Fate of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

  Breathless, his eyes a bit glossed over from our, uh, conversation, Drew draws a dagger from a hidden sheath around his waist and peeks through the slits in the wall.

  I do the same, only to find Jace staring at our hiding place. Arms crossed, his eyes dart over the wall, still searching for whomever he thinks is hiding here. His expression is stoic. Certain.

  Angry.

  Around him, his soldiers begin to file out of the arena, some of them looking back warily as they follow Jace’s gaze.

  He knows that someone’s here—and I would rather he didn’t find out it’s me. Not because of Drew, but more so because I’m really not supposed to be here.

  “Captain Buzzkill indeed,” Drew says, sheathing the dagger. “Let’s get going.”

  He sighs and nods toward the dark hallway, our moment shattered, and part of me feels a bit grateful for the interruption.

  Drew has a way of snaring me and drawing me in—so much so that I always seem to forget how little I know about him.

  Jace’s comment from earlier today rings in my ear.

  You don’t know who he is, Rory. Not really. The man you’ve seen here—the things he’s done for you—it’s not real. You can’t trust this guy.

  It’s hard to tell which of them has more to lose—and which one I can trust. They’re both growing on me, but I haven’t let my guard down with either. Not really.

  My magic craves Drew just as much as it craves Jace. There’s no question there. But until I know for sure what Drew wants with me, I have to be careful—and stay the hell away from that intoxicating mouth of his.

  Chapter Nine

  At noon the next day, I sit in Jace’s private war room with my heels propped on the table. The last time I was in here, he finally told me the truth about the mate-bond.

  Maybe today, I’ll get even more information out of him.

  There’s six days left to save Irena, and we still don’t have a plan. I need something to go on.

  Tucker sits next to me, while Jace and Drew lean against the wall on opposite sides of the room. Both men have their arms crossed as they glare daggers at each other.

  I wish Levi could join us, but until he can shift back into his human form, I’m afraid he can’t. It’s not safe to discuss these sensitive topics outside, so I’ll have to update him later.

  He’ll forgive me for excluding him from this discussion.

  Probably.

  “I’m rescuing my sister,” I announce to the quiet room.

  All three men turn their attention toward me, watching me with varying degrees of concern.

  “What—like, right now?” Tucker lifts his eyebrow in surprise. “Should I go get my guns, or—”

  “My guns,” Jace corrects with a quick glower at Tucker.

  “Well you stole mine, so—”

  “Confiscated,” Jace interjects, frowning.

  “We leave in a few days.” I shake my head, interrupting their little spat before they can get too deep into it. “Whoever this guy is, he’s smart and he knows enough about me to guess what I’ll do. He expects me to come to him as soon as possible so that I still have time to find her an antidote. He’s trying to make me rush so that I make a mistake.”

  “Let’s recap what we know,” Drew says, taking control of the conversation.

  I tilt my head toward him in mild frustration, not altogether appreciating the interruption.

  This isn’t his mission. I’m just letting him come.

  “This guy’s a psychopath,” Tucker says with a shrug. “He likes blowing up laptops.”

  “And he likes theatrical gestures,” I add, my mind wandering back over the dining table in the meadow.

  “He has Irena and the antidote,” Jace says, staring out the window briefly. “But he won’t tell you what they injected her with or if the antidote is even real.”

  I pinch the brim of my nose, reluctant to add the next tidbit. “And, because she’s fading, they can’t dangle her as bait for much longer. Once they have me, they’ll either kill her or give her the antidote to use her as leverage against me.” I sigh. “To make sure I behave.”

  “That won’t happen,” Jace says quietly. Calmly. Firmly.

  I look up to find him watching me, those intense gray eyes unwavering as they drive the point home.

  “Thank you,” I say softly.

  Given everything I have to deal with right now, his vote of confidence is surprisingly comforting.

  “I believe I’ve found a room for her,” he continues, putting his hands in his pockets as he stands and begins to absently pace his side of the room. “I’ve called in quite a few favors, and I found someone who will keep quiet.”

  “You’re sure?” Drew asks doubtfully.

  Jace shoots him a brief and deeply annoyed look, but eventually just nods. “I saved his daughter’s life on a mission four years ago. I told him it was my job, but he refused to take that as an answer. By his own admission, he has owed me a life debt for a long time, and he’s ready to pay his dues.”

  “Who is he?” I ask, wary.

  “A doctor.” Jace lifts his chin, radiating confidence and authority. “An old soldier from my military days. I’ve fought beside him. He’s a good man, and I’ve made it clear he won’t get to know the details of his patient’s life. He won’t know her name or her connection to you. You can trust him, Rory,” Jace adds softly, catching my eye.

  I frown, reluctant to trust a stranger, but I have very few options at the moment. At a minimum, Jace’s confidence in this guy at least makes me feel better about it.

  Kinda.

  “I’ve looked into the coordinates the man on the phone gave you,” Drew interjects. “It’s an old armed forces base built into a mountain, one the Vaer commandeered a while back. It has very few entry points and some of the fiercest security I’ve ever seen.” He groans and rubs his eyes. “It’s going to be a beast to break into this place, much less get out with an unconscious woman in tow.”

  “Sounds like a fun challenge,” I say absently, my mind already racing with ideas. “Can you get me floor plans?”

  “Some,” Drew says with a shrug. “I have a lead who might be able to do that, but it’s risky. There’s a lot at stake if he fails.”

  I catch the fire dragon’s eye. “Take the risk.”

  “So domineering,” he says, quirking one eyebrow. The corner of his mouth curves slightly, almost imperceptibly, at my audacity to order him around.

  It’s a give and take. Neither of us is fully in control around the other.

  “So, we have no plan,” Jace says, frowning. “And we need to gather more information before we can even begin to build one.”

  “Well it sounds kind of depressing when you put it that way,” Tucker says with a slight pout.

  Jace ignores the weapons expert sitting next to me and pauses, rubbing his jaw as he turns his attention to me. It seems like he’s wrestling with something he wants to say, and he isn’t sure if it will start another fight.

  It probably will.

  He really shouldn’t say it.

  “Rory,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “I will help you and your sister—on one condition.”

  I groan. This is going to piss me off. I can already tell.

  “How about you do it because you want to do something nice for me?” I lean back in my chair, eyes narrowed as I try to point out the thin ice he’s walking on right now.

  I don’t expect him to do things for me. If he doesn’t want to help, I’ll figure it out on my own—but everything he’s said in this room so far suddenly feels very deliberate. Orchestrated.

  The promises to help.

  The assurance that we can save Irena—together.

  He’s trying to make me feel dependent on him for this mission to succeed, and that is a mistake.

  For him.

  He might be the Grand Master of the Fairfax family, and he might command one of the greatest armies on the planet, but that does not mean he own
s me in any sense of the word.

  “Of course I want to take care of you,” he says softly. Almost tenderly. “That’s what makes this hard to say.”

  Beside me, Tucker shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and I notice as he leans possessively closer to me.

  Jace, however, does not notice.

  The master of this embassy is focused on me, his intense expression almost tortured. “If you want my help, you are forbidden to leave the dojo.”

  His gaze shifts subtly, the lines of his face hardening, the taunt line of his mouth tilting slightly downward as he gives me an ultimatum.

  “What?” I ask, almost breathless with shock.

  The nerve.

  “You cannot leave this dojo,” he repeats, crossing his arms defiantly. “Not until we have a plan—and not until you’ve progressed at least a little with your magic. I alone will decide when you’ve reached that level.”

  Oh, hell no.

  “Excuse me?” I raise an eyebrow in disbelief at his audacity. “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done, Jace. The roof over my head, the food, the protection, but don’t you think for one second that you control me.”

  “You came here to train,” he points out. “That makes me your mentor. And if you want to train with me, you need to do what I say.”

  The word mentor triggers deep rage.

  It reminds me of Zurie. Of the Spectres. Of a life in the shadows. Of the chains of obedience.

  But most of all, it sparks a deep concern that I might just fall into serving another mentor and lose the freedom I clawed out of a literal hole to claim.

  The thought is like cold water, and I get tunnel vision as I glare at the man before me, at the thunderbird who has repeatedly implied he wants to lock me away, to keep me safe, to hoard me like a treasure.

  For once, I can override the way my body craves him. Right now, it doesn’t matter that I feel a deep-set and almost overwhelming need any time he’s near.

  He has officially gone too far.

  “It’s clear you don’t want to help me,” I say coldly. Dispassionately.

  That, of all things—the icy cold tone—shakes his resilience.

  “I do,” he says, a whisper of worry starting to show on his face.

  If I weren’t so livid, I might be astonished that I could crack his stubborn mask with nothing more than a glare, but he’s out of line.

  “Doesn’t seem like it.” My voice is cold, and it eerily reminds me of the tone Zurie uses when she’s angry.

  I shove the thought aside. My problem right now is standing right in front of me, and I need to nip this in the bud.

  He sets his hands on his hips and watches me, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Rory, listen. Today, you crushed a phone with your bare hands.”

  “Hand,” Tucker interjects. “Singular.”

  Briefly, Jace squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s trying to tune out an annoying sound. He continues without addressing Tucker. “The metal and glass didn’t cut you. From the looks of it, the movement was instinctive and effortless.” He crosses his arms defiantly. “Am I wrong?”

  “Get to the point,” I say, my voice dark and dangerous.

  But this is Jace. He’s not going to back down—not from me, not from anyone or anything.

  Ever.

  “My point,” he says with an aggravated tone, “is that your magic is growing stronger. Your abilities are increasing. Your magic is testing the limits of what it can do, and that can be catastrophic if not properly controlled. This is what we see with thunderbirds as they come into their magic and as their dragon begins to grow and develop with them—but never to this level.”

  That disarms me a bit—the idea of a dragon growing within a young shifter, and the idea that perhaps there’s one growing in me.

  That my magic is more than just raw power—it’s a majestic creature, one that might even allow me to shift.

  To fly.

  That eases my rage momentarily. “Could I really shift?”

  “Maybe.” A short-lived smile breaks through his stoic expression at the subtle excitement in my voice. “But honestly, I have no idea. No one expected the dragon vessel to be human. We have no idea if this will give you a dragon, or if you just possess the magic of one in human form. It takes years for a dragon to grow within a shifter, Rory—if yours comes at all, it may be ages before we see it.”

  Bummer.

  I frown and lean back in my chair, disappointed. Briefly, I close my eyes and reach deep, looking for the light within.

  It’s there.

  Faint. Distant. Soft.

  But still, it’s there.

  Don’t make me wait too long, I say to it.

  Patience has never really been my thing.

  It grows slightly, just a little stronger, just a little brighter, and I feel energy buzz through my fingers.

  I smirk. Apparently, it’s none too patient, either. But right now, it’s growing. It’s weak, relatively speaking, and I need to protect it.

  “Let me train you—for real,” Jace says, his voice shattering my focus.

  As I lose the connection with the magic inside me, I look up to find him studying my face. I scoff. “What have we been doing, then?”

  “Tests.” He shrugs. “Check-ins, if you will, to see what you can do. It’s time for the real training, the lessons I put my elite soldiers through.” He looks me over briefly. “It’s brutal. It will take all of your focus and energy.”

  I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “It will distract me, you mean.”

  He leans against the wall and refuses to answer. Instead, he just looks me over with that stony and unreadable expression of his.

  “Fine. After we get Irena.” I stand, the legs of my chair grating along the floor as it’s nearly knocked over. “I have to find her, and I’m not going to let her die just so I can go to magic school.”

  “She won’t die,” Jace says with utter confidence. “I’ll handle the preparations. This will be an official embassy mission, funded and run by my best team. You won’t have to worry about a thing, and you will be allowed to join us—provided you can control your magic well enough. Which, again, will be at my discretion.” He arches his back, tall and imposing. “Those are my terms—take them or leave them.”

  The ultimatum is delivered in such an offhand way, so flippantly and careless, but the rest of us know what he’s really trying to do. The manipulation, the tyrannical oversight of a mission that’s not even his to run—it sets us all off, igniting a bubbling crock pot of fury.

  Tucker, Drew, and I end up talking over each other in our mutual disgust.

  “Whoa!” Tucker shouts. “Who the hell are you to—”

  “—utterly unreasonable ass—” I hear Drew say.

  I, however, am seething, and the cold fury is back with a vengeance. “Don’t you dare—”

  “Look,” Jace interjects, completely unapologetic. “Thunderbird magic is raw and unmanageable at this stage. Young thunderbirds have killed their parents, burned down their houses, destroyed entire buildings, even towns—on accident. If you reach your sister and have an episode, could you live with yourself for killing her?”

  “That’s low,” Drew practically growls. “She has demonstrated far more control than you’re giving her credit for, and I see right through you.”

  “Shut it,” Jace commands, scowling at the fire dragon.

  But Drew won’t be silenced.

  He slams his fist on the table, shaking it. “You’re fear-mongering so you can lock her away and keep her under observation, like all you mated pairs do.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust, and I sit a little straighter at the little tidbit of information he just unwittingly shared.

  This—the way Jace treats me—is normal for mated thunderbirds.

  Locking away the mate. Keeping her safe. Hiding her from the world.

  My nails dig into the wood table as I catch Jace’s attention, and he clears his throat. It’s a quiet sound, an uncomfortable one,
but it’s the admission of guilt I need.

  He will probably never clear me to join them.

  Jace would insist I stay behind while they rescued my sister. He would insist I live my life behind closed doors, never going out, never living a full life for fear I might die.

  Deep within me, my magic crackles in the surging heat of my wrath.

  “Treat her with the goddamn respect she deserves!” Drew gestures to me, furious and fuming as he yells at Jace. “She’s a powerful woman, not some seven-year-old shifter who hasn’t grown her wings yet!”

  “Her magic might as well be.” The dojo master glares daggers at Drew. “Her magic is deadly. It tore a hole in the mountain. It ripped open a roof with virtually no effort at all. It’s killed people.”

  I scoff. “How would you know—”

  The dojo master shifts his attention toward me briefly. “Everyone knows about the incident at that human school, Rory.”

  I snap my mouth shut and look away, not proud of losing control like I did then.

  But this is different.

  I’m different. More powerful. More in control. Not perfect, no, but far better than I was back then.

  And it’s as if he doesn’t even see that.

  Jace glares at Drew once more. “The answer is no. She can barely control it, and often it controls her.”

  “We’re done.” I make my way toward the door. “I never should have asked for your help. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  As I pass him, Jace grabs my wrist. It’s a sudden motion, lightning fast, and it pisses off the fighter in me. I twist my arm and slip out of his grip, but he counters instantly, grabbing my other hand. In one, fluid motion, he pins me to the wall.

  His grip is strong, but not painful—firm and controlling, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to hurt me.

  Too bad, because I kind of want to hurt him.

  “Get your hands off of her,” Drew demands, his boots thundering over the hardwood floor as he nears.

  Jace shoots him one glare over his shoulder. “If you so much as touch either of us, I will consider it an attack on the master of the dojo and finally be able to throw your ass out.”