by C. I. Black
“Why are you here torturing yourself?” Diablo asked.
“Anaea’s power is getting stronger, and her control isn’t keeping up. She felt it was safer to stay here than be alone at her and Hunter’s house.”
“So you stay.”
“I promised Hunter.” At least this promise to Hunter gave him purpose. It might have dragged him out of Court’s safe interdimensional sphere and into the human realm, not to mention endangered his life a number of times, but it gave him purpose. That and Court wasn’t safe any more for any drake and certainly not for one who was clearly aligned with Hunter — Prince Regis’s number one enemy.
“When this is done, Hunter is going to be in debt to you up to his eyeballs.” Diablo dropped with predatory grace onto the sofa across from Grey. There was something dangerous about Diablo, more so than any other drake Grey knew, as if the dragon soul trapped within Diablo’s fragile human body was bigger, meaner, than other drakes.
The light caught on something shiny smeared along the neck of his black T-shirt and a spray of drops down his chest. It hadn’t been noticeable on Diablo from the other side of the room, but now, at the right angle—
“Is that blood?”
Diablo glanced down at his shirt and shrugged.
“I didn’t think you had a line on any more human mages.”
“I didn’t. Walk of shame, remember.”
“Jeez, tell me it’s your blood and not some human woman’s.”
“What if it was consensual?” Diablo flashed a wicked grin.
“I don’t want to know, and I’m pretty sure Nero doesn’t, either. You might want to change before your meeting.”
“That was my intention before I saw you needed a drink.” Diablo downed his scotch in a swift gulp.
“I feel much better, thanks.” The shadows at the edges of the room billowed. Grey tensed, concentrating on the blood splatter on Diablo’s shirt. Stay in the present. Just stay, at least until Diablo leaves. He couldn’t risk letting Diablo or anyone know how weak he really was.
Diablo stared into his empty glass then blew out a heavy breath. “Don’t ask me, but I’m sure everyone else in this house would be happy to help you get your shit together.”
“My shit is just fine.” Grey flashed his teeth in a half-hearted show of aggression.
“So you say.” Diablo stood and the reek of rotten food filled the room and far away, a telephone rang.
Grey’s throat burned.
The ringing grew louder.
Diablo pursed his lips.
Just go already, so I can go crazy in private.
“How fast can you heal?”
Someone screamed… or was that the phone ringing again? The alley flickered over the living room then melted back into the shadows.
Another ring… scream?
Diablo’s frown deepened. “Are you going to get that?”
No. It’s just a memory. It wasn’t real—
But if Diablo could hear it—
Crap. It was his phone.
The ring came again, and Grey pulled his phone from his pocket. Please let it be Hunter and he’s found the Handmaiden. He looked at the call display and his chest tightened. The number listed was Tobias’s, which meant no relief from the memories and more than likely some kind of mess with Court that could get him killed.
CHAPTER 2
“Hello, Tobias,” Grey said, fighting to push back the remembered alley where he’d been attacked. “What’s wrong?”
Diablo raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. No one at Court could know Grey was close with the Major Black Coterie. Association with Diablo alone could endanger Nero, and with the witch hunt Regis was currently on, it would mean Nero would more than just fall out of the Prince’s favor.
“Why would you automatically think something is wrong?” Tobias growled.
“Because with Hunter and the Handmaiden gone and things still falling out from the assassination attempt on Barna, you’ve made it clear I’m persona non grata at Court.”
“I was looking out for you.”
“You were and I appreciate that.” If Regis found out Tobias had warned Grey to leave Court, Tobias could take Grey’s place in the Court’s dungeons with the royal torturer. “So it means something is very wrong for you to be calling me. That and it’s four in the morning.”
“Five,” Diablo mouthed.
“I thought it was five in Newgate. Have you moved?”
“Not what we were talking about,” Grey said, trying to pull the conversation away from his location. He doubted Tobias would send men to arrest him, not after warning him to flee, but Regis could have increased any number of pressures on his chamberlain. Now was not a good time to be a drake in the royal coterie’s employ.
“Right. I wish it wasn’t so damned obvious something was wrong.”
“Even if Regis wasn’t after me, everything has still gone seriously sideways.” The living room darkened for a moment, and a hint of reeking garbage tickled Grey’s nose, but the alley didn’t fully manifest. Thank the Mother of All for that. “I’d be an idiot to assume you were calling for social reasons.”
“Yeah, because we’re not social.”
Definitely not with Grey, and he wasn’t sure if Tobias was social with anyone. For a drake who had a hand in every aspect of dragon life and had all the contacts to go with that, he certainly kept to himself.
“Someone broke into the Handmaiden’s chambers.”
“Broke in?”
“As in forced open both her outer door and the door to her inner chambers and ransacked the place.”
Shit. Things really had turned sideways if drakes were doing that. No one broke into the Handmaiden’s chambers. Even if those rooms weren’t officially sacred, everyone treated them like they were. Heck, very few drakes entered her inner chambers, let alone her outer one — Grey had only been past the outer chamber three times in the last nine hundred years. “How bad is it? Any idea what they were looking for?”
“It’s bad, and I have no clue. I need you to come to Court.”
Grey’s heart skipped a beat. “You can’t possibly think I did it.”
Diablo jerked forward, even more alert.
“What?” Tobias asked, his tone surprised and confused. “No. I’d never think you’d ransack the Handmaiden’s rooms.”
“But Regis does. He wants to arrest me.” Of course, Regis wouldn’t have to make up something like breaking into the Handmaiden’s chambers to issue an arrest warrant for Grey. He was sure the prince could issue one — if one hadn’t already been issued — for associating with Hunter and Anaea.
“Regis doesn’t know about this yet. You’re the Handmaiden’s man. Even if it isn’t official, she’s her own coterie.”
Grey snorted. “That would make it, what? A coterie of one?”
“Two. You’re her sworn servant. That makes you her Second. By law, you have the right to attend to her business when she’s not in Court.”
“That still doesn’t ease my fear that Regis is going to arrest me the moment I step foot in Court.”
Tobias’s heavy breath hissed over the connection in an exasperated sigh. “Look. I have a bad feeling about this. I have no idea what magic and knowledge the Handmaiden is keeping secret to protect us. Do you?”
“No.” Even as her servant, Grey only knew what she wanted him to. She’d revealed powerful magics before by surprising everyone and creating the Asar Nergal — the organization that hunted and killed human mages — shortly after the Great Scourge. She could have something else in her chambers that could tip the political balance. Except even the suggestion of another coup right now could throw Regis over the edge.
“If someone has their hands on something powerful that will set Regis off and threaten the lives of more drakes, I want to know. And if it’s Regis, I want to know that, too, before he has a chance to cover it up. It’s the Handmaiden’s private chambers. That’s sacred even to the Royal Coterie.”
“I’m the Court’s man,” he growled. “That makes me the Handmaiden’s. She hasn’t supported anyone else’s claim to the throne, so I support Regis.”
“I’m not sure she ever supported Regis’s claim.” But she never spoke against him, either. She’d kept more than an arm’s length from dragon politics, something Grey had appreciated at the time. Swearing himself into her service might have alienated him from his coterie, but it also kept him out of most of the messes. Particularly the uprising in 1521 when Regis proclaimed his father, King Constantine, soul sick and took control of the throne. But now, with dragon politics pulling dragonkind apart, he wasn’t sure how good it was for her to keep out of it. If she just took a stand, surely most drakes would abide by her decision.
“Supporting Regis has kept things stable, us hidden and alive.”
“Until recently.” And if Zenobia hadn’t attempted her coup, things might have carried on as usual for another couple hundred years.
Darkness flickered across Grey’s vision and cannon fire thwumped in the distance. He ground his teeth and willed himself to concentrate on Tobias’s voice and the dangers at hand. If Regis really had commanded the Handmaiden’s chambers be ransacked, who knew what the dragon prince would do next?
“That’s why I need you. Regis will want me to assign my own man, but given how the prince is running things, that man will have to report to Regis as well. I won’t be able to stall on revealing information or maybe even knowing the whole truth.”
“You’re afraid your man won’t tell you everything?”
Diablo frowned. Yeah, it was never good if the chamberlain feared his own people were keeping things from him.
“My people are in a more precarious situation than I am. I at least know how to run Court, which makes Regis think twice about arresting me,” Tobias said, his tone darkening. “And I know the head of my North American Clean Team thought it prudent less than a week ago to keep information from me.”
“Capri had good reason.” And the biggest reason was her human mage inamorato, who dragon law demanded Capri kill — something she’d never do.
“I’m only partially furious about that. What I’m really pissed about is this break-in. Too many drakes are making moves that permanently kill other drakes and that includes Regis. If pressed, I can argue that because you’re her man, you noticed the break-in before I did.”
“Way to cover your ass.”
“Are you going to meet me at the Handmaiden’s chambers or not?” Tobias asked, his tone suddenly exhausted.
“Your word this isn’t a trap.” It wasn’t a guarantee, but Tobias was one of a few drakes whose word was still his bond.
“It’s not a trap. I’m in the hall outside her chambers. Help me figure out what the hell is going on.” He blew another sigh. “In the very least, you’re sworn to her service. Help me put her room back so it isn’t a disaster when she returns.”
“I’ll be there in five.” Grey ended the call and shoved his phone into the back pocket of his slacks.
“Of course it’s a trap,” Diablo said. “I don’t even know what it is, but I know if you return to Court, Regis will throw you in prison.”
“Someone broke into the Handmaiden’s chambers and ransacked them.”
“So?”
“What do you think Regis would do right now if whoever it was used some kind of magic the Handmaiden had been protecting us from?”
Diablo’s expression hardened. “If they already have it, there isn’t anything we can do to stop Regis.”
“I can at least figure out if anything was taken.”
“And then what? Did the Handmaiden keep security cameras in her room?” Diablo snorted as if that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “You have no way of knowing who to go after. You can’t stop them.”
“Won’t know if I don’t try.” Grey stood and headed to the door leading onto the patio. God, this was a terrible idea, but doing nothing wasn’t an option.
Diablo grabbed his glass and strode to the bar. “Won’t be able to try from prison.”
Grey pressed his hands to the misted glass door and drew in a steadying breath before summoning a gate to Court. If he didn’t keep hold of his intended destination, his gate could move to his suite — on the opposite side of Court from the Handmaiden’s chambers — or worse, latch onto the magical anchor for Court’s official gate, depositing him at the feet of four of Regis’s guards. “If I don’t answer my phone in an hour, feel free to sneak into Court and break me out.”
“You wish.” Diablo poured himself another drink.
“Fine. Tell Anaea to tell Hunter to break me out.” Grey hissed his power word and summoned the gate. A pinprick of black flared to life, grew into a devouring man-sized vortex, and he stepped through.
The world twisted. For a split second neither up nor down existed, then his foot hit something hard and the hall outside the Handmaiden’s chamber door appeared. It was a plain granite passage — walls, floor, and ceiling — filled with a magical light from a source Grey had never been able to pinpoint, just like all the other plain granite passages in Court.
A hint of fog, the threat that his memories were going to overwhelm him, danced over his sight. He clenched his jaw, straining to stay connected with the present. But the hall looked like all the other halls from the beginning of the creation of Court, and for a second he didn’t know where or when he was.
Someone cleared his throat, drawing Grey’s attention to a dragon at the end of the hall. Tobias. A drake in a muscular human body large enough to challenge Grey’s northern Crusader. He had a wide, strong black aura, revealing he was old enough to remember the Great Scourge.
This had to be present time…?
“Glad you decided to risk it.”
Yes, present time.
The chamberlain’s steely gaze darted over Grey’s, and his expression darkened even more.
“I know, I look like shit,” Grey said. “Let’s move on.”
“Sure.” Tobias stepped aside and pointed at the Handmaiden’s door. It stood ajar and the lock had been broken as if it hadn’t been magically enspelled shut.
“Null magic?” Grey asked. It was the only way to get around the protection spells the Handmaiden had cast on the door. Except the only drake who had possessed null magic had been Hunter before his encounter with Anaea had forced him to give up his Crusader’s body.
“Or some kind of magic lockpick.”
“That would take another sorcerer.” A shiver swept over Grey. If there was another sorcerer around, Regis would completely lose his shit. Sorcerers had cast the Great Scourge, sentencing dragonkind into this parasitic spirit state. Sure, they lived an immortal life, but accidents — and even not-so-accidental accidents — happened. With no new dragons being born, since none could be born, dragonkind faced extinction.
Except it seemed some dragons didn’t care. The Handmaiden, the dragons’ only true sorcerer and the magical lifeline for all dragonkind, had been gone for only a few weeks — a mere blink of an eye in a dragon’s reality — and yet that blink had resulted in the loss of over six dozen drakes. Dragonkind was ripping itself apart, and too many drakes didn’t care that a death right now was a permanent death. Without the medallion present to capture a dragon’s soul and the Handmaiden to cast the rebirth spell, which placed that dragon’s soul into a new, unoccupied human vessel, the spirit of any drake killed in those few weeks was lost forever into the universal ether.
“Yeah, I don’t like the idea of another sorcerer out there, either.” Tobias pushed the door open, revealing the plain chamber inside. The Handmaiden’s solitary chair and table sat, as usual, dead center, with nothing else in the room.
The image of her sitting there, a silver aura radiating around her, her eyes kind and sad, flashed over Grey’s vision. Last time he’d been there, he’d begged her to rebirth him, to
strip away everything that made him who he was — including the memories he couldn’t forget and the magic that seared it with perfect clarity into his mind. She’d refused and instead sent another thread of power into him to ease his memories.
He’d known then she was going to leave. She’d been wearing shoes. She never wore shoes in Court, only when she was going to leave. And the last time she’d done that, the Dragon Court had been thrown into turmoil as well. Regis had imprisoned his soul sick father in his suite and taken the throne.
Grey stepped inside, barely feeling the tingling magic tickle over his skin from the gatelock which prevented anyone from free gating inside her chambers. He sucked in a quick breath and fought to shove the memory of the Handmaiden back into the recesses of his mind. The image grew transparent but didn’t vanish. Just great. It looked like that was the best he was going to get, so he turned his focus to the door in the center of the back wall, leading to her inner chambers. It, too, stood ajar with the lock broken.
Inside, all the bookshelves were toppled over, her diaries, volumes upon volumes of leather-bound books, scattered across the floor, open, upside down, and with bent and torn pages. Her desk’s top had been swept empty, everything shoved to the floor, and all the drawers were open — two had been pulled out and upended on the wicker couch a few feet away. The three dozen glass globes she’d hung on the stairwell that curled against the back wall, and the four dozen she’d hung along the balcony of the second level, had been smashed, and her two-story tapestry of a silver dragon in flight had been torn down.
An image of the Handmaiden standing on the staircase, her aura radiant, filled Grey’s vision. She seemed otherwordly, more than just an ancient silver drake, but something else, something powerful. He tried to blink away the feeling and the vision. Now wasn’t the time. She felt different — she always felt just a little bit different — because she kept to herself and didn’t let anyone, not even Grey, get too close.
“We’ve got until lunch. That’s when I… come to do my regular check. I’ll have to report this then.”