by J. D. Monroe
A shiver ran down her spine. Mine. “Considering the circumstances, it feels stupid to say it, but I feel the same about you,” she said. “When Catrina wanted to bring you in, that was when I knew.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “I was standing there in the middle of Haven when she said it, and I thought ‘don’t you fucking touch him’, clear as a bell. All these questions were running around in my head, but that was absolutely certain. I would have killed every one of them before I let them touch you.”
“So ferocious,” he said.
“Are you mocking me?”
He turned up her chin, his eyes solemn as he regarded her. “Not one bit. While I prefer protecting you, it’s very nice to be cared for.” He grasped her hand lightly, then pressed it flat over his heart. His pulse was steady beneath her fingers. “Can I ask you a personal question without ruining everything?”
“When you start it that way, I’m not sure how to answer,” she said. “But go ahead.”
“How did a girl like you end up with the Chosen? You’re smart and strong. How did they suck you in?”
The question made her feel exposed, which was impressive considered she was virtually naked and on display for him. “Well, it started with my mother.” She chuckled. “This feels like a therapy session.”
“You don’t have to tell me. We can just lie here and think about how nice you smell instead,” he said solemnly.
She laughed. “You pick good bubble bath.”
“That was all my niece,” he said.
“Well, give her my compliments,” she said. “No, I don’t mind. It’s pretty sad, but you might be the only friend I have left. If that’s what we are.”
“Friend is probably understating things,” he said. “But not incorrect.”
“My mother was Kadirai, but my father was human,” Marlena said. “She didn’t even tell me until I was eleven or twelve. If puberty isn’t bad enough for a sixth-grade girl, imagine the confusion when you start shifting involuntarily and growing scales on your arms. She sat me down and explained what she was, but she was very adamant that I was part of this world. I needed to be normal, which meant non-dragon. From what little she told me, I had all these fantastic dreams about Ascavar. I would beg her to tell me more, but she always refused.”
“Not unusual for a Wanderer,” he said. “She may have had her reasons.”
“Maybe,” Marlena said. “But it got worse. I was stronger and faster than most of the girls in school. I got recruited for the track team in ninth grade, and I was so excited to tell Mom. I thought she’d be proud of me, but she was furious. She refused to sign the papers, telling me I had to blend in. Everything I wanted to do, she said no. I talked about joining the military when I finished school. Something to help people, you know? But every time, she would pull up some website and show me where they required drug testing or medical exams.”
“And we fuck up blood typing,” Velati said. “That’s why you don’t have football teams stacked with Kadirai or even hybrids. They all light up drug tests with false positives.”
She nodded. “So, I went to college. A lot of girls I knew went crazy with the partying and the booze. And…I joined a cult. My second semester, I met another hybrid who wasn’t ashamed of what she was. We lived in the same dorm, and I knew what she was the moment I saw her. Or smelled her, rather.” She sighed. “She got me involved with this local group of Kadirai in Boulder. It was amazing. They were teaching me the language, sharing stories about their world. After about a year, I was introduced to Catrina Savas, who said there was something special about me.” Her chest tightened. “I guess it sounds pathetic. I was so desperate to be a part of something, and they were probably just meeting quotas. When they wanted to bring me in to start my training, I left school and never looked back.”
“Hey,” he said. She lifted her head to see a solemn look in his eyes. “You’re not pathetic.”
Her eyes stung with tears. “I guess.”
He sat up abruptly, pinning one arm on either side of her. “Look at me. You are not defined by the Chosen. You are defined by your own choices. And you keep choosing correctly.”
“Why are you so determined to believe that I’m a good person?”
“Because you are,” he said, like it was obvious. “I knew it long before you turned. And I was right. As usual.” He bent his head, helping himself to a long, hungry kiss. A warm wave of pleasure rolled over her like a wave on sun-kissed sand. That wasn’t doing much to calm her desire for him. “You are worth fighting for, Marlena. And regardless of what they made you think, you are special. Not because of some made-up god, not because of these marks, not because of your heritage.” His hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to him. “Because of who you choose to be. And whether you like it or not, I’ll fight for you with everything I have.”
Her breath escaped in a trembling sigh, and her throat swelled. “It’s not fair when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make this perfect speech that makes me feel like everything is going to be all right,” she said. “Like we’ve already won.”
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “You can try it, too.” He raised his voice to a falsetto. “Oh, Velati, you are the most noble, handsome warrior I have ever met…” She pinched his sides and prompted a delightful burst of laughter as he tumbled to the side.
“I like you this way,” she said. “You’re not so serious.”
His smile evaporated, and she mentally kicked herself for pointing it out. “I like being this way. Right now I can just be Velati,” he said. “Outside that door, I have to be the Cold Death. Every decision has to be correct. I have to be worthy of my reputation, for better or worse.” He sighed and sat up, rubbing his temples. “I hate to mention it now, but there will be a meeting of the queens very soon. Tomorrow, in fact. They want you to be there. Just to answer questions or fill in gaps for us.”
Her heart thumped. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to, but it would be a big help.”
“I can do it,” she said. “You’ll be there?”
“I will,” he said.
“Then I’ll be fine,” she said. “Should I prepare?”
He shook his head. “No. Tomorrow is a long way off. And we have this whole island to ourselves.”
Though his arm had long gone numb, Velati Rimewing didn’t move and risk waking the sleeping woman snuggled against his chest. It was hard to resist her obvious desire, but as he’d predicted, she fell asleep mid-conversation and slept through the night. In the long, mysterious stretch of twilight before sunrise, he wished for a simpler life. He wished that he was simply a man, that she was simply a woman, without the fate of two worlds resting on their shoulders.
His phone vibrated with a text from Sohan just after sunrise.
Sohan: Conclave starts at noon. Gather at 11. Dress nice
Sohan: Remind them who we are
He smiled grimly at the message and set the phone aside, then folded his arm around Marlena and savored her warmth. Mouth slightly open, one leg hooked over his, Marlena was more at ease than he’d ever seen her. Her trust was a gift he didn’t take lightly.
He feared what his people would ask of her. Hell, he feared what he might eventually ask, knowing she would do it to please him and make up for the sins of the Chosen. He knew that the fate of his people had to take precedence, and if sacrificing her would save all of Ascavar…it wouldn’t come to something so severe. It couldn’t.
Carefully using one hand to keep from jostling her, he responded to texts from home, verifying that Molly had continued to manage the shop smoothly without him. He had several strongly worded emails from clients whose appointments had been bumped, but he replied with a promise to discount their session when he returned.
After another hour, he reluctantly leaned down to kiss Marlena’s forehead. He traced the serpentine curves of crimson ink over her spine, laughing a little as she arched into him. R
aising sleepy eyes to his, she murmured. “Hm?”
“It’s time to wake up,” he said. “Unfortunately.”
She sighed and put her head back down on his chest. Her fingers splayed across his ribs, tracing the markings. “Let’s stay here forever.”
“I agree with the sentiment,” he said. He laughed as her finger found a ticklish spot on his side. “But right now, we have a meeting. Afterward, we can come back here and do whatever you like.”
She sighed and stretched lazily, giving him a fine view of her breasts. The sight of her, back arched into a graceful curve, was enough to send a rush of heat to his groin. He sat up, turning away from her before the distraction drew him into temptation. He suspected she knew exactly the effect she was having on him.
“Find something nice to wear.” He stretched and reluctantly got out of bed. His arm prickled as the blood made its way back to his fingers. “I’m sure Allana gave you plenty of options.”
An hour later, they were both freshly showered and dressed. He took extra care to shave, working a fragrant oil into his trimmed beard. Instead of modern clothes, he wore ceremonial attire from home. Different families and dragonflights had their own preferred colors, but the Arik’tazhan had always worn black and silver, showing their loyalty was beyond arbitrary borders and bloodlines. He wore a black garment with intricate silver embroidery that was cut wide and deep, revealing the kor-dalak tattoos across his chest.
The uniform made this feel real, in way that hadn’t sunk in even after everything that had happened in the last few weeks. He was about to stand before the queens, with the full weight of their expectations on his shoulders. The last Conclave had been during the Great War. The significance of this meeting could not be overstated.
When he stepped out of the bathroom after one last check, Marlena stopped in her tracks, mouth hanging open. “You look really good.”
Heat flushed in his cheeks. “It’s old-fashioned.”
“I like it,” she said. “It suits you.”
She had put together an outfit of all black, with a pair of snug pants that accentuated her lean legs, and a low-cut top that revealed the ornate tattoos on her chest and arms. “I feel underdressed.”
“You look fine,” he said.
She approached, resting one hand on his chest. “I…I’m a little worried about this. What they’re going to think of me.”
“I understand. They may not take kindly to you,” he said. “Whatever happens, it does not change my regard for you.” He tilted her chin up. Her downcast eyes slowly drifted up to his. “Do you regret coming with me?”
Her expression was resolute, her jaw set. “Not for a second.”
He kissed her forehead. “Then let’s go.”
At quarter till eleven, Velati and Marlena arrived in the lobby of the Tempest offices. Sohan and Dyadra were already there, both dressed in the traditional black. Sohan’s tunic revealed the massive, twisted scar down the center of his chest, where the work of the Raspolin had marked him forever. Dyadra’s dark hair was intricately braided and ornamented with small silver beads.
He bowed slightly to her. “You look nice.”
She brushed her hand over one of the thin braids. “Some things you don’t forget,” she said. She smirked. “It was harder to do by myself, but I figured you were occupied.”
He inspected the complex braid. “You did all right, but I do it better.”
A few moments later, Rosak entered the lobby with his two assistants in tow. He wore a dark gray uniform, a slightly more refined version of what the palace guards wore. “Thank you for being early,” he said. He offered his hand to Marlena. “Have you recovered enough to use your power?” Though he was still gruff, he had clearly softened toward her.
She grasped his large hand. “I can try. If you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.” He glanced back at his assistants, who both stepped forward. Piryne’s hand drifted to the gun at her hip.
There was a palpable sense of pressure in the air as Marlena gazed up at him. The marks on her skin glowed faintly, but her shoulders slumped in defeat. Pain creased her brow. “I feel much better, but I’m not quite there.”
“Understood,” Rosak said. “We’ll be questioning the staff as soon as she’s ready. I need to know who we can trust.” In a strangely kind gesture, he patted Marlena’s shoulder. “Until then…”
“It’s fine,” she said. She put out her hands, allowing Rosak’s male assistant, Garid, to secure the manacles on her wrists.
“That’s unnecessary,” Velati said.
She shook her head. “I know that. Your queens don’t know that. If this will reassure them of where I stand, then I’m happy to do it.”
Rosak caught Velati’s eye. “I need you three for a moment,” he said. “Ms. Nightrunner, please wait here with my assistants.”
Marlena took a seat, apparently unfazed by the armed Tempest agents watching her. With Sohan and Dyadra, Velati followed Rosak into his office. He closed the door, circling the desk to his laptop. Sohan eased into one the leather seats, silver eyes narrowed as Rosak typed rapidly. “The Skywatch got this call yesterday evening.”
There was a brief hiss of white noise before a recording began. “Good morning, Skywatch dispatch,” a polite female voice said in Kadirai.
“Good morning,” a calm male voice replied in English. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “How can I help you?”
“This is a message for the Kadirai. For the Arik’tazhan who think to interfere in my business,” he said. Velati’s stomach plunged into the ground. “You have something of mine. I will have it back. It’s your choice how it happens. Release the girl, or I will take her.”
“Um, sir?”
“I have eyes everywhere. My seeds are planted deep,” he said. “Blood will run, and you will reap what you deserve.”
“Sir, I don’t—”
“Pass the message along,” he said. The line went dead.
“Sir? Sir? Shit,” the woman said. Then the recording stopped.
They sat in silence for a long stretch. Rosak’s eyes were distant, his brow furrowed. For the first time, Velati felt sympathy for him. He was in over his head, trying desperately not only to stay afloat but to keep this entire place above water.
“Did you tell the queen?” Sohan asked.
“I spoke to her this morning,” he said. “She says she yields to your judgment.”
“Does anyone else know? Your assistants?” Sohan asked.
Rosak shook his head. “Just us, Erevan Skyblaze, and the dispatcher who took it to him.”
“Keep it that way for now,” Sohan said.
“We could lay a trap for them,” Dyadra said. “Pretend to give her up and jump them.”
“No,” Velati said firmly.
She gave him a sharp look. “We should ask the girl. She might be willing to do it.”
That was exactly his fear. No matter how much he reassured her, guilt still weighed heavily on her. She’d risk herself if she thought it would make up for what the Chosen had done. “We wait.”
“Agreed,” Sohan said. “They’re not going to send the man in charge to pick her up. It’s not worth the risk. I want to take the fight directly to them and shut them down.”
Rosak nodded. “I just wanted you all to know.”
Dyadra’s eyes narrowed. “In the meantime, you should step up security. Make sure the queens are both well-protected. And if we’re keeping Marlena here, then you keep her under lock and key,” she said, glancing at Velati.
“I’ve already given orders to my lieutenants to increase patrols and to provide extra bodyguards for the queens,” Rosak said. “We really need her to question everyone.”
“What about the other one? Kohra?” Velati asked.
Sohan shook his head. “I talked to her and her guardian. She’s barely here. Tandar was worried that she could hurt someone by accident.”
“It’s bad enough to co
mpel our people,” Rosak said. “Even worse if one of them gets hurt because of it. We’ll wait for Marlena. In the meantime, we need to go.”
Back in the lobby, Marlena’s eyes searched him. He forced a smile, hoping she didn’t detect his unease. The faintest hint of fear flickered across her face. As he watched her square her shoulders and raise her chin high, he was overcome with the need to protect her. She was his now. And anyone who dared to touch her would have to come through him.
Two more Tempest agents joined them, each carrying bags of equipment. Out of sheer habit, Velati and Sohan fell into formation on either side of Dyadra, who led the procession through the palace like she was marching to war.
With the threatening call and the momentous event of a Conclave, the security presence in Skyward Rest had been intensified. The entrances were all guarded as usual, and well-armed guards strolled the halls. Four guards stood abreast at the throne room doors. Two carried the traditional jagged spears of Skyward Rest, while two wore guns on their hips. The modern weaponry sent a chill of dread prickling down his spine. They proceeded to the queen’s sitting room which had been transformed into a high-tech conference room.
The silk banners and sculptures had been moved, making room for three huge monitors on rolling stands. Several cameras balanced on tripods amidst a tangle of black cords. All three screens showed a close shot of a Kadirai woman, each of them well dressed and wearing a jeweled crown. He recognized two of the queens. He pointedly avoided looking at Queen Halmerah, ruler of the Stoneflight. He also recognized Queen Tarim of the Ironflight. Her screen wasn’t centered, and her brother, Zayir sat next to her. They were nearly mirror images of each other, though rumors raised the question of who actually ruled the Ironflight.
“Su’ud redahn, you can look here when you speak,” a female voice said off-screen. Tarim frowned and looked up, her amber eyes suddenly widening. “That’s it.”