by C. I. Black
“I can convince her to stay.” He had to, and not just because it protected her life.
CHAPTER 20
Ivy followed the silver drake with the brilliant white aura out of the room with the broken windows and down a hall, to an office with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering every space of wall that wasn’t window. A heavy wooden desk and leather office chair sat at the back, facing two low-backed brown leather chairs. Folders and papers were stacked neatly in a tray beside a cup with pens and a closed laptop computer. If the shelves hadn’t been so neat — and the desk so big — the room would have reminded her of Tobias’s office.
But that hint of a similarity just made her heart pound faster.
She’d shot the prince’s assassin.
If she hadn’t wanted to go back before, now she had no choice. It didn’t matter if she could trust Tobias and Ophelia or not. She couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t go back.
The silver drake pointed to one of the chairs. Her expression was soft, her eyes sad, but she also held herself with the ferocity of a mature dragon, not a hatchling like some of the other dragons back in that living room. Except Ivy couldn’t figure out how old this silver drake was. Her aura said ancient and powerful, but she only had a hint of memory fire dancing around her. The halls and room around them had more memory fire than her. If she was as old as Grey, she should have had a similar degree of memory fire as Grey, certainly at least as much as Tobias or Regis, on something she was wearing… unless, of course, this drake liked to wear new things—although Ivy had yet to run into someone who didn’t have something, a necklace, ring, or watch, they’d been holding onto for a while.
“Can I get you anything?” the silver drake asked.
The black drake who radiated waves of predatory danger snorted. Grey had called him Diablo. “She’s meeting the doyen, not here for tea.”
The silver drake’s aura flared and a hint of magic wind gusted through the room.
“Anaea is just being polite,” Grey said as Diablo and another man moved to help him to the other low-backed chair. Grey’s expression tightened and he didn’t sit. “I’d rather not bleed all over the upholstery.”
The other drake who’d been helping him, a young blue drake according to his aura who Anaea had called Ryan, grabbed a plain wooden chair by the door and set it beside Ivy.
The black drake, Diablo, sagged into the low-backed chair instead, one leg hanging over the arm until the silver drake, Anaea, glared at him. Then he got up and sauntered to the back of the room.
Ivy tightened her grip on the gun. Yes, Diablo was right. It wouldn’t stop them, but it made her feel safer, made her feel like she could protect Grey in his injured state. It didn’t matter that he’d said these dragons were friends. She needed him. He was her ticket out of Court… although it had sounded like these dragons didn’t want her to return, either.
Air whooshed in the hall and an ancient black drake with memory fire blazing from the rings on his hands and cufflinks on his shirt — like the flames Anaea should have had — strode into the room. His gaze landed on Ivy and his eyes narrowed.
A growl bubbled in the back of her throat, and she fought the urge to bare her teeth. If this was doyen Nero, submission was better than aggression. He ruled his coterie because he was stronger and more powerful than any other member.
She brushed her locket, drawing out what she knew about doyens and coteries. Only bits and pieces. Dragon political life was complicated and she hadn’t wanted to bog herself down with too much information that changed too quickly.
Nero’s attention jumped to Grey, and a dangerous fury boiled in his eyes and tightened his jaw.
Her pulse picked up. Grey had disobeyed his doyen by bringing her here — that much was clear in that black drake’s initial reaction to their arrival — Grey was in danger and too injured to defend himself, and God-damn it, she wasn’t going to let some selfish doyen take his displeasure out on Grey, not when Grey was trying to stop whoever Jet worked for — most likely Regis — from getting control of the rebirth spell.
The growl she’d been holding back broke through her restraint, and she straightened in the chair, ready to fight. To hell with the fact that she couldn’t fight. She was tired of being weak and helpless, and she’d God damned shot the prince’s assassin. She couldn’t afford to be anything but a confident dragon.
Nero cocked a dark eyebrow and Anaea shifted, her aura fluttering, but Ivy couldn’t tell with what magic. Diablo crossed his arms, leaned against the bookshelf beside Anaea, and snorted.
“It’s been a shitty day,” Grey said, his tone exhausted and tight with pain. “This is the agent Tobias assigned to the ransacking of the Handmaiden’s chambers. Ivy.”
“One of Tobias’s agents shot Regis’s new assassin?” Diablo’s eyebrows raised, looking, for a second, as if he was impressed.
“He was endangering the mission,” Ivy said, with more growl than she’d intended.
“Which would suggest Regis doesn’t know anything about Jet.” Grey shifted but didn’t look more comfortable.
The ice knotted in Ivy’s gut tightened. “Unless Bolo was sent to stop you so Jet could get the key.” That would confirm Regis was Jet’s employer.
Nero cleared his throat. “I think you need to catch me up.”
“To make a long story short, someone hired Jet to go after a coin that, once it’s inserted into the hole in the medallion, completes the rebirth spell.” Grey met Nero’s gaze head on which, according to everything Ivy knew, should have enraged the doyen, but didn’t. “It takes the Handmaiden out of the equation. Whoever controls this completed medallion controls Court.”
“They’d have to get their hands on the medallion first,” Diablo said.
“I know most of them are lost.” The blue drake, Ryan, frowned. “But isn’t there one in the arena at Court?”
“It would take some serious magic to get to it,” Grey said, “but I wouldn’t put it past whoever is after it. They had a lockpicking spell to break the magical locks on the doors to the Handmaiden’s chambers at Court—”
“And they knew about the Handmaiden’s secret residence.” Nero sat on the edge of his desk.
“It sounds like you also might have proof that Regis is involved,” Anaea said.
“Or not proof,” Grey said. “Bolo didn’t seem to know anything about Jet.”
“Jeez, Grey. Are you telling me a hatchling like Bolo is responsible for your back?” Diablo asked.
“No, that was a grenade,” Grey said. “From Jet, after she stabbed me a couple of times.”
“And shot you in the chest.” The knot in Ivy’s gut tightened even more.
“She shot you?” Anaea’s aura flared again, her fury manifesting in a burst of wind.
Another growl rumbled in Ivy’s throat, and she fought the urge to tell this strange drake to back the hell off. Grey was hers—
Hers!
Her heart stuttered.
Hers to use.
That was what she’d meant. She needed him. He’d promised her a favor and she was going to cash in. She was going to use him to get away from Regis and Court and everything dragon that wanted to keep her a prisoner and use her.
That was all.
“The gunshot is almost fully healed.” A piece of shrapnel oozed out of Grey’s back, clattered against the chair, and plopped onto the rug beneath him. “And my body is close to expelling all the shrapnel. I’ll heal.”
“Really fucking slowly,” Diablo said.
“Still healing.” Grey glared at Diablo.
“You want me to set up a fan to help your soul magic along?”
“Ha ha. My healing isn’t the problem.”
Diablo snorted. “I would beg to differ on that one.”
“This coin is,” Nero said.
“The good thing is that the Handmaiden broke it into two pieces and hid them.” Another piece of shrapnel plopped onto the floor. “The bad—”
“Let me g
uess.” Diablo jerked away from the wall. “Jet knows where those pieces are.”
“And the prize goes to the brooding drake in the corner,” Grey said.
Diablo flashed his teeth at him. “Fuck you.”
“Get in line.”
“Back on topic,” Nero growled.
“Well, I… overheard her—” Ivy glanced at Grey, but he didn’t open his mouth to correct her and reveal her earth magic. “It was before she gated away. She was talking on the phone with someone, saying she was going after the easy one first and would have it in seven hours.”
Nero drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Any idea what that means?”
Grey pursed his lips and his gaze locked on Ivy’s, his expression sad and pained and… and she didn’t know what. She’d never seen emotion like that on anyone before — at least not that she could, in her limited memory, remember.
“If Ivy steps into the hall, I’ll be able to tell you.”
The knot in her gut snapped, freezing into her chest. “If I what?”
Diablo snorted and Anaea frowned.
“You want me to leave?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around that. Sure, he hadn’t explicitly said they were in this together, but she’d thought she’d proven herself useful. Certainly useful enough to be kept around. If he thought she couldn’t help any more, he’d send her back to Court and that couldn’t happen.
“Remember my earth magic?” he asked.
Diablo’s eyes narrowed. “You have an earth magic other than free gating?”
“Yes,” Ivy said. “You remember everything.”
Grey’s gaze locked on his hands. He squeezed them and another piece of shrapnel oozed out of his back. “You seem to be the antithesis to my ability.”
That shrapnel hit the chair, the sound somehow too loud in the sudden stillness. No one moved. It felt as if time stood still.
He had confessed his magic in front of these drakes. He was either desperate or he trusted them. He—
“Wait, I affect your magic?”
Ryan shot Anaea a strange look. Ivy had no idea what it meant, and Anaea gave a tight nod.
“Yeah. I’d rather you not share that with anyone. Not even Tobias.”
“You have my word.” Since she wasn’t going to see Tobias again. Yes, she’d call in and report when it was getting close to ten that evening, but she wasn’t going anywhere near him where he could apprehend her, and she certainly wasn’t going anywhere near Ophelia who could read her thoughts. “The priority is this coin. Tobias will understand that.” At least she hoped so.
“Tobias will,” Nero said, but his expression darkened as if there was more to the situation and it didn’t make him happy.
And he was going to be even more unhappy when he learned the truth about what she planned.
“I can’t believe you’ve had an earth magic all this time and no one knew about it,” Diablo said.
“It’s not really useful in a fight.” Grey shrugged and winced. “Ivy, if you could step out the door, I’ll remember what was on that tapestry and figure out what Jet knows.”
“Sure.” She glanced at the door, but didn’t want to leave. It was ridiculous. There wasn’t anything they could say or do while she was out of the room that she couldn’t learn about. All she had to do was peek at the most recent memories in the room or on Grey’s clothes. He knew that, so he couldn’t be trying to exclude her. There wouldn’t be any point.
Anaea stepped toward the door. “How far do we need to go?”
“The next door down will do.” Grey’s pale gaze, filled with apology and that strange emotion Ivy didn’t recognize, locked onto her. “I just need a couple of minutes.”
“Sure.” She followed Anaea into the hall and down to the next doorway, and the silver drake pounced.
Anaea seized Ivy’s arm, jerked her to face her, and shoved her against the wall while a magical wind swept around Ivy and pinned her in place. “I want to make this clear in terms you understand.”
Ivy wrenched against the wind and hissed back, baring her teeth.
“Grey is family,” Anaea growled, “and I will do whatever it takes to protect my family.”
Lucky Grey. That thought hurt. Ivy wished she had someone who’d fight for her like this, someone who cared half as much. If she was smart, she’d back off. Leave him to Anaea and his coterie and walk away, but she couldn’t. Mother of All, she just couldn’t and she feared it had nothing to do with needing him to help her escape Court.
“I’ve met scarier drakes than you,” Ivy said. Regis without a doubt, even Bolo, had more menace, but not nearly a fraction of the magical strength. She yanked herself away from the wall and Anaea’s wind slammed her back.
“You haven’t met anyone like me.” Anaea’s aura flared, a brilliant glow that burned Ivy’s eyes with a power that had been hidden before. This drake was more dangerous than Bolo or Regis. She was the embodiment of pure, raw power. “You endanger him and I promise there won’t be enough of your soul left to dissolve into the universal ether.”
Holy Mother! This drake really could destroy every last fiber of her being.
The knot in Ivy’s gut snapped, too cold, sending shivers through her, and a small voice in the back of her head screamed, Don’t show fear. Never show fear. Something she was sure she was failing at.
“I’ll leave when he tells me to,” she forced out. She didn’t want to leave at all, but knew, soul-deep, if he told her to go, she would.
That thought brought sudden, overwhelming grief. It swept over her chest and up her neck, choking her. Tears welled in her eyes and a new horrible thought filled her. Anaea had wanted to help him the moment they’d gated there, and she was threatening Ivy, demonstrating she was a more powerful drake and she would do anything to protect Grey.
“I won’t endanger your mate. I promise.” They were both ancient silver drakes. If she’d been thinking straight, she would have figured it out the moment she’d arrived. She fought to breathe, but the constriction in her throat and chest ached with a new crushing weight. What the hell was wrong with her?
“You think Grey is my mate?” Anaea asked.
“Isn’t he?”
“Grey is family.” The wind vanished, but Anaea’s aura still radiated enormous power. “You don’t want to know what I’d do to protect my inamorato.”
“I won’t endanger him, either.” She didn’t want to endanger anyone. She just wanted to be free… except a part of her also wanted to know what it felt like to have someone so ferociously dedicated to her.
She brushed her locket, but there was nothing there to indicate she’d ever had a friend like Anaea. All she had were Ophelia and Tobias and they’d proven they couldn’t be trusted. When she left Court — and she was leaving Court! — there wouldn’t even be them.
CHAPTER 21
Fog swept around Grey a few seconds after Ivy left the room, and the smell of reeking garbage clogged his nose.
Mother, he was getting tired of that memory and its constant reminder that his inability to heal quickly was a liability, not only to him but to others around him.
Metal clattered against a stone floor, and Jet’s grenade popped into sight.
His heart skipped a beat, and every muscle tensed.
Protect Ivy.
He jerked around to find her, but the memory shuddered and a hint of a green light sliced through it at the edge of his vision.
Right. A memory. Ivy was safe. She stood just down the hall.
The image of her, roaring and shooting Bolo, swept into sight. Her aura radiated strength, revealing a hint of just how powerful her soul would become when she got older. She’d been ferocious, and he’d been unable to take his eyes from her.
“Hey,” a masculine voice said.
Another flash of green, and the ekas’s wall vanished. Diablo grabbed Grey’s shoulder, wrenching him farther away from the memory of Ivy and back into Nero’s office.
Right. Remember the tapestry. The s
ooner he did, the sooner Ivy could return and keep his magic at bay.
The gloom shuddered around him, and for a second he contemplated calling her back. It had been less than an hour since he’d seen the tapestry, and even in the middle of a fight, his memory was pretty good without his magic. But he couldn’t risk missing something. He needed to remember it exactly. Any small detail could be the answer.
He drew in a breath to steady himself, but it lanced pain through his back and chest. The darkness in his sight billowed and the grenade clattered over the stone floor again.
Not what he wanted to see.
Jeez, why was it so hard to concentrate? He hadn’t had this much problem in the Handmaiden’s chambers earlier that day, and the memory fog that threatened to consume him was now stronger than before.
Just see the tapestry. He’d seen it before. It had been hanging in the ekas for centuries before the Spanish Inquisition.
Right. It was a depiction of the two great temples of the Mother.
Jet had taken a picture of that—
The image of Jet in the ekas taking a picture of the tapestry filled Grey’s vision. The light from the candles and oil lamps flickered and a smoky haze drifted in the dim illumination to the ceiling. Every chip in the floor and walls, every whorl in the wooden chairs, and every stitch in the tapestry jumped into focus. A bead of sweat trickled down Jet’s neck. She flipped the tapestry and took another picture.
A gold dragon with wings spread, about to take flight, filled the entire back. It was reminiscent of the many dragon images in the sacred rooms at Court, and at the temples to the Mother scattered throughout the human realm. There was one in each great temple, as well.
This had to be the key. The coins had to be hidden in the statues at the great temples. Both images were innocuous. Even with a sunburst flaring from the heart of the dragon on the back of the tapestry, no one would know these were clues to a hidden treasure because no one — save for apparently a very select few — knew the treasure existed.
The image of the tapestry shuddered, and the grenade clattered against stone.
It wasn’t the alley where he’d had his throat slit, but this wasn’t a better memory to keep jumping back to.
