by C. I. Black
Grey wasn’t sure what happened between 1049 and 1109, since he’d spent all of that time avoiding Court and working as a mercenary with Hunter. But the 1497 listing could refer to Regis taking the throne from his soul sick father in 1521, and this century certainly was seeing a lot of upheaval.
Even the mark beside the 1201 listing could mean something, since he’d sworn himself into the Handmaiden’s service in 1295. Of course, that was probably him seeing meaning where there wasn’t any. She’d never asked him to do anything while in her service except read her journals, and even then it was clear he hadn’t been asked to read her most important ones.
“I can’t go back to Tobias without knowing where Jet went.” Ivy hissed something too quietly for Grey to make it out. It was probably her power word, and her aura flared, confirming the guess. The room snapped into crystal clarity, and a shudder swept through Grey. “If I can copy the page, we’ll have the information Jet has.”
The urge to grab Ivy, establish physical contact — deep physical contact — clawed through him. He needed to hold her, have her close, have her. Except that was just his condition speaking, his inability to control his unwanted earth magic and his desperate need for the relief her power offered.
But he’d already decided if he gave in to this obsession, even just once, it would only make everything else more difficult. Why couldn’t he just keep that in mind?
She squeezed her eyes shut and her aura flared. Her head jerked toward the entrance of the nook, and she gripped the podium as if it took everything she had to stay where she was. Her chest heaved with fast gasps, and the muscles in her neck tightened with strain.
“Show me the page,” she growled.
Another burst of her aura. Grey’s sight sharpened even more, the edges of reality too crisp and clear and painful to look at. Grey hugged himself. Don’t move. Don’t touch her. But Mother, it was all he could think of.
She wrenched away from the podium, her eyes still closed, and stumbled. He lurched forward to grab her before he realized what he was doing, but she took another quick staggering step, closing the distance between them too fast. Her body bumped his before he could correct his mistake and his arms started to sweep around her again, like they had the last time she’d bumped into him when she’d had her earth magic activated.
Everything within him screamed yes and no in a clamor that roared through him. It tore at him, his soul cried for what he craved, and his mind cried for what he knew he should really do.
He leapt back and hit a shelf. A heavy leather-bound tome toppled over. He grabbed it before it fell, but knocked a vase and three other books to the floor.
Ivy gasped. Her aura snapped to its dimmer setting, and her arms wrapped across her chest as if she were trying to protect herself, but Grey couldn’t figure out from what. Probably him. Good male drakes didn’t touch a female without her consent. You’d lose a claw — and if you were lucky, only a claw and nothing else. Not to mention a smart drake didn’t get close with someone who endangered everything you held dear. No matter how much his insides screamed he had to stay near her.
“I can’t keep my focus,” she said, her gaze holding his soul captive for a heartbeat.
“Tobias will understand.” He wrenched his attention from her and dropped to the floor to put the books back on the shelf — the vase, now in dozens of pieces, he couldn’t do much about.
“It’s not Tobias I’m worried about. It’s—”
“You need to be careful about saying things like that.” It didn’t matter that he knew who she was talking about and agreed with her. She was a member of the Royal Coterie. Regis would take talk like that as treason. Grey piled the books in the crook of his arm and straightened, drawing a spike of pain through his still-healing chest. “Tell Tobias that I got involved and impeded your investigation.”
“Except you’ve helped. Besides, I’m pretty sure Tobias won’t believe me if I said you got in the way.” The worry in her eyes twisted the mix of need and fear — along with the physical throb of his injuries — in Grey’s chest.
Mother, he was looking at her again. He hadn’t realized he’d turned back to her. He forced his attention away again and shoved the books back onto the shelf. “Regis will believe it. That’s all you really need.”
A hint of gold numbering caught his eye from beside the heavy tome that had toppled over and created the mess on the floor.
“I just— I don’t want to go back with nothing,” she said, her voice mixed with…? He wasn’t sure. Determination? Fear? Something else. She was hiding something — of course, so was he, so he couldn’t really judge — but he couldn’t help wondering if she was staying because she needed more information about the memory she’d gotten from his clothes. Without a doubt she’d become one of Regis’s favorites if she revealed the truth about Nero harboring human mages. It was a good plan. Show a hint of fear about Regis to a known enemy to the crown, win Grey’s sympathy, then learn one of his many secrets, and cash in.
Except he wasn’t sure that was what she was hiding and he couldn’t focus on the problem, in part because of her but also because the gold numbering staring back at him was the number 1477. That was the number of the journal the Handmaiden had asked him to read before she’d left Court.
“What are you looking at?” She brushed his sleeve, making him jump. He hadn’t noticed her stepping so close, and now all he could think about was holding her again.
Jeez. Focus. The journal’s spine popped into sharp detail, every scuff on the leather and the cracks in the gold leaf numbers crisp. “It’s one of the Handmaiden’s journals.”
“We’re surrounded by her books. Some of them are probably journals.”
He scanned the shelf. No other spines with gold numbers. “But there aren’t any other journals here.”
“Maybe it’s been misplaced?”
“No. It’s still in my suite at Court.”
“A copy, then?”
“It has to be a copy.” He tried to draw into his mind the image of the spine of the journal hidden in the safe in his wardrobe at Court, but couldn’t. The spine in front of him shuddered, as if he was looking at it through water, then jerked rigid, too bright and too crisp. Shit. When his inability to forget was actually useful, he found himself standing beside the one drake whose magic made him forget. “I’m sure it can’t be the original.”
But without being able to compare the spines, he wouldn’t know for sure, and he wasn’t going to reveal to Ivy how she affected him. She could use that against him. And really, for all he knew, the Handmaiden had put a spell on the book and it had materialized here for him to notice. Original or copy, that wasn’t what mattered.
“So why would this be shelved here?”
“Because she needs me to see it.” He glanced at the podium and the dates on the page of the open book. The Handmaiden had to have been casting an auger spell and she had to have known that a possible future would put the secret of the coin pieces and the rebirth spell in jeopardy.
With the auger spell, she wouldn’t know for sure that Jet would tear out that page, but she would have known it was a possibility. Putting this journal here and asking Grey to reread it had to have been in anticipation of this possibility. “There was always a rumor that she cast an auger spell.”
“I’m guessing we’ve just proved it isn’t a rumor?”
“And she set this journal here to protect against a possible future.” The Handmaiden had also said, the last time he’d seen her and she’d asked him to reread the book, that it would be important. Thankfully, that had happened only a few weeks ago and he didn’t need his magic to remember it.
“Which means you know what’s on the page Jet has.”
Except he didn’t. There wasn’t anything in that book that mentioned pieces of a coin that, once placed inside the medallion, gave someone full control of the rebirth spell. Even without his earth magic memory, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t forget a detail like that
. “I’m not sure it’s that simple. These journals were kept in her inner chamber at Court, and today has already proven that chamber wasn’t safe.”
“But if she’s been regularly casting an auger spell, she’d have known that.” Ivy frowned. “If I’d known that, I would have put whatever I needed you to know in some kind of code.”
That was his guess, as well.
“If the book was intended for you, she would have given you the key to the code.” Ivy pursed her lips. “Is the number on the spine, 1477, significant?”
“It’s the year the journal deals with.” Except that wasn’t the whole truth. All throughout her journals, there were additions peppered through the pages from times before and times after the year indicated on the spines.
“Your eyes just widened.” Ivy straightened and leaned closer. “What?”
“There’s an entry at the back of this book.” He opened the journal and flipped to the last page. The entry wasn’t very long, but he remembered thinking every time he read it — all four times — that it was odd.
Ivy sighed and pointed to the open page. “I can’t read that, either.”
“It’s written in old Greek. This is an entry about seeing the opening night of a play written by William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing. She said she really enjoys how he plays with words, particularly the joke said by Isabella about one of the characters being ‘civil as an orange.’”
Her frown deepened. “I’m not familiar with that play.”
Thankfully he was, and thank the Mother he’d reread this journal entry only a few weeks ago and didn’t need his earth magic to remember why it was so strange. “The play on words is that Isabella is saying the character is bitter. ‘Civil’ is pronounced with the emphasis on the ‘vil’, so ci-VIL, like the city, Seville in Spain, a place where you get bitter oranges.”
“That’s an awfully vague clue. Does that mean we’re going to Seville? Where?”
“Actually it’s not so vague. This journal is for the year 1477 but Much Ado About Nothing was written in late 1598 or so. As well, that line wasn’t said by Isabella. It was said by Beatrix.” He shifted a step back from Ivy. The room’s clarity faded a bit and a hint of his memory tickled at the back of his mind, offering him certainty with his details. “Queen Isabella of Spain was in Seville in 1477 when she was convinced to create the Spanish Inquisition.” A hint of fog curled at the edge of his vision and even this close to Ivy, a flicker of sunlight on water flashed in his eyes.
Ivy brushed her locket and frowned. “I’ve heard that wasn’t a great time for dragons.”
“It wasn’t.” He fought to keep back a shudder. “But if that’s the clue, then I know where Jet is going. She’s going to the ekas in the old Jewish quarter. That underground dragon meeting place became a safe haven for us during the Inquisition.”
She sighed and squared her shoulders. “I should tell Tobias.”
She should, but he couldn’t let her and risk her revealing Nero’s coterie. “Or you could come with me.”
“We’ve already learned I’m pretty useless in a fight. I won’t be able to help if we run into Jet.” But she didn’t sound as if she wanted to report in.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to disable her phone after all. If she’d discovered her phone was broken, she’d be on to him, and the longer he kept his intentions secret, the better. “But if we don’t find Jet at the ekas, you’re our best bet at figuring out what she did.”
“She does have a head start on us.” Ivy flashed a hint of teeth, and the churning need within Grey warmed.
Oh, this was bad. “So what are we waiting for?” Very, very bad.
CHAPTER 15
Ivy followed Grey — who still moved as if in agony — back to the stairs leading up to the second-floor balcony. Her mind whirled, and the knot in her gut clenched tight and radiated from her stomach across her chest. Someone was after a magic coin that could give a dragon other than the Handmaiden the power to rebirth any drake they wanted.
No. Not just give any dragon the power. Regis.
Shivers raced over her. If she told Tobias what Jet was after, he’d tell Regis, and Regis would stop at nothing to get it.
Mother, she was supposed to report to Regis in person. If she lied to him and got caught, she had no idea what he’d do.
Her teeth chattered, and she clenched her jaw.
She couldn’t trust Regis, but she also didn’t know if she could trust Tobias or Ophelia. She didn’t even know if she could trust Grey — no matter how much she yearned to have his memories fill her again, even just have his memory fire brushing her skin.
With a grunt, he bent and grabbed Jet’s gun from where Ivy had dropped it when she’d been about to fall off the balcony. He handed it to her then climbed the stairs — his pace steady but his movements tight — and strode past the pool of his blood, a flicker in the memory fire around him the only indication of an emotion at seeing it. “We’re going to need to replace my bloody coat when we get to Seville. It might be—” He frowned and headed into the antechamber. “I think it’s close to nine at night there, but if it’s like other modern human cities, most streets are pretty well lit. We can’t afford to get stopped before reaching the ekas.”
“Why not just gate to the ekas?” She looked for a place to put the gun that would be easier to get to than inside her purse, but the weapon didn’t fit in her jeans pockets and she wasn’t going to cram it in the waistband of her pants. That seemed dangerous.
“All ekases, like all temples to the Mother and all places important to the Handmaiden, have a gatelock on them.” He opened the outside door and a blast of cold air slammed into Ivy.
Grey gasped and tugged his coat tighter around him. His gaze dropped to the snowy ground just beyond the door. Three sets of footprints headed to the door and one headed away.
“Those weren’t there before,” Ivy said. “I mean the third set heading in.” The set heading out was obviously made by Jet when she’d fled.
“Looks like Jet’s camouflage magic now extends to covering up her tracks.” Grey started to crouch, gasped, and straightened instead of finishing the move down. “There are a few other drakes who can use their personal camouflage earth magic to effect their environment, as well.”
“That explains why it didn’t look like the door had been opened when I got here.”
The fire around Grey — a fire that still should have only been radiating from things he wore, like a chain or a watch, but which somehow completely covered him — flickered again, drawing Ivy closer, taunting her to hiss her power word and read whatever he was remembering. The memory from before, the one she’d accidently latched onto, swept into her mind’s eye. Pain and horror surged through her, but she didn’t force it away. Somehow, even this remembered terror soothed the constant ache within her and made her feel complete.
She’d never experienced anything like it before. He had to be wearing something from the time of that memory. It was the only way to explain how she could be seeing it. And yet a part of her knew he wasn’t. His clothes, his shoes, his watch, all had other memories imprinted in them. But this memory — and the promising flicker of others — were all him. Maybe because his magic made every memory sharp as if it had just happened. Maybe because there was something about this drake that drew her, something more than just the seductive strength of his memory fire.
The urge to activate her magic grew stronger.
Just say it. Just one little word.
But he’d know and would refuse to honor their agreement. She couldn’t afford to lose the favor he owed her. That was more valuable than easing the ache within her or feeling powerful. Freedom was more important. If she was free, safe from Regis, she could rebuild her hoard of items imprinted with loving, joyous memories. She might still wake not knowing who she was, but that initial fear would disappear when she said her power word. It wouldn’t magnify.
She forced herself back a step, praying even a few feet more betw
een them would help her stay in control. But the fire around him danced, cajoling her, making her insides squirm.
Think about something else. Anything else.
The muscles in his jaw clenched and he strode across the ice garden toward the passage leading to the gate anchor on the other side. The wind whipped the strands of shoulder-length blond hair that had broken free of the ponytail at the nape of his neck, and with the scruff of an almost-beard and his broad muscular shoulders straining the fabric of his coat, he looked fierce, like a drake coiled tight within his human warrior.
The urge within her warmed to a desire. It had to be her craving to be as strong and ferocious as him. Not the weak hatchling that she was. Certainly not trapped and broken.
But in the heart of her soul, she knew that wasn’t the full truth. There was something about Grey that called to something within her. Perhaps it was that they were opposite sides of the same coin. He remembered everything and she remembered nothing. Perhaps it was something more feral than that, something locked deep within her dragon spirit.
The heat sank lower, sliding past the knot in her gut, and realization flashed hot through her, burning over her cheeks and down her neck.
She was attracted to him. And not just to his memory fire.
That had never happened before. At least there wasn’t anything in her locket about taking a lover. She met very few drakes while hiding in her suite at Court, and being intimate with anyone — even if it was just a deep friendship — was problematic. Her uncertain relationship with Ophelia was proof of that. Sleeping with someone was… was…
She couldn’t even wrap her mind around how difficult it would be.
Her pulse pounded faster. Mother of All, he was… was—
“So the gate,” she said, jumping to the first thing she could think of that didn’t involve fantasizing about something she couldn’t— shouldn’t have, and certainly not with one of Regis’s enemies. Not to mention, what if she really was confusing attraction with her desire to read his memories? She’d never encountered anyone like him before. She could easily be mistaking the need to ease the ache in her soul with attraction. And yet—