Fate of Dragons

by Olivia Ash

He nods. “You will. The doctor will keep me informed of her progress, as well as her brain activity. We’ll know she’s coming-to long before she wakes up.”

  “But—”

  “I promise,” he says firmly.

  I grit my teeth, hands balling into fists as I force myself to look away from him. She should be kept close. She should be kept near so that I can talk to her right away.

  But, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. At least I’ll have access to her.

  “I need sleep,” Jace says, standing. “Drew, handle the blueprints, but know I’ll be checking them for authenticity before we plan anything concrete.”

  Drew shakes his head in aggravation, clearly wanting to say something, but he manages to bite his tongue.

  Thank freaking goodness.

  “I’ll handle the rest.” The Grand Master heads for the door without another word.

  “Hello,” Tucker says sarcastically, pointing to himself. “Weapons expert over here. I can—”

  “You can shut the hell up,” Jace snaps. “Rory may trust you, but I don’t. You don’t get to do shit.”

  “Jace,” I chide, my tone firm and commanding.

  “Don’t start with me,” he says, shaking his head in frustration, refusing to even look my way.

  “And I’ll, what, sit patiently?” I ask, not bothering to mask the scathing disdain in my tone. “Wait for the big bad Jace to save the day?”

  “You will train,” he corrects me. “You will master that damn magic until I’m confident it won’t obliterate my whole dojo.”

  Sure.

  And until then, he’ll use it as an excuse to keep a close eye on me.

  To keep me under watch. Under lock and key.

  I grit my teeth, biting back the scathing remarks clawing at my throat. It won’t do any good, especially not with how exhausted we all are.

  “I need to sleep.” Jace gestures toward the set of double doors that lead to the hallway, silently ordering us all out of the war room in his suite.

  That’s all the push I need.

  I leave, giving him only the barest glance as I walk into the corridor.

  He’s willing to help but only if it’s done his way. He’ll listen but interrupt shortly after asking a question.

  God, he’s so infuriating.

  When Drew, Tucker, and I stand in the hall, Jace shuts the double doors to his suite behind us without another word.

  I sigh, hands in my pockets, wondering if I can stop my racing mind long enough to sleep as well, or if I’m going to toss and turn for the rest of the day.

  Drew crosses his arms, his imposing broad shoulders blocking out a good chunk of the hallway behind him, and glares at Tucker. “If that had happened in my homelands, you would be dead.”

  “I know,” Tucker says quietly, nodding.

  “I would have done it,” Drew admits, eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t have paused long enough for her to interfere.” He nods toward me.

  “Dude, I’m right here,” I say, spreading my arms wide in case he missed the fact that I’m freaking listening to this nonsense.

  “The Knights are brutal, Rory,” Drew snaps, his gaze shifting to me. “Abuse. Torture. They would do unspeakable things, force themselves on you, or happily break you in half if that’s what it took to get what they want out of you.” His furious glare returns to Tucker. “And he’s—”

  “Not with them,” Tucker snaps, squaring his shoulders, looking for all the world like he wants to throw down with Drew in the middle of the hallway. “Why do you think I risked it all to lie? You think my Father is going to just let me go? Are you an idiot? He’ll hunt me down and kill me for treason even though I never, not once, wanted this life! I didn’t sign up for this, but do you think that matters?” Tucker snorts derisively. “Of course not. He won’t care that I’m his son. Why do you think I sacrificed everything to keep her safe?” He gestures toward me.

  “Right here,” I say again, deeply frustrated with these two.

  “I’m lucky to be alive,” Tucker continues, ignoring me. “You don’t think I realize that? I do. The fact that I’m here leaves me so damn confused—I thought for sure I was a goner.” His gaze drifts toward me, and his expression softens.

  It’s a silent show of gratitude. He’s sacrificed his rank, authority, and the life he had before, all to keep me safe. But back there in the field, I repaid him in full. I put my life and my freedom on the line.

  For him.

  And I would do it again.

  “I’ll be watching you,” Drew says, nearly growling as he glares at Tucker.

  Tucker snorts, clearly irritated. “Well, try to at least cover your eyes when I jerk off, then.”

  With impatient huffs and growls, both men turn on their heels and walk down the hallway in opposite directions. Fuming, they mutter under their breath and leave me in the corridor with my face in my hands.

  I groan in frustration.

  Men.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  To my surprise, I sleep straight through the day. When I finally sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, it’s dark again. I check the clock beside the bed—one in the morning.

  Damn. I can’t remember ever sleeping that long.

  My muscles ache as I stand and dress, my body already humming with antsy energy from laying too long in one place.

  I need to burn off some energy, and I wonder if I can get down to the secret training hall below the embassy. If I can, maybe I can train a little and use the time to clear my mind.

  Namely, to think of a plan to save Irena.

  As I dress, I notice a small envelope icon on the flip phone’s small screen. Curious, I tap a few of the keys and play the voicemail.

  “Bold move, Rory,” Ian says on the recording. “Only a couple of days left, and you ignore my call? I’m starting to think you don’t want her. And if that’s the case, I’ll just get rid of her.” He pauses, probably for effect. “There’s other ways to lure you in.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, careful not to take out my anger on the phone this time.

  “Make your choice, Rory dear,” he says curtly. “And do be quick about it, please.”

  The recording ends, and I resist the urge to throw the phone across the room.

  I’m tempted to call back, to play his game, but I force myself to wait. I can’t make a decision like that when I’m angry, and I need to burn off some steam, first.

  Briefly, I pick Tucker’s lock and check on him. He’s sprawled across his bed, snoring lightly, and it’s a relief to see him alive after yesterday’s close call. Whatever happens over the next few days will determine if he’s safe here—or if I need to find him someplace else to lay low for a while.

  Unable to stay idle for long, I quickly steal down the stairs. To my surprise, the halls are mostly empty. A few guards stand outside the command center and a few other secure locations, but that’s about it.

  With a few glances out the nearest window, I quickly realize why.

  The skies teem with dragons, each of them on alert, at least one head turned in any given direction. As I near the panes of glass, a few dragon heads even turn toward me, no doubt sensing my presence.

  I shudder. I sure hope that eerie ability of theirs starts to fade as I connect with my magic, since I would hate for dragons to sense me—even vaguely—for the rest of my life.

  The fact is, Jace has his people on high alert, and I don’t blame him. Not after what he witnessed in the forest.

  With the corridors empty, I take my chances and sneak down to the secret rooms below the dojo—primarily, to the vast training hall Drew showed me.

  It’s slow going, even in the middle of the night, and I have to duck my fair share of cameras or passing soldiers. Eventually, I find myself facing the massive double doors that lead into the cavernous training hall where Jace holds lessons for the elite soldiers in his army.

  As I near the towering entrance, I strain to hear any signs of life beyond
the doors—the grunts of late-night sparring, the shuffle of clothes, the patter of boots on the tile as someone tidies after a match.

  Nothing.

  Gently, I push against the large circular emblem of a dragon painted across both of the doors. The entrance swings open, and I peek in to find the massive hall empty.

  Good.

  The wall of weapons fills the far end of the room, covered in everything from daggers to bows and arrows. Between me and the vast arsenal, however, is Jace’s rounded platform. It rises from the floor, easily four feet high, and the whole room practically begs me to walk in.

  I step into the space, looking up at the vast ceiling with a smile. Astonishing that it can feel so open despite the fact that we’re deep underground, but I figure that’s the point. This space is big enough for at least a dozen dragons to shift and fight.

  And with more than enough space for me to train.

  I grab a six-foot bo staff from the wall of weapons and spin it in my hand, loving the way the balance shifts as it rotates in my palm. I grab it abruptly, slicing to the left, launching into a familiar Spectre form Zurie taught me long ago.

  Irena and I would run this sequence of movements every morning, slicing through the air, using the walls to launch into flips, whacking the shit out of imaginary opponents before starting our day.

  Typical sister bonding.

  As I spin the staff over my head, I step on the edge of the platform in the center of the room and flip effortlessly into the air. The world spins around me, and I land easily on my feet. The far end of the staff hits the ground hard, the snap of wood on tile cracking through the massive space.

  I pause, ear twitching as it picks up movement, and I glare at the door just as it opens.

  Drew walks through the entry, that trademark smirk on his handsome face. “You learn fast.”

  “How so?” I stand, setting the butt of the staff against the ground next to me, breathing a little heavier from the routine.

  He gestures to the training hall. “I showed you how to get here once, and yet you’re already down here training in the middle of the night.” He chuckles. “And I thought I was the only one with a knack for breaking rules.”

  “Bending the rules, if I recall.” I grin and nod to the wall of weapons. “Care to join me?”

  “Sure.” With a mischievous grin, he grabs a second staff from the row of dozens just like it. “But when I kick your ass, remember you invited me.”

  “That’s mighty big talk.” I spin the staff in my palm with practiced ease. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are, shall we?”

  The imposing dragon shifter circles me, holding his staff firmly, eyes scanning my body as he no doubt looks for a weakness to exploit.

  He won’t find one.

  I play it coy and cocky, at ease in the massive space, feeling more in my element than I have in quite a while. This place reminds me of sparring in the caverns beneath Zurie’s mountain home, of jiu-jitsu training with Irena, of having perfect precision and flawless control over every motion as I learned new routines, new attacks, new methods of killing my prey.

  None of this the magic controls me nonsense. Just effortless perfection, every time.

  Drew attacks first, and I easily block the blow. The sharp thud of our staffs hitting snaps through the massive room, and I feel the reverb shoot up my arms.

  Without my enhanced dragon strength, I probably would have had to drop the staff—it was a hell of a blow.

  But I’m stronger, now. More powerful. More confident in my ability than ever before. Sure, it might take a bit more effort to rein in my magic, but I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

  I love the newfound power I wield.

  With a teasing smirk, I look him dead in the eye. “Not bad.”

  “You’re cute when you get cocky.” He chuckles. “But what happens when you get knocked on your ass?”

  With a quick and sudden thrust, he swings his staff at my legs. Thanks to his accidental warning, I jump in time to avoid a rather painful hit. It’s a close call, though, and I clear the staff by mere centimeters, moving just fast enough to not fail.

  He follows up the blow with another and another, swinging at me with rapid-fire precision as he tries to take me down. I duck and roll, sidestepping each attack, always a hair too fast for him to hit me.

  The crack of wood hitting stone thunders through the space as he misses yet again, his staff coming down hard on the floor.

  Drew grins at me, breathing heavily, the thrill of a good fight igniting the fire in his warm brown eyes.

  I hesitate just out of reach, chest heaving from the exercise, and effortlessly spin my staff around my head. “Had enough?”

  “Hardly.”

  He launches into another attack, and this time I can’t avoid it—I have to parry. Our weapons thud against each other, but he doesn’t pause. He pushes forward, launching blow after blow, and it’s all I can do to keep up.

  He’s good.

  “You find Ian’s last name yet?” I ask, trying to distract him.

  “There are a few options,” Drew admits, swinging his staff at my thigh.

  I block the attack and dart out of the way of the next one.

  “Ian Rockwood is a Captain in their army,” Drew says, squaring me up, looking for the chance to land another blow. “Owns a few gambling dens and runs a small cartel in South America.”

  I shake my head. “Not our guy. Doesn’t have enough imagination.”

  “Fine,” Drew says, twirling the staff in his hands as he circles me. “A guy named Ian Banner brokers arms deals for the Vaer, mainly in the Middle East.”

  “Does he go on the field?” I ask, swinging the staff at Drew’s head.

  Drew ducks. “Yeah.”

  “Not our guy, then.”

  Drew watches me, skeptical. “How are you so sure?”

  “Our Ian is a cocky bastard who doesn’t like to get his hands dirty,” I say, twirling my staff as I look for an opening in Drew’s posture. “Our Ian sits in a chair and coordinates everything from the comfort of his office. From what I can tell, he doesn’t like getting dirty.”

  “Huh,” Drew raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “You got all that from talking to him?”

  I nod. “Is there anyone on your list like that?”

  “Eh.” Drew shrugs, thinking. “Maybe one.”

  “And?”

  “Ian Rixer.” Drew frowns, his eyes taking on a cold glint. “Evil bastard. I can’t get much information on him, just that he’s a Major who manages the Vaer network across the Eastern Seaboard. His daddy knows the Boss, but I’m not sure how.”

  I grin, and everything in me screams that this is him.

  That’s our guy.

  Ian Rixer.

  I can’t believe he gave me his real name.

  In my quiet moment of victory, however, Drew decides to go for the kill.

  Figuratively speaking, of course.

  With a short grunt of effort, he abruptly shifts direction, thrusting the butt of his staff up toward my face. I dodge, thrown off balance, and roll onto the ground—only to watch as he swings the staff toward my face with all his force.

  I jump backward, barely dodging the blow. His staff splinters as it hits the ground, fracturing half of the weapon virtually to dust.

  Out of breath, I stand, gaping at the shattered weapon in his hand. He lifts it lazily, bored as he examines it, as if this has happened dozens of times before in his practice sessions.

  How the hell did he get this good?

  “Who are you?” I ask again, determined to get an answer this time.

  He sighs and rubs his face, tossing the destroyed weapon aside. “I would really rather just have fun, Rory.” He grins and nods to the wall of weapons. “What else do you want to play with?”

  I chuckle. He certainly knows how the way to my heart, that’s for sure.

  In almost any other circumstance, I might let him change the subj
ect and go play—there are a set of scimitars on the fourth row that I’m itching to try out, after all.

  But the more I think about it, the more concerned I am that he might in fact be a Vaer.

  And that—well, it feels unforgiveable.

  I have to know. And since we’re quickly running out of time to save Irena, I need to know now.

  With a frown, I set one hand on my hip and tilt my head expectantly, knowing full well that my expression makes clear what I don’t want to say—this is your last chance, Drew.

  To be honest.

  To tell me the truth.

  “Fine,” he mutters, reading my expression. He reaches a hand toward me, palm up, and nods to my weapon. “Give me your staff. I’ll put it away so you can’t hit me with it if you don’t like my answer.”

  I hesitate, one eyebrow raised skeptically, but I eventually indulge him. Besides, there are loads more weapons to choose from should the need arise.

  The trick would just be to get one before he does.

  “My family gets away with whatever they desire,” he says ominously as he sets my staff back on the wall. “Anything. We are almost never held accountable when we break the law, as long as we’re clever about it. It’s made us, well—” He sighs and grabs the remnants of the staff he broke. “Overconfident, I guess you can say.”

  I cross my arms, waiting for him to stop speaking in riddles and answer my question, already.

  “Our wealth and power allows us to push boundaries,” he admits, surprisingly self-aware. “It’s something I’ve always hated, watching as the people around me constantly strive for more. More land. More money. More politicians in our pockets.” He looks at the ground and sneers. “It’s never good enough for any of them.”

  With a few powerful strides, he walks his shattered staff to a nearby trashcan and tosses it in the bin.

  So far, the things he’s describing could apply to a few of the families I know of.

  Andusk, maybe. Or perhaps the Darringtons, or even the Bane.

  And the Vaer, sure, but I silently hope I’m wrong about that one.

  Nothing he’s sharing is all that helpful, and it feels like he’s just delaying the inevitable.

  I shift my weight, trying not to sound overly eager as I attempt to piece together the few clues he’s giving me. “Is that why Jace can’t stand you?”