Hoarding Secrets (A Dragon Spirit Novel Book 3)

by C. I. Black

  Nero watched them go then turned his attention to Grey. “Don’t think this incident has made me forget that you were stupid enough to return to Court. Or that you gated here already covered in blood. Whatever Tobias called you for wasn’t worth the risk.”

  “Unfortunately this was.” Murky fog flickered around Grey, and someone screamed. No one reacted. He clenched his jaw and focused on the cold seeping into him as his adrenaline drained away. “Someone ransacked the Handmaiden’s inner chamber.”

  “Tobias gave me the heads-up,” Nero said, leading Grey and Ryan out of the living room with its shattered windows, down the hall, and into one of his classrooms — windows intact. “It’s still not worth risking my puzur if you’re captured and tortured.”

  Nero stood at the front of the room by the giant whiteboard in the teacher’s position and glared at Grey until he sat in the closest chair.

  “No one might have a coterie, let alone a secret one, if someone makes another move against Regis.” Grey sat but shifted, unable to get comfortable under Nero’s glare. “If someone makes a move with magic stolen from the Handmaiden, no one is safe.” The remembered scream came again then turned into a howling wind. Ice bit Grey’s cheeks and turned his fingers numb as if he hadn’t gone inside and now stood in the middle of a storm.

  “Do you know what they took?” Ryan asked, his voice a whisper against the remembered howling. “What were they looking for?”

  A hint of green light bled through the fog. Not Nero’s or Ryan’s aura, but that of Tobias’s agent, that woman who radiated stillness in the middle of the whirlwind that raged in his head. He grasped for it, desperate to keep himself in the room in any way possible. “I don’t know, but they took the scroll with the power words to control the lock on the Handmaiden’s private residence.” A locking magic more powerful than the locks on her chamber doors at Court.

  “I thought her chambers at Court was her residence,” Nero said.

  “Another reason this is a problem.” Grey tightened his grasp around the remembered calm and the classroom jumped into focus, revealing Ryan in the chair beside him and Nero still standing by the whiteboard. “I don’t know if that was what they were specifically looking for and ransacking the rest of the room was just a cover, or if getting the power words to the Handmaiden’s magical lock was a last resort. Either way, whoever broke in knew about her private residence and knew he needed to get the lock’s power words to get in.”

  “And if you didn’t know she had another residence—” Ryan said with a glance at Nero.

  “—that makes it a short list of people looking for something in the Handmaiden’s possession,” Grey finished.

  “But how short?” Nero asked.

  “I wish I knew. For certain Tobias, Regis, and Constantine knew about her residence. She’s had two servants before me, Bahiti and Servius, who are both still alive and they’d know, but they’ve known about it for centuries. Why make a move now? I also told Anaea to tell Hunter about the residence a few days ago so he could look for her there. So he knows.” But if Nero, Regis’s favorite doyen, didn’t know about the Handmaiden’s private residence, Grey could only guess at who else might be on the list. And it gave more weight to Tobias’s fear that somehow Regis was behind this and acting in secret so drakes didn’t riot when they learned he was stealing from the Handmaiden. Of course, it didn’t prove anything, either.

  “Tobias wouldn’t have called you in if he was behind it,” Nero said.

  Ryan frowned. “Unless he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s responsible.”

  “No, this isn’t Tobias’s style,” Nero said.

  “And all of this is well and good, but I’ve already wasted six hours learning that they have the power words.” Not to mention he’d ruined any chance of ever returning to Court. “If I want to stop them from getting whatever they’re looking for, I have to leave now.”

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” Ryan said.

  “Except there isn’t anyone who can join me,” Grey said. “No one can be associated with me without risking Regis’s ire.” Which was the hard truth. If Hunter was around, he’d have Grey’s back without a second thought, but Hunter’s mission to find the Handmaiden and get her to help Anaea was more important than ever.

  Ryan shifted.

  “No,” Nero said before he could volunteer. “I need you helping Diablo. We still have those last few unnatural human mages from Zenobia’s coup running around endangering all of us and—”

  “You still haven’t found the leak in your team?” Grey asked.

  “No. And until I do, I can only trust Diablo and Ryan,” Nero said. “Everything is stretched thin. Now is a terrible time for someone to steal something from the Handmaiden.”

  “No kidding.” The room darkened for a second but thankfully it didn’t stay, only causing a writhing, semi-translucent fog. “If things get really bad, I’ve got Diablo on speed dial as a last resort.”

  “I hate this,” Ryan said.

  Nero flashed his teeth, revealing his frustration. “So do I.”

  “Hey.” Grey shoved up to his feet. “Hunter’s probably already looked for her at her private residence, but you never know. Maybe she’ll be there and that will solve everything.” It was a next-to-nothing chance, but he had to hope. If they didn’t find her soon, Anaea could accidently kill everyone around and all of drake society would tear itself apart.

  CHAPTER 6

  The room’s memories blazed around Ivy and everything was tinged blue with the fire of her power. The soothing comfort of reading new memories seeped, a gentle warmth after a long deep chill, through her veins, and the tension across her neck and shoulders eased. It had been prevalent since waking. For a second, she was complete, but the feeling didn’t last. It wasn’t nearly as strong as when Grey had brushed his jaw against hers and his memory fire had shivered over her cheeks and down her neck, igniting a toe-curling need within her, but it wasn’t nearly as dangerous, either.

  Succumbing to her desires could only make her situation worse, and she could only pray Grey wasn’t still standing in the Handmaiden’s outer chamber when she was finished… even if a part of her really wanted him to.

  She shoved that thought back. Concentrate on what Tobias wanted. Find out what happened here. Nothing more.

  Her power — thankfully — surged, and a memory of the Handmaiden appeared, gliding down the stairs. Her image shifted and she sat behind the desk. It shifted again and now she stood beneath the glass globes hanging from the stairs and second-story balcony — those broken and in the wastebasket by the door. The woman’s aura glowed with both strength and softness at the same time. She was comfort and peace, creativity and play, and a ferocious dragon trapped in a human vessel, like Ivy.

  With all the time the Handmaiden had spent in this chamber, a sense of her self had been imbued into the walls, into the core of each atom they were made of. She was a drake to be feared and worshiped. She was a drake to be cherished and loved—

  The room’s memories jumped to one of Tobias standing in the doorway, unwilling to step deeper into the room, and the Handmaiden sitting in one of two wicker chairs by the desk, shaking her head with a rueful smile.

  “I said join me.” She pointed to the chair across from her.

  Tobias’s gaze jumped to it, but Ivy couldn’t tell if he wanted to join her or not.

  “Tell me what Constantine is doing now.”

  Tobias pursed his lips.

  “I could cast an auger spell, but they give me a headache, and it’s easier if you just share how the King is doing.”

  The memory wavered. It felt as if the room had jumped to another memory, but the Handmaiden still sat in her wicker chair and Tobias still stood in the doorway.

  “Ophelia is almost positive he’s soul sick.” His words snapped inside Ivy, and icy panic clutched her chest. Soul sick. Crazy. That was her fate.

  But it wasn’t. Not with this body. Except how long would she be allo
wed to keep it?

  Forever.

  But only if she did what they said. Always what they said.

  Her pulse roared, a frantic pounding that surged with her fear, freezing down her arms and legs.

  Do what they say. Obey.

  Her throat tightened. What was the point of having salvation from insanity if she wasn’t free? And how long could she carry on like this?

  She needed a plan.

  The memories of the room snapped away, leaving her surrounded by ghostly blue flames promising soothing relief but also the aching reminder of her servitude.

  Mother of All, no more. She gripped her locket. Come up with a plan to free yourself. Ophelia might help, or she might not. Ivy wasn’t entirely certain how loyal her friend was to Tobias. Without a doubt, Tobias would try to keep her. Possible options: run away—

  No, she didn’t have the skills to hide. They’d be able to find her.

  Fake her death?

  Same problem. She didn’t know enough about anything to make any good decisions.

  Learn and figure something out.

  Tears burned her eyes, and a growl bubbled in her throat. Mother of All, she was not going to cry. She’d read this room, give Tobias what he wanted, and bide her time. It was the only thing she could do.

  She subvocalized her power word and concentrated on the room’s most recent memories. They weren’t necessarily the strongest — those were usually events tied with strong emotions — but they were still easier to draw into her mind than those ancient memories without emotions that blended into all the other old, emotionless memories.

  The Handmaiden’s man, Grey, jumped into focus, along with a deep craving to find him, bathe in his memory fire, and feel powerful again.

  No. Focus on the room’s memories. The. Room.

  She dragged her attention back to the chamber. It lay in shambles, half the bookshelves toppled over with books scattered everywhere, the desk swiped clean, and shattered glass globes littering the floor. Grey righted two shelves and started sorting through the books, carefully — reverently — smoothing bent pages and covers. Sweat glistened at his temples, and tight lines crinkled at his eyes and around his mouth. His complexion was gray. It had been pale before. It was only now, with the absence of his fiery memories roaring around him, that she could really see him.

  She yearned to stay there and watch him for as long as it had taken him to tidy the room to the way it was now. If she couldn’t have the real him, somehow the remembered him would do. Which didn’t make any sense. The promise of his memories wasn’t in this memory — since the room couldn’t sense memories like she could. But she didn’t want to look away, wanted him to look up and see her, meet her gaze again… kiss her again.

  Which was impossible. This was just a memory.

  And watching Grey wasn’t the assignment. Find out who’d done it and see what they’d taken. After that, figure out how to get free of Tobias and the Royal Coterie.

  She released the memory and slipped backward in time, moving the memory as fast as she could to get through it in the shortest time possible without missing an important detail. Grey left. Tobias opened the door. The room was in shambles. He pulled out his phone — or rather put it away — then left. Then a while of nothing, and then a woman was leaving.

  Ivy slowed the memory to normal time and watched the woman, a black drake — from her midnight aura — move backwards to the desk. Not surprising, Ivy didn’t recognize the drake, but that didn’t matter. If Ivy concentrated on remembering the drake’s image, Ophelia could pull it from her mind. Maybe she’d recognize this black drake and the culprit could be brought to swift justice.

  The items on the desk jumped up from the floor onto the desk and the woman swept backwards and straightened. She pulled a small scroll, about the length and width of her thumb, from her pocket, looked at it, then put it in a small box that sat on the corner of the desk.

  What is it? Ivy asked the room.

  The memory jerked away from the black drake, and Grey materialized again, righting the first of the two wicker chairs.

  No, the scroll.

  Another jerk. Tobias sat in the closest chair. Somehow, he’d worked up the nerve to go past the threshold and join the Handmaiden.

  The scroll.

  The room’s memory dimmed. Blue flames swept around her, and the Handmaiden’s form materialized by the globes and on the stairs at the same time. If the room knew what was on the scroll, it wasn’t going to tell her. Ivy could only pray that knowing this scroll had been taken would be enough to please Tobias.

  She rushed the memory back a little farther, watched the black drake search the Handmaiden’s desk, topple furniture, and flip through dozens of books from the farthest shelf as if looking for something but not finding it.

  With nothing else that was helpful, Ivy released her earth magic and stepped into the small, barren outer chamber. If she told Tobias now, that would give her the rest of the day to figure out a way to escape before she had to start — more or less — at the beginning again tomorrow.

  The door to the hall flew open and two guards strode in. They peeled away, one to each side, and revealed Prince Regis, his expression dark, the look heightened by his black and gold doublet, breeches, and hose from a human era long past. Blue flames danced on the many gold chains around his neck and the rings on every finger, but only a hint came from his clothes — they might be an old style, but they weren’t old and didn’t hold much of a history. His gold aura shimmered bright and strong, like Tobias’s and Grey’s, indicating he, too, was an ancient drake and old enough to remember the Great Scourge.

  Ivy dropped to her knees. “Your Highness.”

  Regis shifted his massive weight but didn’t move from the doorway. Even if she could leave without drawing offense, he’d blocked her only escape.

  “It’s time we had a chat,” he said.

  Ice snapped through Ivy and flash-froze solid in her gut. That was a sentence she’d never wanted to hear from the prince. Every instinct screamed. Get out. Flee. Regis is dangerous. Those thoughts had been clear, strongly imprinted in her locket when she’d read it that morning. But there was nowhere to go, and even if she could get past him, the two guards already in the room would stop her before she even got that far.

  “Of course, your Highness,” she said, her voice shaking along with her body. If she said the wrong thing, looked at him the wrong way, he could have her reborn—

  Except with the Handmaiden gone, no one could be reborn. She was the only drake with the magic ability to cast the rebirth spell. Which didn’t mean Regis wouldn’t think of something just as horrible for Ivy.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed with your last assignments that things have been dangerous at Court.” Regis sauntered to the chair at the center of the room, drawing closer to Ivy, and sat.

  Her insides squirmed with the need to inch away.

  He slid his hands down the worn wooden arms and surveyed the barren walls as if seeing the room in a new light. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard them whispering lies about me.”

  “Only if the halls remember.”

  He squinted, his gaze unfocused, seeing her but not really seeing her.

  “She’s the drake who doesn’t leave her quarters,” a man with a gravelly voice said from the doorway. A new drake now stood framed by the guards, young and orange — according to the strength and color of his aura. He wore a tailored black suit that matched his black hair and trimmed beard and accentuated his pale skin and sharp facial features. He wasn’t particularly big, not like Regis’s girth or Grey’s height, but he exuded a darker sense of danger than either drake.

  He brushed his suit jacket back, rested his hands on the hilts of a matching katana and wakizashi, and flashed his perfect teeth at her. Heat radiated from his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if the teeth flash was a sexual invitation or aggression. It felt like both.

  “No drake just s
tays in her suite, Bolo,” Regis said.

  She wrenched her attention back to Regis. This new drake, Bolo, might be physically dangerous, but Regis was the real threat. “I read the halls and report to the chamberlain.”

  “And now you report directly to me.” Regis leaned back in the chair, getting more comfortable, and slapped the arms. “Here.”

  “Here?” The word slipped out before she could stop it.

  “What? You have a problem with that?” Regis barked a harsh laugh, drawing a shiver through Ivy that ran bone deep. His gaze jumped to Bolo. “She has a problem with that, assassin.”

  “No, I don’t.” The shiver tightened in her chest.

  Bolo leaned against the doorframe, his hands still on his weapons. “How useful is she?”

  “Very,” Tobias growled from behind him.

  Bolo jerked forward, revealing Tobias standing in the doorway. For a second Bolo’s menace vanished, exposing a young, cocky drake playing a part. Compared to Tobias and Regis, every other drake in the room was a hatchling, and Tobias right now was the top predator. If she could see power and danger as a physical force, it would have been radiating off Tobias in giant, ferocious waves.

  He shouldered past Bolo, dropped into a formal bow at Regis’s feet then stood — not waiting for permission to stand. “Consider the change in reporting done.” Tobias glanced at Ivy. “What did the room tell you?”

  She swallowed, trying to get her throat — let alone the rest of her muscles — to loosen enough to speak. “It was a single female black drake, not ancient, but not too young, who ransacked the room.”

  Tobias nodded as if he was satisfied with her single-sentence answer — which, according to the memories in the locket, wasn’t like him at all. He wanted details, every little one she had. Reports lasted an hour with him pressing, asking and re-asking, to squeeze out everything she saw even if she didn’t fully understand it.

  “A black drake? That’s it?” Regis huffed. He leaned over the chair’s arm toward her, his face ugly with fury. “You need to be more specific than that.”