by C. I. Black
“I work for Tobias.” But Regis had made it clear that he owned her and now wanted face-to-face reports. Would he ask her to kill the Handmaiden’s man? She doubted she’d be able to take Grey’s head unless he was as injured as he was now, and after her pathetic attack on him in the ice garden, she knew she didn’t have any fighting skills—
Although maybe that wasn’t true. She’d shot that black drake, Jet, exactly where she’d intended, both times, and she hadn’t had to think twice about grabbing the gun and firing as if she’d known how to use the weapon all along.
He gasped, his breath wet and painful. “Tobias works for the prince—”
“I’m not anyone’s assassin.” But would Regis change the nature of her assignments? A shudder swept through her. Nothing was safe. That was clearly imprinted in her locket. She fought to drag her attention away from Grey, to the wall beside his head, the blood — his blood — slicking the floor, anywhere but his eyes. “Killing you isn’t my assignment, and if I don’t go back until this is done, Tobias can’t change it.”
“So what is your assignment?” His eyes narrowed and his gaze intensified, as if he could see into her dragon soul through her human eyes.
“Find out if that black drake—”
“Jet. That’s her name.”
“Okay. Find out if Jet had been here and if she took anything.”
“Yeah, because you’re going to know what’s missing.” His attention jumped to the massive hall behind her, releasing her from his gaze. “I know you haven’t been here before, so it’s ridiculous to think you’d possibly know.”
“Maybe I was here before.” She shifted away from him and climbed over the railing onto the balcony, but couldn’t bring herself to move farther than just out of reach. “Does the Handmaiden tell you everything?”
“No.” The fire of his memories flared again. The flames pulled at her, tempting her to move closer, release her earth magic, and ease the ache in her soul. “But I have very little memory of you, and the Handmaiden has never mentioned you.”
“And you remember everything,” she said, unable to hide the sarcasm from her tone. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”
He cocked an eyebrow and sudden realization snapped through her.
“Oh, my God, you do remember everything.” That explained why the fire around him was so strong. It wasn’t just that he was old — he might not even be as old as she first thought — but being able to remember everything meant all of his memories were fresh, strong, and ready to be recalled with a thought. She ached just thinking about how that would feel, how she could wake knowing who she was, what she’d done yesterday, and who her friends were. Mother, what she wouldn’t give to have a fraction of that.
“So I know you’ve never been here. Wanna try your explanation again?”
Her power word started to unfurl within her throat, and she fought to keep it back.
“You also knew where Jet was hiding. So I’m going to bet it’s connected to your earth magic and that magic isn’t the ability to see the invisible.” He staggered back to the ornamented glass and wrought iron door leading out of the Handmaiden’s residence, dropped to one knee, and pressed a hand against the still-bleeding gunshot wound. His sword lay within reach but he didn’t grab it, just kept staring at her as if waiting for her to talk or attack.
“I never really gave you an explanation in the first place,” she said, trying to buy herself time to find any other option than fighting or talking. With his sword close by, even injured, she’d never win, but if she told him the truth, he could use her like Tobias did.
Except Tobias had said Grey was the Handmaiden’s man. Everything about the Handmaiden in Ivy’s locket said that while she was a mysterious sorcerer, she was kind and honorable. Would she accept someone’s oath into her service if he wasn’t the same? If Ivy asked, would Grey help her escape Court?
He had just said Regis wanted him dead. Clearly, he didn’t have any love for the dragon prince.
Mother! She couldn’t believe she was even considering it, and she had no idea what his answer would be.
“I’m not obligated to give you an explanation.” But she was going to have to make a decision about him.
“You’re not.” He coughed, the sound still ragged and wet.
Everything within her stuttered again. “Why aren’t you healing?” It hurt just looking at him, and she had no idea why. She’d just met this man. He’d said he didn’t have a lot of memories of her, so there’d never been anything between them… unless he didn’t recognize her aura and he’d meant something to her before she’d been reborn into this body. But even then, she wouldn’t remember him. This feeling… this connection was impossible.
He coughed again, and every muscle clenched in agony. Even the fire of his memories flared, rigid and sharp, biting her senses.
She jerked a step toward him, unable to help herself, but froze when she realized what she was doing. “You should put more pressure on that. At least until it stops bleeding.”
“I still need to know what your deal is.”
But the more she thought about it, the more fearing she’d attack him didn’t make sense. “If you’re so worried about me trying to kill you, then why save me from falling off the balcony?”
“Because if your goal isn’t to kill me when I’m down, then I’d appreciate help back to the gate so I can get back up and return to figure out what Jet was after. She has a head start and whatever her plan, it risks destabilizing Court more than it already is,” he said. “If you broke your leg, we’d have to wait for one of us to heal enough to help the other. I don’t know how fast you heal.”
“Faster than that.” At least, she thought she was. If she thought about it, she wasn’t really sure.
He snorted. “Yeah, everyone is faster than this.”
Which might explain why he’d sworn himself into the Handmaiden’s service. If he was really as old as she thought, he should be holding a high rank in his coterie, possibly even be the doyen, but with that came challenges — usually deadly ones. As the Handmaiden’s man, he didn’t hold an envious position and was never in anyone’s political way.
“So, what’s it going to be? Tell me what your deal is and help me back to the gate?” He shrugged then gasped, and a tight moan escaped. “Or what?”
If she walked away, she’d have more time to come up with a plan to escape Court, but if she couldn’t figure out something, she’d still have to report to Tobias. And just telling him Jet had been here but not knowing what she’d done would make him suspicious. If Ophelia was around, with her ability to read thoughts, she’d know Ivy had abandoned the assignment.
Crap.
She bit back a growl. The fastest way to do this was to tell Grey the truth. She might not be able to ask Grey for help, but not revealing her earth magic to him only wasted time she didn’t have. It would be easier to hide her interaction with Grey from Ophelia if there wasn’t any doubt about her fulfilling the assignment.
“I can tell what Jet took and what she did here because my earth magic reads the memories of things, like the room.”
He frowned but she couldn’t tell if that was because he didn’t understand or if he was trying to figure out how to use her. “So you knew where she was hiding because—?”
“The room told me.”
“Well, that’s more useful than remembering every God damned little thing.”
“Yeah,” she said, her throat tightening. What she wouldn’t give to remember any God damned little thing without needing to use her earth magic every morning.
“I know you have to report what you learn to Tobias, but would you be willing to share it with me?”
She stared at him, his words rushing through her. Did he just ask if she was willing to share? As if she had a choice in the matter?
“I don’t think it’ll create problems for you with Tobias. He asked me to look into this. But it could be an issue if Regis finds out.”
; No one had asked her if she was willing to help before. Not that she could remember.
His frown deepened. “You keep staring at me. I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no.”
Neither could she.
“So?”
“Yes, on one condition.” The words leapt out before she realized what she was saying.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less of a drake.” A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “What are your terms?”
Her brain froze. What were her terms? Was she really going to use him to help her leave Court? From his own confession, it didn’t sound as if she’d be putting him in any more danger with Regis than he already was.
Mother of All, she was going to use him.
She gripped her locket, letting her desperation and hope fill her and willing this moment into it. She couldn’t risk falling asleep and forgetting this… forgetting him. “A favor for a favor.”
“Are you going to tell me what this favor is?”
“Not yet.” She couldn’t just ask him to help her escape. Even she knew enough about the dragon Court that what she wanted wasn’t a fair trade and he’d figure that out the moment she asked for it. No, information about what Jet had done didn’t equal all the work she was sure would be necessary to make her disappear. But if she could stick around him, learn more about the human world by surreptitiously reading his memories — something she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do, but God, it was her only hope — then she’d be able to figure out what would be fair.
His gaze searched hers, sending shivers racing through her, and for a moment she wondered if he’d lied about his earth magic and if he really possessed the power to tell if she was lying.
Which she wasn’t. It would be fine. She would find a way to use him instead of being the one who was used.
“Do we have a deal or not?” She couldn’t believe she was being so forthright. She might be a drake, but she’d always been at a disadvantage before.
“I have one other condition.”
The ice in her gut — the fear that constantly lived with her that she’d somehow forgotten while staring at this man — tightened. Hard. It reminded her of who and what she really was. A drake without a memory and helpless.
“What?” she asked, her voice small and her unable to make it stronger.
“You tell me your name.” He held out a bloody hand, looked at it, then pulled it back. “I’m Grey.”
The ice softened and the ache in her chest — she wasn’t sure if it was for the yearning to read his memories or something else — throbbed. “I’m Ivy.”
His gaze held hers for a heartbeat more, his eyes filled with a longing and pain. The same pain she’d seen in him before. The memory fire flared around him, and his attention slid past her to the massive hall behind her.
More fire danced around him as his memory gained strength. Every fiber of her being screamed to move closer, read whatever he was remembering. Perhaps if he was already thinking about it, he wouldn’t notice if she read it. She’d just be an invisible hitch-hiker—
But if he noticed, he’d break their deal and she’d have no way to escape Court.
The fire burned brighter, drawing a groan from deep within her.
She hugged herself, trembling with the urge to inch forward.
His expression hardened. With a hiss, he jerked back and the memory fire vanished. His gaze sharpened again and snapped to hers.
“We’re wasting time,” he said, his tone sharp as he picked up his sword and wiped it clean on the edge of his coat. “What was Jet doing here?”
Right. The deal… and her assignment. She yanked her attention away from him, but the need to say her power word and read his memories didn’t fade.
She drew in a breath. Focus on the room. Concentrate. She was going to use her magic. This residence was old. Surely, it had hundreds of memories and could ease her inner ache for a while. Except she didn’t know how often the Handmaiden came here. Centuries of being empty wouldn’t provide a satisfying read. Although it would make it easier to find the memory of Jet.
But she didn’t want to read the room. She wanted to read Grey. Even with his memory fire somehow muted, the urge to pry, to be enveloped in his strong, vibrant memories, was all she could think about.
“Do you need me out of the room?” He shifted closer to the wall and used it to help him stand. “Tobias told me earlier to leave the Handmaiden’s chambers so you could work.”
“No.” Mother, she could barely think straight with him standing beside her, but Ophelia wasn’t there and wouldn’t be able to pull the memory of the room reading from her head. “I’ll probably need you to explain things. Can you walk?”
“Walk, yes. Run, probably not.” He slid the blade into the sheath at his hip.
“I don’t think I’ll run.” A hint of fire danced in the center of the hall below her. Yes. Concentrate on that.
“You don’t think—?”
“Sometimes I’m not completely conscious of my surroundings when I use my magic.”
“I can relate,” he said, so softly she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly.
The fire in the hall below flickered, and she hissed her power word before she could second guess herself… or turn her attention back to him.
Her power roared to life and leapt toward Grey. Even clinging to the railing, keeping her back to him, she could feel the heat of his memories. Power surged through her, the ache in her soul vanished, and she was complete, whole, and powerful.
The great hall darkened, shrouded in an unnatural twilight, and the reek of garbage engulfed her.
“How fast can you heal, drake?” a voice rasped.
Panic snapped through her, but she didn’t know if it was hers or his.
And not the point. She didn’t have permission, and he wouldn’t understand that this was an accident. It would look like she was purposefully prying into his secrets.
She mentally wrenched at her magic, but it clung to him and the darkness completely devoured the room, revealing an alley. A chill slithered through her, making her teeth chatter, and rain rattled against glass. A knife leapt into view with blood slicking its edge and dripping from its point, plopping into a puddle by her foot— his foot. Grey’s foot.
Her pulse pounded faster. Pain seared across her neck and she gasped for air. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t think past the agony—
No, he couldn’t. And he wasn’t going to heal fast enough to fight back.
Someone roared, but she couldn’t focus enough to see what was happening.
Breathe. You’re not the one hurt. But a memory had never seized her like this before. She’d certainly never felt one. And God, why did it have to be such a painful one?
Another roar. Screaming. Then a blinding flare of magic. The medallion capturing a dragon’s soul — something she only knew because this was Grey’s memory.
Not anyone she was supposed to be reading.
Jet. Tell me about Jet. She clawed at her magic, trying to stop it. If it was no longer activated, the memory would stop and she could try again.
Light from the medallion seared her mental eyes.
No. Show me Jet. She fought to just turn her magic off. In the Handmaiden’s secret residence.
Another scream. The form of an enormous man towering above her appeared in the darkness, shadow himself but edged with a brilliant red aura, revealing an ancient drake. Just like Grey.
Her power flared at the thought, a sudden strong burst, and the twilight alley flickered, with the Handmaiden’s hall visible underneath.
The red drake knelt, no longer towering, but still a match physically to Grey, and a deep familiar love filled her.
Her power flickered, weakened, and the twilight alley regained strength—
No, became something else… a hall…? a foyer…? The damp and reek were gone, but fear still clutched her chest. The red drake now stood before her, same brilliant aura, but his human body had narrowe
r shoulders—
Please. Grey’s thoughts? Hers? She couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
Please. She fought harder to turn her magic off. Her mind stuttered. The Handmaiden’s massive hall had reappeared when her magic had been stronger.
Maybe the way out wasn’t back, but through. Seizing that thought, she screamed her power word, using the burst of energy from the yell to deepen her focus on her power. The red drake vanished and the gloom of Grey’s memories exploded, revealing the hall engulfed in the familiar blue haze of memory fire when her power was activated. The image of Jet rushed down the stairs and Ivy followed, refusing to check if Grey was behind her for fear her magic would latch onto him again.
CHAPTER 12
Grey gasped, his body weightless and the pressure of his unwanted memories gone. Then the fog flooded around his vision as Ivy bolted down the stairs. She’d done something, but he had no idea what. All he knew was, for that moment, she had burned away the fog of too many memories. And whatever she’d just done, it had been stronger than when they’d run into each other in Court, like standing in the heart of a sun and letting it sear away the miasma in his soul.
And then it was gone.
Her eyes had widened, as if she’d seen something horrible, something—
Ah, shit. Her earth magic was the ability to read memories, and she was a young drake. She might not have complete control of it. If she didn’t, then she might have seen one of the terrors haunting him.
Except she’d specifically said “things.” She hadn’t said memories in general.
He wasn’t sure he really knew what that meant. Could she read his shirt and know he’d had a conversation with Nero less than an hour ago? Maybe that was what she’d seen. Maybe she’d seen Anaea with her suddenly awakened empathy losing control of her wind power. What else had he done wearing this shirt? … These pants? … God, his boots! He’d been wearing these boots since Anaea had called almost a month ago from the human world and said something was wrong with Hunter, when his best friend’s soul had been trapped inside her.
He forced himself after Ivy, his body screaming with pain.
