why his fingers were numb and his cheeks were raw.
In the past, he’d always been filled with fire, warmth in his belly staving off the effects of both chilly winds and icy surfaces. But Jasper’s wake had lasted for the better part of the night. And by the time dawn touched the eastern horizon, Mason felt empty in a way he never had before.
“It’s not your fault,” one of his remaining brothers said, clapping Mason on the shoulder before shifting and winging skyward in a pillar of flames.
Not his fault? Mason had a hard time believing those placating words when Jasper wasn’t the first brother he’d lost through negligence. Instead, as the Lord Dragon walked with bowed head over to the recessed stairwell that shielded a small portion of the platform from the gusty bite of winter wind, his thoughts turned to a different brother entirely—his long-lost twin.
Although all six siblings had been involved in building the Aerie out of nothing over a decade earlier, Sam had been the genius behind the endeavor. Mason had busied himself carting humans around on his back and using brute strength to get things done, but his twin had been the one to design the intricate hydroponic system that fed the masses. His twin had been the one to retrofit the communications system so Sunsphere residents could stay in touch with the Aerie proper while bypassing the Green. And his twin had been the one to add an elevator to ferry the aged and infirm from floor to floor when the stairs turned out to be too difficult to traverse.
Still, life had gone on after his twin’s
passing, and it would go on after his closest friend’s Fade as well. Despite his efforts to pump himself up, though, Mason couldn’t quite cancel out the shiver that wracked his body, the cold emanating not just from without but also from within.
“Lord Dragon.” The Sunsphere’s steward appeared at his elbow with a clipboard in hand and Mason stifled a restless sigh. Still, he waited as patiently as he was able while the man rattled off a list of tasks needing the Lord Dragon’s immediate and personal consideration. There were trade bargains to be approved of, supplies to be ordered, menus to be considered.
“Menus? Really?” Mason caught himself the moment the words left his lips. He hadn’t meant to snap at the man...but surely that was why they paid cooks?
“Perhaps we could go over the rest of the items tomorrow,” his steward backpedaled, cowering in on himself the way humans were prone to do in the presence of a dragon. Mason thought he’d broken the man of that particular habit after two months heading up the Sunsphere’s internal workings, but apparently one wrong word was enough to set them back to square one.
“Tomorrow,” Mason agreed, his word an apology. Tomorrow, he’d not only look over the menus but also find a way to prove to his steward that the Lord Dragon was merely a man like any other...even if he did possess the rare ability to transform into fire and soar through the air unassisted by modern technology.
For now, though, Mason didn’t possess the patience to clean up his own messes. Instead, he pretended not to hear as a woman called out a greeting while a bevy of children attempted to rope him into a game of tag. Slipping deeper into the stairwell, he fled from the throng that still eddied around the site of Jasper’s passing.
Making a beeline for his own bed was rational, he figured, when he hadn’t slept in what felt like a decade and was chilled to the core. The fact that his treasure was waiting for him there, all long red locks and smooth creamy skin, merely made the destination that much more palatable.
Memory of the woman’s face kindled enough fire in his belly to carry him down five flights of stairs at a trot, but Mason paused before opening the door to his own chambers. If he was lucky, the slogger might mistake him for an ordinary man and welcome him into her presence with none of the fear that usually filled newcomers’ faces. And yet...Mason hadn’t been lucky in a long time. The woman was likely wide awake and he didn’t want to startle her by intruding unannounced.
Tapping lightly on the metal barrier, he called out: “May I enter?”
There. He’d even said “may I” instead of “can I” and “enter” instead of “come in.” Sarah would be proud of his ability to feign civility even if he didn’t feel like a gentleman deep down inside.
Only no one answered, and Mason couldn’t decide whether it was acceptable to wake the girl from potential slumber. So he hesitated for longer than he cared to admit, pacing back and forth in the shallow entranceway that led into his private quarters. His feet were not only metaphorically cold now but were literally numbing from the toes in by the time he made up his mind.
If his treasure was sleeping, he wouldn’t wake her up. But Mason had to set eyes on her face one more time before diving into the hassles of an ordinary day.
The memory of long lashes and a pert nose made him smile as he pushed open the door and strode inside...only to find his bed empty, the sheets cold. Mason transited the entire loop, searching both office and kitchen for signs of life.
Nothing.
Perhaps she’d holed up in the bathroom? But that final chamber was open to the main arena, the small space dark, cold, and lifeless. There was no one inside and Mason was finally forced to admit the truth.
His treasure was gone.
Of course, if the woman had slept ever since being carried down into his chamber the evening before, then she would have woken with the dawn. Nights were so long at this time of year that even an exhausted slogger would be hard pressed to doze for more than sixteen hours straight.
“So she got hungry and went one floor up to find something to eat.”
Talking to himself—was that a sign of incipient Fade?
Squashing the thought along with a shiver that persisted in racing up and down his spine, Mason took the stairs two at a time as he reversed his journey. He pushed into the kitchen like a hot wall of wind-pressed fire flying back out a wood stove’s open door. “Has she been here?” he demanded.
He knew he wasn’t making any sense. Worse, he was scaring the under cook, who’d come down the river by boat just last week and was still unaccustomed to being around dragons even in their human form.
Mason had been trying so hard to tame that one, greeting her with a smile whenever she eked out enough courage to meet his eyes and tiptoeing around the woman as if she were a feral kitten when she was too scared to glance up at his face. Now, the under cook shrieked and dropped a skillet onto the floor, hot grease splattering up onto her exposed calves in the process.
Only the liquid wasn’t hot by the time it reached her—Mason retained just enough presence of mind to yank every hint of flame out of the oil before it could burn her tender skin.
Which probably made everything worse, he realized as the head cook shot such a powerful glare in his direction that he might as well have been struck by a physical projectile. In contrast, her subordinate had descended into pitiful whimpering, head tucked down between shaking knees.
Between the anger of one and the terror of the other, Mason knew he was no longer welcome in the Sunsphere’s kitchen. “Never mind,” he muttered, backing slowly toward the door. There was no need to stay there anyway. He could see from the door that his treasure wasn’t present in the large, open room.
But a waiter grabbed Mason’s arm before he could take himself completely out of the space. “She was here an hour ago,” the young man offered. Unlike the under cook, this particular waiter had been raised in the Sunsphere and showed no fear in the Lord Dragon’s presence. “She took a muffin then went up,” he added, matching gesture to words.
And that waiter deserved a raise. Nodding his thanks, Mason returned to the stairs and followed the trail of his treasure toward the summit.
Chapter 7
The Lord Dragon isn’t a monster.
Fee had gotten her first inkling of that fact when she ran into an impish moppet on the third floor. “Who are you?” the child demanded. Then, without waiting for a reply, the girl raised her arms and demanded to be picked up.
Fee glanced around at nearby adults, expecting horror to flash across worn faces when bystanders noticed a stranger with an Aerie toddler cradled on her hip. But, instead, one woman mouthed “Thank you” from across the room while several other plump, pleasant faces met Fee’s gaze with smiles and gestures of welcome.
“Mason puts me on his shoulders,” the moppet complained from her hip-side perch, making Fee smile. “He said we never have to live out in the cold ever again because he’s a dragon and he says so.”
Fee almost dropped her living burden as it became painfully clear that the child’s Mason and her Lord Mason were one and the same. And, immediately, a devilish thought cloaked in Malachi’s gleeful voice whispered in her ear, reminding her that she needed a way to fly across the expanse of Green to the more central portion of the Aerie. Why not grab a child important to the Lord Dragon then turn the girl into a hostage...as well as a gateway to achieve her goal?
I refuse to pin the success of my mission onto the shoulders of a toddler, Fee told herself, only barely restraining her feet from fleeing as fast as they were able away from the dastardly temptation. Because, really, how much worse was it to turn one sweet child into a victim than to allow dozens of similar youngsters to be caught up in the eventual crossfire?
As if sensing her wavering resolve, the cell phone at her hip buzzed quiet reproof. Fee jumped at the sound, head turning rapidly to determine whether anyone had noticed the technological prodding above the clamor of the room.
To her relief, the only person who ap
peared interested in Fee at the present moment was the child with friends in high places. Well, the child and her mother, the latter of whom was wending her way across the room, soon ending up at Fee’s side.
“He’s not just a dragon,” warm female voice admonished the child. “He’s the Lord Dragon, sweetie. And this lady probably has better things to do than to cart you around.” Then the newcomer’s attention transitioned from toddler to adult as she added, “Here. I’ll trade.”
Fee found her hip abruptly unburdened, her hands instead filled with what appeared to be a meat-filled taco. Beef. Such a treasure to be handed over so readily by an absolute stranger. The unexpected bounty twisted Fee’s gut until she found herself making hurried excuses and fleeing back toward the empty stairwell from which she’d so recently come.
“I hope you’ll visit again soon!” the child’s mother called just before the door clanged shut between heartless invader and the world’s most welcoming prey.
Worse, the cold, empty space made the cell phone’s buzz even louder and angrier. Ducking into an alcove, Fee surreptitiously checked its scratched screen. “Where are you?” her father had texted, his curt wording a slap in the face after the warmth of the people she’d so recently left behind.
Fingers shaking, Fee pushed the cell phone back into its holster without bothering to reply, then headed up the stairs toward the Sunsphere’s fourth level. She needed time to think. Time to figure out what was going on in this Aerie that was so unlike anything she’d expected or seen before. Time to figure out how to help her own people without harming innocents like the moppet who gleefully rode around on the shoulders of a dragon.
So she climbed and ate. Feet moved at a snail’s pace while warm, salty morsels slid down Fee’s throat far too quickly to allow true savoring of the most delicious meal she’d ever eaten. The hunger was just too intense, the flavors too delicious to chew each bite until it disintegrated within her mouth the way she usually did to extend meager repasts.
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