All he saw was her delicate beauty combined with a look of fierce concentration as she spewed heat from her mouth and palms. Kesia attacked the remaining green smoke particles, obliterating them before they could reach him or any of the other guests in the building.
Shance looked around for Zephryn, but the other dragon was nowhere to be seen. Kesia swallowed her fire enough to say, “He’s behind you, slipping back into the party. His Talent is cloaking. I had to protect him from the green smoke so he would be able to use it.”
She did that to protect Zephryn’s Talent? His heart sank as if with a sudden downdraft. “Right. That makes sense.” And it did. Zephryn was her fleetwing. One reason she had taken him aside was to try and understand their bond. How had that led to this explosion? Had they been ambushed?
Footsteps echoed behind him. Kesia’s eyes widened at the sound, and she quickly closed her eyes, concentrating on making her scales vanish. Shance watched them disappear with a twinge of regret. “Is there any way you can disappear or shift into something else and fly away?”
“And how would you explain my sudden disappearance?”
“How can you explain what happened to the smoke? You were obliterating it!”
She pressed her lips together, expression closed. “I’ll tell you later.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” His mind raced. “For now, you need to faint.”
“What?”
Shance held out his arms. “Fall into my arms and act like you’re weak and unconscious. Faint. Like when you’re really tired and you have to take a break. You already look exhausted. Just pretend the attackers knocked you out, and I’m here to take care of you.”
Kesia set her jaw, and her back, which had been bowed over from fatigue, straightened. “A dragon is never weak.”
“Then maybe you’re strongly attracted to the floor. It’s pretend.” Shance strode toward her, holding out his arms. “Trust me, it will work. They can’t learn who you really are.”
If they did find out, it would be the interrogation and execution chamber for her, and permanent grounding for him. The thought of Kesia facing the Removal Vise was a far worse prospect than being grounded. His heart sank further. She couldn’t die.
“All right. I trust you.” Kesia suddenly slumped to the ground. Shance caught her with a breeze and guided her toward him, cradling her close in his arms and supporting her beneath her back and knees. Entirely limp weight.
He was right. She was ready to give out anyway. And yet, Kesia had been willing to try and fight through all of the exhaustion, no matter the cost to her. He stroked the edge of her cheek. “What a strong dragon you are. Do you know how extraordinary you are?”
“Captain Windkeeper.” He turned to see Captain Tegan standing there in full dress uniform, her hair pulled back in its usual tight bun. “What’s the report? Bystanders said your betrothed and an unknown Count had been seen passing this way.”
“Uncertain. Kesia told me she wasn’t on good terms with her relatives from the Scepter of Industry. She didn’t travel here with their blessing.” Words flew out of his mouth quickly, forming a story to satisfy Tegan’s suspicions. “Perhaps this was some kind of vengeance from her family? All I know is when I found her, she had fallen on the ground. Count Nighten was nowhere to be found.”
Tegan gave Kesia a quick look. “Is she harmed?”
“I checked her vitals. I don’t believe she is hurt.” At least that was a believable lie. Shance had taken a few field medic courses in case any of his crew needed medical attention. Another Windkeeper tradition. “I haven’t had a chance to check the room.”
“Understandable.” The other captain drew her standard issue Heotzler pistol and walked cautiously toward the room, her eyes darting back and forth to search every inch. Her nose wrinkled. “Captain Windkeeper, did you see any traces of green smoke in the explosion?”
Shance shook his head. “No, I was too busy with Kesia. Although she muttered something about ‘it’s missing’ before she lost consciousness. I don’t know what she meant.”
“Fiarston.” Captain Tegan’s face tightened. “Her Talent. The new, rising mechanic in High Command, and she’s targeted for an attack to weaken her Talent. Or perhaps, it was this Count Zephryn Nighten. Did he show any signs of being a rebel?”
“I’d just met him.”
“Hm. Right.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “My patrol is doing damage control outside. We will be sure to interrogate Count Nighten once we find him.”
Shance nodded, hoping Kesia was right about Nightstalker’s Talent. “I will get Kesia to our quarters and make a full report to High Command.”
Tegan raised her eyebrows and she gave a short laugh. “You do actually love this one, don’t you, Windkeeper?”
“How do you mean?”
“‘Our quarters’? The next thing you know, you’ll be giving her half your ship as well.” Tegan smirked. “Be careful. The fiery ones will break your heart. I’ll see you at the High Command debrief.”
Shance watched her leave, feeling joy knot with despair in his stomach. As he walked through the Central Market, part of him was eager to see Kesia safely resting and recuperating. The other part was desperately trying to reclaim the heart she’d managed to steal from him in only three days. As he entered the elevator, Kesia stirred in his arms.
“I can let you down now, if you wish.”
She shook her head, and moved closer to him, adjusting herself to curl more tightly in his arms. “You...you were right. Doing that is tiring.”
“How did you learn to do that?”
“In the ship. I burned up the leftover smoke in your ship.” Kesia seemed to grow heavier each moment. His muscles burned in protest. Dragons must have greater density than humans. He swept a handful of breezes beneath his arms, supporting her weight and taking the strain off him. “Tell you more...when you get back. Tell you more of everything. Shance?”
“Yes, Kesia?” He opened the door to their—his—quarters and walked through to the bedroom. He carefully laid her on the blankets near the window.
She sighed, breathing out a whisper of gray smoke, her eyes blinking to dragon slits for a moment. It didn’t matter. It was still Kesia who stared out from them. “When I was burning away the smoke, I saw Countess Nula Thredsing.”
Countess Nula? “Was she running away from the smoke?”
“Yes, but…she didn’t look scared. She looked…” Kesia winced. “I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe...pleased. Satisfied.”
Her words were a punch to the gut. Anger burned within Shance. “She did, hm? Well, I will have to see to that later. I can’t have anyone trying to bomb my betrothed.”
Kesia rolled her eyes. “Even if the betrothal isn’t real?”
“It feels real to me.” Shance resisted the urge to take her hand, choosing instead to give her space. Because he could. Because she was worth it. “You’re different.”
Kesia reached out and took his hand in hers, the pale skin on the back of her hand pebbled with scales again. It was as beautiful as the rest of her. “Thank you. I like knowing how you feel about me without having to guess or needing to mind-speak. Even if I don’t share your feelings.” She flopped back on the pillow, her hand slipping out of his. “I like...you…”
She closed her eyes. It took everything Shance had not to sit beside her and watch her sleep. But that would be a little disturbing. Or a lot disturbing.
She cracked her eyes open, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Go to your meeting, Captain. I can take care of myself.”
“I know, lovely. But sometimes, you shouldn’t have to.” He dared to press a kiss to her hand, then stood and left the bedroom. He was already guessing how High Command would interpret the attack and trying to consider fresh ways to deflect attention from Kesia.
Just before the door closed, his silver mirror pinged. Shance walked over to the desk and pressed his hand to the surface, allowing the subtle ridges within the metal t
o read his palm print. He pulled his hand away and an image emerged, slightly rippled by those same ridges. A wrinkled face and piercing eyes stared out at him, the graying hair pulled back in a bun. Shance sighed. “Zilpath, I don’t have time right now.”
~To the depths with time! I heard about the explosion. You’re in dangerous winds, Shance.~
How good was dragon hearing? It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to chance disturbing Kesia. Before, he might have been worried about her being a dangerous spy and using any overheard information against him. Now Shance just wanted to make sure the dragon could rest.
~At least I’m flying.~ Considering Kesia’s words, he was surprised his feet touched the ground at all. ~Did the Nightstalker get away?~
Zilpath nodded with a dismissive gesture. ~Yes, he is here. Although from what my source tells me, it’s going to get complicated. It already is. We need an emergency meeting now.~
~I already have a meeting now. And Kesia is resting.~
~In your bed?~
“No!” Shance glanced nervously at the door. When it seemed like no one was stirring in the bedroom, he continued with his fingers. ~No. She would never. She’s far too careful and thoughtful and responsible.~
Zilpath shook her head. ~You’ve fallen for her? I suspected as much. Don’t fall any harder until the meeting, Shance.~
~What do you know, Zilpath?~
She only scratched her head. ~It’s not her fault. But it might make things easier—and harder. Meet at my shop, upstairs, just after dusk. Keep your pants on.~
Shance sighed and palmed the mirror again, irritation flooding him, along with the same uneasy feeling that surfaced the night before when Kesia had spoken about the heartflame bond.
Cutting open two hearts and sewing them to each other was madness.
But it also sounded a lot like marriage.
***
Zephryn’s voice cut clear through her insecurities.
A tug from Shance. She blinked, and the streets of the Scepter of Commerce came into focus around her. It was evening, yet the sidewalks were still crowded with people out for entertainment or sales.
“Kesia? Mind the curb.”
The toe of her boot stubbed the concrete. “Fewmets!”
She careened into Shance, who deftly caught her by the elbow. He chuckled. “Careful. Are you still tired?”
“A little.” It was true. Even after resting for six hours, she still felt weak. “I’m checking in with Zephryn.”
“Ah, I see.” Shance’s jaw tightened. She’d learned to identify that as jealousy. “I forget that you two can do that even when you’re not in the same place.”
Kesia nodded. Pushing ahead seemed to be the best way to deal with jealousy. “Only between tactical partners and close family.”
“Anything related to the accident?”
“Yes.”
She focused back on Zephryn’s voice in her head.
Kesia frowned.
As usual, he cleared through the muddle of her guilt. She nodded.
She felt Zephryn’s resignation.
Shance’s hand squeezed hers, jarring Kesia back to her senses again. They had left the busy, downtown area and were now walking through streets that assaulted her nose with scents of food, sweat, and refuse. “Where are we?”
Shance chuckled. “The Low Quarter. Are you always this lacking in observation?”
She rubbed her forehead with her free hand. “No, not usually. But I’m tired.”
“You haven’t been tired before?”
“Not quite like this.”
“True, you did burn off all that green smoke.” He eased them around an open-air grill cooking some kind of meat. Rat? It could have been rat. “By the way, how the doldrums did you do that?”
“I don’t know. Did anyone see me?”
“The only possible witness would be Captain Tegan, and she didn’t say anything about it at the meeting. I think we’re safe.”
Kesia sighed. “Good.”
“A useful skill, though.”
She nodded, saved from having to make more conversation by raucous music spewing from an amalgamation of people in brightly colored clothing. The array of instruments was a combination of tins, barrels, and stringed wooden boxes.
Shance winced and whispered in her ear, “Rejects from the Music Quarter.”
“I see.” His scent was still irresistible. Oddly similar to Zephryn’s scent during their kissing in the utility room. Another puzzle to sort out, one that she felt strangely reticent to share with Zephryn.
Surely she could solve some things on her own. In the end, kissing Zephryn was far more pleasurable. If only it had been allowed to go on longer.
Her heart raced.
A grin stretched her lips.
His uncertainty flickered over their mental bond.
The overwhelming odor of perfumes and musty shelving jolted her from her reverie. Zilpath’s shop. Kesia shook her head to clear it. She needed to focus. Just speaking about kissing with Zephryn distracted her, as did every mental conversation they had. Craving his presence made other things less important. Maybe he was right: kissing was too dangerous right now.
“Come on.” Shance tugged her hand again, leading her through the store. Bolts of fabric brushed her arms and face as they crept through the shadowy displays of colorful wares, their hues now rendered muted in the low light.
There was the spot where Shance had kissed her. His kiss hadn’t been at all like Zephryn’s. Her fleetwing’s touch had been hot and fierce. Shance’s kiss had been cool and refreshing, once she’d gotten past the general oddness of touching mouths with someone else.
Fascinating. But not as satisfying.
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about this?
“Fewmets!”
The word was only a whisper, but as she entered the room, everyone else fell silent, making the epithet resound like cannon fire. Heat rushed to her face and forehead.
“We’re glad you could make it.” The words emerged from under the hood of a cloaked fi
gure standing in the corner of the tiny room. In fact, everyone there was cloaked and hooded in gray, robes she’d seen in passing while walking around the Scepter of Commerce. Even Zephryn had donned a matching garment.
She fidgeted, worry raising the hair on her arms. What was wrong? Was this ordinary secrecy or something more?
The same cloaked figure spoke in a quiet male voice. “I regret the need for these cloaks, but we must do this for our own protection. Zilpath might not worry about her status, but the other cloaked individual and myself hold positions that we cannot risk. Particularly since dragons can search the minds of other dragons. Zephryn has stated he can cloak his own mind, but you, Ironfire, are still a risk.”
Kesia nodded. “I understand.”
As usual, she was a liability. Although if the Pinnacle did capture her and try to search her mind, she wouldn’t make it easy for them. She’d somehow managed to protect her own memories from herself.
“What kind of robes are those?”
“The garb of Four Corners clerics,” Shance said. He stood at her side, his expression dismissive.
“What?”
He glanced at her incredulously. “Four Corners. One of the oldest religions in all Sekastra? Keepers of destiny, followers of truth, devoted to Bonilus the All-Seer and his apostles, Allandra and Olosael.”
Kesia raised her eyebrows. A small gust of smoke came from under Zephryn’s hood, and he pulled it off, revealing his face.
No! Focus on what he was saying. The All-Maker and Those Above were the makers and protectors of dragonkind, opposed by their foe, the Destroyer. Myths, considered foolish by the Pinnacle. Belief in them was banned, but that didn’t stop dragons from crying out for their help during a mission.
Another figure pushed back her hood, revealing the gray hair of the shopkeeper, Zilpath. Her fingers began moving furiously, and Shance snorted. “She says you should remember there are humans in the room, so be careful with the mindspeak.”
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