Of Bone and Ruin
Author: T.A. White
Date: 2017-05-18 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; dragons; Magic; Paranormal; Shapeshifters; Science Fiction; Romance; Adult; Fantasy Romance; High Fantasy
Description: An ancient discovery has been made close to the city of Aurelia—one that promises wealth and power equal only to the dangerous secrets lying at its heart. With three powerful groups vying for control of the discovery’s unlimited potential, it will take a delicate touch not to tip the scales toward war. Something Tate Fisher, a newly accepted dragon-ridden with a bit of a memory problem, has never been known for possessing. Tate must learn to navigate the undercurrents of this society if she wants her friends and empire to come out the other side in one piece. Because these secrets involve Tate

Copyright © Tobey White, 2017

All Rights Reserved

I wanted to thank Emily, Kate, Mary Beth and my dad for devoting your precious time and energy to polishing this story. This book would not have been the same without your help.

Chapter One

It wasn’t often she contemplated cannibalism, but the man ranting at her tested her patience and discipline in the worst way. If only solving her problems were as simple as turning into a dragon and chomping them to death.

Would it even be considered cannibalism if she was a dragon at the time of consumption?

The presence inside her stirred, a soft movement on her arm as the dragon tattoo known as Ilith used Tate’s eyes to peer out at the world. Her chuckle was a rumbly tickle in her mind before Ilith said, Too chewy. Wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

Tate kept her sigh internal even as she conceded Ilith’s point. It was vexing knowing there was nothing she could do but sit here and listen.

Ilith kneaded Tate’s arm in sympathy, the dragon’s claws sending a disconcerting shiver under her skin. Tattoos weren’t supposed to do that.

Tate was considered Dragon-Ridden, one of the few capable of forming a bond with a dragon. One of the side effects of that bond was that the two shared one body, able to move between the two forms. At present Tate was human and Ilith a tattoo on her arm.

It was supposedly an honor, but Tate had yet to feel particularly honored. Especially since that honor seemed to come with a shit ton of strings, more like ropes, that were determined to hang her.

“Are you listening to me?” Instructor Daiske snapped, his all-black eyes making Tate think of a dead fish.

She pasted on an attentive look, though the answer was no, she had not been listening.

There was a snicker from somewhere in the room. The other students in the class took pleasure when Tate was put on the spot, which happened regularly. As the oldest person in the class by a few years, and one of the few who hadn’t earned her spot through endless study, she could understand how it might be amusing to see her get her comeuppance.

Daiske gestured sharply to the board. Tate followed his gesture and frowned. Crap, they were back to summoning elements. So far, she was zero for ten. Daiske knew that too. She didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by making an example of her. He knew she didn’t have a choice about being here. The powers that be had ordered she attend classes to learn all that they felt a member of the Dragon-Ridden should know, since she was now technically above the nobility. That meant lessons in history, politics, deportment, military strategy, sword play and other weapons, languages and magic.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t done half bad in most of the subjects. The sole exception being magic.

“We don’t have all day, Fisher.”

Tate gave Daiske a look, letting some of her dragon peek out.

Daiske was a tall, thin man. Handsome, as all Kairi seemed to be, with long, black hair pulled back from his face in a series of complicated braids. There was a faint impression of golden scales along his forehead and jawline.

His eyes narrowed and his face became implacable as he once again gestured at the board.

Tate huffed, conceding the staring contest and examined the board more closely. She recognized the symbols at least. Looked like he wanted her to call fire. Because nothing said good idea like calling a fire elemental indoors where things like books and buildings could go up in flames.

“You want me to summon fire,” Tate said, making her words a statement rather than the question that would invite more reprimands.

“And if you could do it today, I’d be especially pleased.”

He turned and headed to the front of the room. Tate stood and followed across the glassy floor. The entire room looked as though someone had melted rock and then super cooled it to create a perfectly unmarred surface with an obsidian like sheen.

Someone had etched a circle into the ground. Chalk symbols were drawn at the four directions, North, South, East, West, and it was within this circle that Tate stopped. It was the only break in the floor’s surface and acted as a containment field in case a student’s spell got out of control.

Tate hadn’t needed one yet as she’d proven an utter failure at any sort of magic.

The rest of the class stared back in varying degrees of amusement, derision or boredom. Most of them had waited years to be accepted into Daiske’s class. He was considered one of the elite in his field and had a gift for bringing out the maximum magical potential in his students.

The rest of the class had parents who were willing to pay an obscene amount of money to be pushed to the front of the line.

It didn’t help that Tate was years older than the rest. The oldest here was only twenty to Tate’s mid-twenties. At least Tate thought she looked like she was in her twenties. Who really knew? She certainly didn’t. She had no memories prior to waking up in a glass cylinder a little over a year ago. Her age, among many other things, remained a mystery. About the only thing she knew, was that she was bonded to a dragon named Ilith and her real name was Tatum Allegra Winters.

The name was familiar, so she assumed it was hers, though she kept that to herself. Most knew her as Tate Fisher.

Tate let her mind wander as she worked on putting herself in a near meditative state. Thinking of nothing was a lot harder than it sounded. The only way she could achieve the state was by thinking through everything bothering her before forcing those thoughts to quiet.

The point of this exercise, as far as Tate understood, was to reach into the next world and grab a being they called an elemental and bring it into this world. Ilith tended to call this space the ‘between’, though Tate had never heard Daiske refer to it as such.

Tate had yet to figure out how this could be done. For the others in the class, it seemed to come easy. They closed their eyes, held out their hands and then an elemental appeared. Most were usually small, but in a few rare cases the summoned element had taken up all extra room in the circle. Daiske had been very impressed.

Distantly she heard the classroom door open and two pairs of feet, one in boots and one not, pad along the edge of the classroom. She discarded the distraction, turning her focus inward.

Her conscious dipped abruptly as if it was floating on a string and someone had given it a sharp tug.

A hint of heat sparked at the edge of her perception, and her focus narrowed on it. Her forward progress halted as if she’d hit an invisible force, and the hint of heat darted away.

So close.

She opened her eyes and shook her head at Daiske.

He frowned at her. “Try again.”

Someone smothered a giggle in the back. Tate looked at the rest of the students but couldn’t figure out who’d laughed. Her eyes snagged on her friends—Dewdrop, a former pickpocket who’d somehow attached himself to Tate, and Night, a creature she’d met in the tunnels earlier this year. Nobody had a name for what he was, but Tate tended to refer to him as a bearcat.

She suspected the two of them had been the ones to enter the classroom.

“Today, Fisher.”

Tate released an angry exhale. She was an adult and yet Daiske tended to make her want to revert to being an angry youth.

She slammed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She cast her senses out searching for that spark.

There. She grabbed at it, her thoughts slipping and sliding around it.

This was the part she always had trouble with. She could sense the elementals easy enough, or at least what she thought was an elemental, but getting it to come to her was another story.

Daiske had said there were three parts to a summoning. The first was sensing it. The second was aligning her essence with it. The third was the call.

She centered herself and tried to project heat by thinking of fire. She called for it, using the word Daiske had made the class memorize. It was a waterfall of sounds in a language long lost to them. She had to fumble her way through them, her tongue struggling with some of the notes, and hope for the best.

Nothing happened.

She tried again. Still nothing

Daiske muttered something. She ignored him.

She used her senses to examine the thing she sensed. She didn’t know if her visualization was based on reality or simply something in her mind’s eye, but there was an alien intelligence to the spark. Almost like it knew what she was trying to do and found her feeble attempts amusing.

She cocked her head, frowning. Yes, that felt like thought patterns, similar to the kind Ilith made when she was dreaming. There, but not. Like they were just out of hearing distance. A persistent buzz that never coalesced into anything meaningful.

Tate didn’t bother sorting through the thoughts, having a feeling that it wasn’t the sort of thing she could comprehend without going a little insane.

She was stumped. She had no idea how to pull the elemental to her if it didn’t want to come. It had resisted her call and already was fading from her perception. It was everything she could do just to keep track of it.

Ilith, any ideas? Tate sent to the dragon.

The dragon’s presence moved closer. A shadow across Tate’s mind growing larger.

You’re out of sync, and your call is all over the place. It can’t create the bridge.

Is that all? So helpful.

Ilith’s tail thumped against Tate’s brain.

You’re the one who asked for help.

Chastised, Tate turned back to summoning the elemental.

How did one vibrate in tune with fire?

What was fire? At its core, fire was the exothermic chemical process of combustion. It could be caused by friction or when any type of flammable item met with a spark. None of this helped show her the way to call it though.

She huffed.

Concentrate. Try visualizing a string. One that is wrapped tight with barely any slack in it.

Not having much choice. Tate did as Ilith asked.

Good. Now imagine you pluck that string. It vibrates. Do the same to yourself until the vibrations put you in line with fire.

Tate concentrated, not sure how to accomplish that. Her thoughts receded and warmth flooded her body as pressure built around her. Tighter and tighter until it felt like she’d be crushed under the force.

She directed that force at the spark. The world snapped back with an audible crack and explosion.

Tate opened her eyes anticipating some type of fire elemental to be waiting for her. Instead, she gaped at the jagged grooves in the floor radiating out from where she stood. The spidery lines bisected the etched circle rendering it inert.

Daiske’s eyes widened as he looked at the devastation in the floor. Several students whispered in horror among themselves.

“How did she do that?”

“I thought the circle couldn’t be destroyed.”

“Do you see an elemental?”

Tate looked around. There was no elemental and no fire anywhere around her.

“What did you do?” Daiske shouted, finding his voice. He looked around his circle in disbelief, shaking with anger.

“I did what you asked. I tried to summon an elemental.”

“No. Summoning an elemental wouldn’t have had this affect. You’ve broken the circle and destroyed the floor. This entire room is unusable now.”

She could see that. There wasn’t a big enough area of unblemished stone to be able to draw a circle. Unless they melted it down, Tate didn’t see this place being used for magic lessons ever again.

“That’s a problem,” she said.

For a minute, she thought Daiske might try to strangle her. His black eyes glared and he looked inches from some violent act. It was kind of like being stared at by a wild sea creature from the depths of the ocean. You just knew it was trying to determine whether it was higher in the food chain or not.

“Go back to your seat,” he ordered.

Tate complied.

Dewdrop looked like he was trying to smother a smirk as she made her way to sit beside him. Night swished his tail in amusement and twitched his whiskers at her. She’d been around him long enough to know that was his version of a laugh.

“Thought the professor said you weren’t allowed to bring your pet anymore.” The speaker was a boy, no more than twenty, with blond hair and brown eyes. He sat three desks away from Tate but never passed up an opportunity to needle her.

“We’ve been over this before, Sam. Night is not a pet. He is an intelligent creature fully capable of understanding every word out of your mouth. I’d be careful if I were you. His teeth are sharp, and he’s exceedingly good at using them.”

On cue, Night exposed a set of gleaming white fangs. Tate knew from witnessing his hunting prowess exactly what he was capable of with those teeth and claws.

She also knew he wouldn’t use them on such insignificant prey as the students in the class. Not while he was trying to gain recognition from Aurelia’s government as a fourth species. To gain full rights such as owning territory and being able to go out without being hunted down, he couldn’t be seen to act like an animal. Sam didn’t know that, though.

Sam gave Night a wary look and shut his mouth on his next comment. Tate didn’t blame him for being cautious. Night looked dangerous. His body was a cross between that of a barbed tail cat and a sun bear. Brown, black, and gold stripes ran along his back fading into cream colored fur covered in black rosettes along his limbs. He had a flat nose and pointy ears that were longer than a typical cat with tufts of fur sticking out of each ear. His tail ended in sharp barbs that could cause a lot of damage.

He was an apex predator. Made deadly efficient by the same Creators who had made the Kairi and Silva. Like them, he had a couple extra features thrown in to make him even more dangerous. He also had the same complex thought processes of a human and could strategize and reason like one too.

Combined, these traits made him something to be feared—deadly and dangerous.

He was like Tate in that he’d also woken up from a long sleep with few memories of his prior life. What he remembered spoke of darkness, blood and death.

“Class is dismissed. Thanks to your classmate, we will not be able to proceed. Check the main hall announcement board this afternoon for the room assignment for tomorrow’s class.”

There was a collective groan from the students. While everybody put forth maximum effort in all the subjects, they were here for the schooling on magic. A passing mark from Daiske opened doors in Aurelia, many of which led to significant wealth and power. A delay in classes would not make Tate any more popular with this crowd.

The group began to pack up.

“Fisher, Lord Ryuji will be informed of this incident,” Daiske snapped.

Tate’s mouth twisted into a frown. He wasn’t going to be happy. They’d already had two discussions this month about complaints from Daiske. Ryu was worried that all of this would reflect poorly on Tate, especially since she was still technically under probation for having an unsanctioned dragon. She’d barely escaped a treason charge during the Donza Festival.

“You really have no luck,” Dewdrop said, watching the instructor leave. “That’s what? The second time this month.”

Third, Night inserted.

Dewdrop whistled. “You’d think he’d run out of things to complain about.”

Dewdrop was the same age as a lot of the other students. Sixteen or seventeen by his best guest. His fresh, baby face seemed to support that. Unlike the rest of the students, he hadn’t had the benefit of the best education that money could buy. His knowledge was more the kind you picked up when living hand-to-mouth and needed to adapt to survive. He made a damn fine pickpocket.

Bet she’ll be in Ryu’s office before dinner.

“Naw, I’m betting she’ll be called in within the hour. Daiske was looking a mite more irked than usual. He’s probably making a beeline for one of the mirrors.”

Great. Just what Tate needed.

“I did exactly what he requested. I tried to summon an elemental.”

Dewdrop gave the broken floor a skeptical look. “Granted I’ve never tried my hand at summoning, but I don’t think it’s supposed to do that.”

Tate looked at the floor. No, she didn’t either. Just one more thing that set her apart. As if having no memories and a living dragon tattoo wasn’t enough.

Dewdrop clapped her on the shoulder. “No worries, fearless leader. I think it’s pretty impressive. If I was an elemental, I’d want to be called by a badass summoner like you.”

Any idea what went wrong? Night asked.

“No clue. One moment I was trying to vibrate in tune with the elemental, next it was like the world exploded.”

“Vibrate? How does one go about doing that?” Dewdrop asked. He started shimmying in place. “Like this? Maybe I can summon an elemental if I do it too.”

Tate laughed. “Stop, you look like you’re having a fit.”

Dewdrop followed her, shimmying and shaking the entire way, as she and Night walked towards the door. “What? I’m vibrating. Don’t you like it?”

You look like one of those jumping ants on hot stone, Night said.

Dewdrop stopped shaking. “You’re just jealous of the awesome elemental I’m going to summon.”

“What are you two doing here anyway?” Tate asked as they made their way slowly down the hall and out into the courtyard.

It was hot outside, the kind of heat that made you feel like you were in a warm oven. It was everywhere. It left Tate wanting to strip and find a cool rock to lie on. One that was preferably submerged in a pool fed from glaciers. It was probably why they were the only ones brave enough to risk being baked alive by the sun.

Despite the heat, the grass still looked green and the flowers pretty even if they were a little wilted around the edges. Gardeners spent hours every morning tending to their upkeep.

They made their way along one of the loose pebbled walkways to a bench shaded by a tree in the corner of the courtyard. Its branches arched overhead, the leaves providing a welcome respite from the unrelenting sun.

“Remind me again why we can’t stay inside like normal people,” Dewdrop complained.

“I spend all day inside attending classes. It doesn’t hurt you to spend a little time outside.”

Tate and Dewdrop collapsed onto the bench, grateful to be out of the direct sun. Night walked over to the tree and used his forelegs tipped with claws to muscle his way into its branches. The leaves barely rustled as he padded along the branch until he reached the crook right over Tate and Dewdrop’s heads. He stretched out, crossing his paws and laying his head down. His tail flicked lazily back and forth.

“A little time, my ass,” Dewdrop muttered. “We had to walk all the way from the Lower to reach this place.”

Tate felt impressed despite herself, and a little bad she’d made them come back outside.

The city of Aurelia was broken into two parts. The lower half cradled the half-crescent harbor of the port. This was where many of the markets were located and was home to those without an excess of wealth, many of them the working class. The area referred to as the Upper perched on top of the massive black cliffs overlooking the Lower city and harbor. It was the seat of the Empire’s government. If you lived up here, it meant you were part of the upper echelons of society.

Aurelia’s Academy, the building where Tate spent a good part of her day, was located in the academic district on the border between the Upper city and the Lower. It would have taken hours of uphill walking to reach her. It was a journey she’d made every day for the last month.

We took the elevator.

Dewdrop glared at the oversized feline above them.

Tate’s lips quirked in a half smile. She felt a lot less bad now. The elevator built into the side of the cliff would have cut their journey down to twenty minutes.

Seeing the look on Tate’s face, Dewdrop snapped, “It was still hot.”

“Uh huh.”

Dewdrop rolled his eyes, acting very much like the little brother Tate sometimes treated him as. He tugged on his ear as he shifted on the bench.

Her eyes narrowed. He was normally a superb liar, able to stare someone in the eye as he lied through his teeth. Over the last few weeks, she’d taken the time to learn some of his tells. She was sure if he concentrated he could make her believe up was down and vice versa, but in unguarded moments he tended to give himself away.

There were only a few reasons she could think of that would make him want to keep something from her.

“You did another job for Ryu, didn’t you?”

His hand dropped and he cursed.

Told you she would figure it out.

Dewdrop tipped his head back and glared at the feline on the tree branch.

That was all the confirmation Tate needed.

“I can’t believe this. Again?”

He spread his hands. “We need the money. We’ve got five mouths to feed.”

He was right. They were running critically short on the money she had accrued from being part of a pirate crew, and Tate couldn’t easily make more locked up in classes everyday learning about important but inedible things.

“Wasn’t it you who said Ryu was a misbegotten son of an ass who couldn’t be trusted not to make everyone else as miserable as he was?”

“That was you.”

Tate paused and frowned. That’s right. She’d said that after he gave her the order that consigned her to death by boredom.

“But Ryu? Couldn’t you find some other way to make money?”

“What? Like pick pocketing?” He shook his head. “That route closed as soon as I left Lucius’s gang. It’s too dangerous to try to work in the Lower city. The Night Lords have carved up every street between themselves. Anyone caught poaching is dealt with decisively. And the Upper city is no safer with the Black Order patrolling every corner.”

“Maybe something a little less illegal. And dangerous,” Tate tacked on to the end. Anything Ryu was involved in was bound to be extremely dangerous. The last time she’d gotten sucked into his machinations she had almost died and was brought to the attention of the empire. Something that she had a feeling would have been better off avoided.

There’s not a lot of options for us. Not many people want to hire a creature like me or a former thief like him.

Night’s eyes were closed as he rested on the branch. To the outside world, he would seem relaxed and napping.

She hadn’t realized he was involved in this too.

“It wasn’t too bad, Tate,” Dewdrop said earnestly. “Neither one of us have a scratch.”

“What did he have you do?”

Dewdrop face was guilty as he gave a half-hearted smile. “We can’t tell you that.”

“Come on,” Tate scoffed.

“That’s always part of the agreement with Ryu. He doesn’t want things spread around.”

“Even with me?”

Especially with you.

What did Ryu have these two involved in that he didn’t want her to know of it? And since when did he think a little thing like confidentiality was going to stop her?

She gave Dewdrop a sidelong look, assessing the likelihood of her getting the information out of him. He gave her innocent eyes as if he didn’t know exactly what she was thinking. Chances were low of her cracking him right this minute. She’d wait. He’d let something slip eventually.

The gravel crunched and Night lifted his head. Tate and Dewdrop turned to look as another student rounded the hedges a few feet from them. The woman paused when she caught sight of the three of them. She had no choice but to pass right next to them.

“Tate.” Not a hair of her light brown hair moved from her sleek chignon as the woman gave a perfunctory nod, her almond shaped brown eyes flicking to the other two and away again. She was one of the few students in the class who seemed a similar age to Tate, appearing only a year or two younger at most.

“Roslyn.”

Roslyn’s lips tightened slightly at the lack of title. She didn’t like the fact that Tate outranked her. As a direct descendant of a Savior, Roslyn was used to being the ranking person at any gathering. She wasn’t quite sure what category Tate fell into. Technically, Tate existed outside the nobility since she was Dragon-Ridden. She supposedly only answered to the emperor himself. In reality, Tate wasn’t born a noble which made her little more than a street beggar in many eyes.

Tate suspected it was Roslyn’s rumored rocky relationship with her family that was really the culprit behind her chilly reception.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Roslyn asked.

“It was canceled.”

“Yeah, someone destroyed the summoning circle,” Dewdrop quipped.

Tate shot him a glance as he smothered his grin.

Roslyn’s eyes moved between the two of them as she put two and two together.

“You destroyed the circle?” Her forehead furrowed as she peered at Tate with a grudging respect.

Tate shrugged, uncomfortable with her utter failure at summoning the elemental.

“I’ve only seen that happen twice. Both times the summoner tried to call something too big for their ability level or the space allotted.”

Was that what happened?

“It’s rare to break a circle. Usually your call will just terminate before the being can try to cross the bridge. It takes a lot of power to create and maintain the bridge so few people even attempt it.” She gave Tate an assessing gaze. “Those summoners ended up in a coma from the snap back and power drain. How are you feeling?”

Now that Tate thought about it, she had a hellacious headache starting at the base of her neck and she was feeling chilled despite the heat.

“Just a mild headache.”

Roslyn’s nod was slow as if she didn’t quite believe the partial truth. “You’re lucky if that’s all. I’m surprised Professor Daiske didn’t take you to the healers to be sure.”

“He was too busy ripping Tate a new one,” Dewdrop muttered.

Roslyn’s attention shifted to him. “That is not the action of a teacher. The blame lies with him for not ensuring she knew the limits of the circle.”

“You seem to know a lot about this magic stuff,” Dewdrop observed.

“I should,” Roslyn said crisply. “This is my second time through the course.”

Tate’s jaw dropped. What could be so interesting that she would want to sit through this twice? And how much money would it have taken to secure a seat the second time around?

Tate was all for learning, but she was much more suited for action. Beyond the practical skills like weapons and military strategy, she found it difficult to pay attention to the hours and hours of lectures.

“You decided to go through this voluntarily?” Dewdrop asked, his horror reflecting Tate’s.

Roslyn looked a little uncomfortable by the statement. “My family and I decided there was value in going over the material in case I’d missed something the first time.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty much a master at this,” Tate said, leaning back on one hand.

Night chuffed his agreement, drawing Roslyn’s eyes upward. Interest sparked behind her eyes before a veil slammed down hiding her thoughts.

“There is always more to learn,” Roslyn said, a thread of discomfort weaving through her voice.

Tate decided to drop the subject, not wanting the conversation to end just yet. This was the most Roslyn had spoken to her, or any person in the class, since Tate started attending. Surprisingly, the woman wasn’t as difficult as Tate had assumed given the icy disdain Roslyn normally projected. When she forgot to keep that wall up, Roslyn was actually pretty interesting.

“True enough,” Tate said. “I wish I could just get the basics down though.”

Roslyn gave her a small smile. “It would certainly benefit all defenseless summoning circles.”

Tate snorted as her laugh surprised her. She hadn’t expected Roslyn to make a joke.

“What brings you out here?”

Roslyn’s face shut down. Tate could see she was about to excuse herself.

The doors to the courtyard slammed open and a man in the uniform of the emperor’s guard strode toward Tate and her friends. He wore brown pants and a green shirt with the crest of the emperor embroidered over the left side of his chest.

Roslyn looked both hopeful and terrified as his long strides ate up the distance.

“Tate Fisher?” he asked.

Roslyn’s face fell before she locked her emotions behind a mask of polite interest.

“That’s me,” Tate said from her seat on the bench.

“Lord Ryuji sent me to escort you to his office.”

“Is this about the damage to the circle? Because that wasn’t my fault.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Tate sighed. Of course he wouldn’t. Why give him all the details so he could settle Tate’s piece of mind?

“Don’t suppose this could wait? They’re serving cinnamon rolls at the midday meal. They only make those once a week.”

“I’m afraid not. He said you were to report to him as soon as you received his message.”

Yup, that sounded like him.

She looked at Night and Dewdrop. “You staying or coming?”

Dewdrop looked torn between the promise of warm, buttery roles and watching Tate get chewed out. Again. He always got a perverse joy out of watching it happen.

I doubt they’ll let us get any of the rolls if you’re not here. Night jumped out of the tree, a waterfall of movement.

The guard gave a tightly controlled jump as Night landed next to him.

Dewdrop shrugged in agreement. “It’s always fun watching you get yelled at.”

Tate walked toward the guard. “Guess we’re all going with you.”

He nodded and turned, trusting they would follow.

Roslyn watched them go with a curious expression on her face. Tate was tempted to invite her along as well, but she didn’t want any more of an audience than necessary.

Tate gave her a small wave before following behind the other three.

Chapter Two

Lucky for them, Ryu’s office was only a few blocks away, located in what was loosely referred to as the government district where many of the high-ranking officials had homes and offices. It was also where the military’s leadership had their headquarters, as well as the parliament and ruling bodies for the house of law and the courts.

Tate’s shirt was already beginning to stick to her back as they made their way down the cobblestone sidewalk with the sun beating down on the top of her head. The heat that was just bearable under the shade of the tree was stifling now that she was moving.

Night plodded along beside the guard. Tate couldn’t imagine having all that fur in this heat. Unlike canines, felines couldn’t pant to cool off either. They sweated through their feet. Night’s had to be on fire walking on the sunbaked stone. Dewdrop and Tate at least had shoes.

There weren’t many people out running errands. When it got this hot, most stayed inside unless it was necessary. During summer, Aurelia only really came alive during the early morning hours and after the sun went down at night. Otherwise, most people found a nice cool spot to wait out the heat.

It was something Tate wished she could do right about now. Most of her day was typically spent locked up in the classroom, which had a nice cooling system to keep the worst of the heat away.

The group meandered their way past the financial district and through one of the many city parks, where a horde of children wearing as little clothing as possible ran through one of the fountains.

Tate envied them. The water looked heavenly right now. It would be a splash of refreshment, trailing along her skin leaving blessed relief behind. Alas, she doubted Ryu would be happy if she showed up at his office sopping wet.

Dewdrop and Night were eyeing the fountain with the fervor of parched men in the middle of the desert, so she knew she wasn’t the only one wishing she had nowhere to be for the next few hours.

“He said no delays,” the guard said, noting where their attention had gone.

“It wouldn’t be a delay so much as a detour,” Tate tried.

“Detour, by definition, is a delay,” he returned.

Logic. Bah. Always getting in the way of great ideas.

“This way.” The guard set off down the path again. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost there my ass,” Dewdrop muttered. “We have another ten minutes, and then we have to climb two flights of stairs.”

That’s right, it was their second trip today. Tate was a little surprised that the two had decided to tag along. They could have headed back to Colton’s Place and the apartment the three of them rented. At least there, they could spend the rest of the day lazing around.

A crowd gathered at one end of the park where a man stood on the steps of a small gazebo preaching. His face was passionate and his gestures frenzied.

It was too hot to be that excited about anything. How did he even get that many people out at this time of day? In this heat?

A woman, perspiration dotting her forehead and her hair coiled in a tight bun at the back of her neck, stood in a small group on the edge of the path handing sheets of paper to people passing by. Seeing Tate, she darted over, thrusting a flyer into her hands.

“His words are true and just. Attend one of our speeches to find out how you can help in the fight.”

Tate took the flyer and turned it over. It was a drawing of an animal that walked upright, its fur the brightest sapphire blue and its eyes a startling green. Tate had never seen a creature with its coloring and features. Words were printed under the photo, ‘If we don’t act first, they will.’

Tate turned the flyer to show Dewdrop and Night. Her voice was dry as she said, “How lovely, another protest against the sleepers.”

The woman looked earnest as she leaned toward Tate, her eyes fanatical. “Not just the sleepers. They’re just the latest plague the Creators have visited upon us. If we truly want to rip out their rot, it’ll take forcing the Kairi and the Silva out of our beautiful city and back to their own lands.”

Night chose that moment to rise onto his back legs, placing a paw on Tate’s arm and moving it so he could see the flyer better. His whiskers pointed forward and he made a chuffing sound in the back of his throat before dropping back to all fours.

The woman gasped, looking horrified that one of the creatures she so abhorred stood right in front of her. She drew back as if Night, and Tate by association, were tainted.

Tate gave her a cutting smile, making sure all of her teeth were on display. It was a trait she’d picked up from Night. Teeth meant aggression and she was feeling aggressive. “I think we’ll pass. Somehow I just don’t think we’re the intended recipients of this message.”

The woman made a gurgling sound before darting back to her little circle of friends, huddling next to them and whispering, as Tate and her friends continued on their walk.

“That’s the third speech this month,” the guard said as they left. “They seem to get more aggressive every time they arrange one of these. The Upper city guards have been complaining about the amount of work it takes to get them to clear out when they’re done.”

Tate had heard rumors that mini protests were popping up all over the city, but they were mostly confined to the Lower where they could set up, preach their word and then disappear before the emperor’s guards tried to have them arrested.

A man exploded out of a pair of hedges camouflaging another path. He slammed into Dewdrop, nearly bowling him over. The stranger snarled and leapt back.

He wasn’t a big man, instead having the lithe form of an athlete. His hair was a mass of wavy brown, and he had the look of the wild on him. As if the touch of civilization only had the slightest hold. His amber eyes glared at them.

Night crouched and padded forward slightly, his ears pressed flat to his head and his whiskers pointed forward. It was the pose he adopted right before he pounced.

Tate stepped in front of Dewdrop, not wanting Night to cause an incident. She noticed three others, two men and a tall woman, slip silently up behind the man. All had the same shocking amber eyes and possessed a similar lethal grace, as if every movement was both a dance and a potential for violence.

They smell dangerous.

None of the strangers reacted to Night’s words. Tate realized he’d directed the message only to her, and perhaps Dewdrop.

“Check your pockets, Olav,” the woman said, eyeing Dewdrop with disdain. “I’ve heard the pick pockets are as thick as fleas on a cur in Aurelia.”

Tate fought the urge to look back at Dewdrop, not wanting to imply guilt. She sure hoped he’d managed to resist the urge. The man was exactly the kind of target Dewdrop liked. Convenient and, from the looks of it, rich.

“Are bullies as thick as fleas on a cur where you come from?” Tate asked as Olav felt along his pockets.

He shook his head at the woman. Tate released a breath. At least she didn’t have to worry about how to distract them now.

The woman curled her lip, showing a very sharp incisor.

Tate’s eyebrow rose. That half wild look Tate had attributed to living on the edge of the empire might come from something else. Something a little less human.

There were claws on the woman’s hands. Not nails. Claws. Tate recognized them for what they were because she sometimes had a set herself when Ilith got a little too close to the surface. Only hers were black.

They’re not human. Night opened his mouth in a sort of grimace that Tate had learned was really a way for him to take a deeper whiff of something. He, like a cat, had a Jacobson’s organ at the roof of his mouth that could be used to parse information from the scents around him. It was called flehmen behavior. Their scent is similar to that of an animal’s. I smell wolf and bear and something else. Something I don’t know how to name.

One of the three behind Olav noticed Night, his amber gaze sharpening with interest. He was older than the others with silver just beginning to thread through the hair at his temples. His face was still smooth and unlined but had an authoritative cast to it.

“You’re rather bold for a human. They usually start stammering and pissing themselves right about now,” the man with golden hair the color of sunshine said. He didn’t sound like he disliked that trait, more like he found it a surprising amusement. Like that of a rabbit you just learned had razor sharp teeth. Oddly cute, but not an immediate threat.

“I’m so glad I could surprise you,” Tate returned.

The woman stepped forward.

Tate fought a grimace. She really hadn’t planned to antagonize them. Only distract them from Dewdrop. It seemed some things couldn’t be helped.

She glanced at the guard, hoping he’d step in. Maybe imply they were on official empire business, which they kind of were, since Ryu actually answered to the emperor. The wide eyes and mild panic in his face didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in Tate of help from that quarter.

“Gabriella,” the older man said.

“I won’t break her,” Gabriella said. “Just bend her a couple of different ways. Maybe see if her instinct for survival still works.”

“As fun as that sounds, I’m going to have to pass. We’ve got important business so I don’t have time to find out.” Tate shot them a charming smile.

It didn’t seem to have the intended effect on Gabriela and Olav though Sunshine seemed to find it mildly amusing. Perhaps her smile needed work. It was possible it had lost its charm, if it ever had any to begin with, which Tate was beginning to doubt. It never seemed to get her out of tough spots. That didn’t stop her from trying though.

Gabriela’s eyes went to the crowd amassing next to the gazebo. "Or perhaps she's brave because she thinks the human puppets who preach about the Creators' Spawn will help her."

Gabriela inched forward, the movements of her body mirroring that of a wolf’s right before it pounced. Her head lowered, her hands curving into claws as she smiled, showing every tooth in her mouth. Well, it was more a snarl than a smile.

Tate sighed and pushed her sleeves up higher, uncovering Ilith. The little dragon was awake and perched on Tate’s forearm, her legs drawn under her, head up and tail whipping like a cat’s when it was contemplating its prey. She looked like a tattoo given movement on the canvas of Tate’s skin. Tate got an itchy feeling beneath her skin when she saw it. Especially since she could feel the dragon’s movements.

“You know, it would have been nice if you’d apologized. It was your friend who ran into the child.” Dewdrop snorted behind her, knowing full well she only ever referred to him as a child when she was trying to make someone feel guilty of something. “Instead you accuse him of thievery. Why is it that everyone we run into in this city wants to pick a fight with us?”

Night didn’t answer, remaining focused on the potential enemies.

“I think it’s your lack of charming personality,” Dewdrop told Tate seriously. “You’re like sandpaper. You just rub people the wrong way.”

“I take offense to that. I am very charming.”

“Umi.”

“She was a deluded, love sick fool intent on betraying her people and destroying a peace treaty. It would have been more worrisome if she had found me charming, because it would mean I was the kind of charming that appealed to traitors and cowards.”

“The Red Lady.”

“Psychotic doesn’t count.”

“Lucius.”

“Hey,” Tate said with outrage. “Lucius found me very charming.”

Dewdrop gave her a get real look. “He knocked you unconscious and threw you in a cell.”

“But he didn’t kill me.”

“I’m sure if you’d given it time he would have.”

Tate scoffed. Internally, she conceded Dewdrop might have had a small point. She still wasn’t sure if Lucius would have kept her alive once he’d gotten what he wanted from her.

Gabriella crept forward, each step a precise movement, as if she was stalking prey in the wild.

Dewdrop shifted, his hand moving to the knife he kept at the small of his back.

“Gabriella. Enough,” Sunshine said, his eyes half lidded with amusement as he took in Tate’s arm. “She’s Dragon-Ridden. The emperor would not be pleased if you damaged one of his pretty lizards.”

Lizard? Ilith thought, her mental voice rife with outrage. Her tail whipped violently.

Tate was happy with the name if it meant there wasn’t going to be a brawl in the middle of the park. Doubly so if it meant she didn’t have to move any more than was necessary with all this sweat dripping off her.

Great Saviors, she thought her sweat was sweating at this point. How could these four summon the energy to discuss anything but hitting the nearest ice house?

“That’s a nice pet you’ve got there,” the older man said, nodding to Night. “How much?”

Tate fought her knee jerk reaction of calling the man’s ancestors into question. She’d learned it was one of the worse insults you could offer. It was a close thing. Night was not a pet, and she did not like people referring to him as such.

“He’s not a pet.”

She cared a lot less about these people taking offense than she had a few minutes ago.

“Are you sure? We’d be willing to compensate you for any expenses you may have incurred while acquiring him.”

Tate had to physically bite her tongue to prevent her from saying what she really thought.

Night’s whiskers relaxed and his ears returned to their normal slightly forward cant. He came out of his semi crouch and padded over to Tate with a loose-limbed saunter.

We should get moving. Ryu really hates it when we’re late.

Tate took a deep breath. “I agree. Wasting any more time here just delays getting out of this sun. They have nothing to say that I need to hear.”

“If you change your mind, call on our main home and ask for Lennart,” the older man said.

Tate stepped forward, ready to shove her way through if they tried to block her. She figured the guard could run for help if it came down to a fight. She didn’t think it would. Sunshine and the older man had already stepped to the side. Olav joined them reluctantly.

Gabriella was the last to move, using her greater height to glare down at Tate. It might have been intimidating if Tate hadn’t been irate over the implication that her friend was a pet. She met Gabriella’s gaze with flinty eyes and lifted one eyebrow as if to say ‘go on. Test me.’

Gabriella held her eyes for a long second before she snorted, a soft laugh escaping her. “Very well, little lizard. Have it your way.”

Tate passed, the others following after her. That had gone a lot better than she had imagined. She’d half thought she would need to draw on Ilith to get herself and her friends out of that situation. That would have had unappealing consequences since Ryu had expressly forbid her from taking Ilith’s form.

“You realize they were Silva, don’t you?” Dewdrop asked, his voice even and utterly calm.

Tate hadn’t. Her lack of memories meant she was often left clueless about things everybody else treated as common knowledge. Dewdrop knew this, which was why she appreciated how he’d pointed that little tidbit out without making a big deal of it.

“Yup.” The tone of her voice made it clear she hadn’t.

He looked down but not before Tate saw the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He’d never admit it, but she knew he enjoyed being useful. Helping Tate navigate the often-treacherous waters of social situations in Aurelia was a task he’d taken on.

A realization struck Tate. She’d angered the Kairi with that incident concerning the fulcrum a few weeks ago. Now it seemed as if she’d just antagonized the Silva.

She stopped walking, the others stepping around her easily.

“Crap.”

“Now she gets it,” Dewdrop said wryly.

Just what she needed, to piss off another major faction that made up the fabric of Aurelia.

It’s not so bad, Night said, his feline face showing a lot of amusement for someone who shouldn’t be able to mimic human expressions. I think they were impressed that you stood up to them. I got the sense that most don’t. The man liked it that you didn’t try to sell me.

Tate looked at him skeptically. “Really, I didn’t pick up on any of that.”

Now he looked smug. Maybe you should pay more attention.

That said, he followed the guard into the impressive three story brick building they had stopped in front of. The guard held the door with a suitably bland face as Night slunk past him.

“More like I need an increased ability to smell,” Tate muttered.

“Enhanced eyesight and hearing might be useful as well,” Dewdrop chimed in.

She laughed and followed him into the building.

Ryu’s office, for lack of a better word, was on the third floor. Mostly, it was a place he took over when he wanted somewhere to think. There was a desk but he was never behind it. Every time Tate had managed to get called into these scolding sessions, as she liked to call them, he was sprawled on the sofa, taking up the whole thing. Since there were no other chairs in the room except the one behind the desk, she was forced to take the lecture standing up.

Not this time. This time she was going to figure something else out.

She stepped through the doorway and had much of the wind knocked out of her sails. For once, Ryu was seated behind the desk, a stack of papers in front of him. He looked up when she entered. There were even chairs in front of the desk. She fought not to gape at them. Where had those come from, and why hadn’t they been there before?

The room was large and airy with a high ceiling and large windows. If Tate hadn’t associated the room with sharp words and having to bite her tongue from saying what she really thought, she might have called it comfortable. The sort of place that invited you to sit and stare out the window. Maybe read a book.

On one side of the room was a built-in book case with a globe in front of it. The one time she’d been early and Ryu had been away on some task, she’d spent several minutes spinning that globe and tracing the continents and islands it showed. None of them were familiar. None called to her, but she found the thing fascinating regardless.

“You look parched,” Ryu said, his intense eyes on her. “Have a drink.”

Tate eyed the pitcher of water and glasses on one of the side tables. She knew he hadn’t called her here to ensure she was properly hydrated.

“Water!” Dewdrop cried, making a beeline for the pitcher. Given the speed with which he moved, you would think he hadn’t had anything to drink in days.

He poured himself a cup and then got a bowl off the tray and poured some water into it. He set the bowl in front of Night, who was already waiting by his feet. Then he proceeded to gulp the entire glass of water down, not stopping until it was empty. He poured himself another.

“Daniel.” Ryu’s voice was even. “Pour some for Tate as well.”

Tate blinked at the name. It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to Dewdrop. She’d known his name, it was just she almost exclusively referred to him as Dewdrop. She’d called him that since the first time they’d met. His face was so young, as fresh as the morning dew on a flower. It had stuck—to the point that even once he’d given her his name, she had still called him Dewdrop. He seemed to like it. Ryu was the first person she’d heard refer to him as Daniel.

“Yes, Daniel. Pour me a glass.”

Dewdrop paused, eyeing her over his glass, knowing her well enough by now to guess what she was thinking.

“You don’t usually call me Daniel.”

“No, I don’t.”

He set his glass down, picking up another and pouring some water into it, his face pensive.

“I like the name Dewdrop.” He gave her a shy smile while handing her the glass.

Tate took the glass and took a sip. “Good. I don’t think I could remember to call you Daniel after all this time.”

But she would have tried if he wanted her to.

“Naw, it’s like having a street name. Even if it doesn’t inspire fear in the hearts of my enemies.”

Tate hid a grin as she took a sip of her water. He’d been talking to Night. She remembered that exact complaint when she’d given him the name of Night instead of referring to him as 1162, the name his creators had given him.

“It’s an excellent way to disarm your enemy’s defenses. They’ll never expect to be taken down by someone with a name like Dewdrop.”

It’d be better if they never tried anything. Night finished lapping up his water and prowled to the chairs before sprawling on his side. If he had a fierce enough name, they would never mess with him to begin with.

Tate arched an eyebrow at him. “And did you have any suggestions for this fierce name?”

Night started grooming his paws, licking them and then rubbing his face against them.

She took that as a sign that no, he didn’t have any suggestions. Of course, that might be because the last time he’d decided to suggest a name change for himself she’d laughed herself silly.

Tate glanced down at Ryu’s overcrowded desk, puzzled. It was normally uncluttered. The most she’d ever seen on its surface was a journal and a pen. Today, there was a stack of papers piled in front of Ryu. An even bigger pile sat next to his elbow. Other objects lay all over the desk—each more interesting than the last.

Tate felt a tug of recognition and she stepped forward. One in particular drew her attention. It was oblong, black with some type of material on a third of it. The item’s name drifted just at the edge of her subconscious.

Ilith, do you recognize this?

Ilith was busy making eyes at Ryu’s dragon.

Ryu, like Tate, was Dragon-Ridden. Something she’d discovered only after months of him spying on her. The empire tried to control who became Dragon-Ridden and had rules in place to prevent the wrong type of person from bonding with a dragon. He’d had to make sure she really had no memory of how she came to be in possession of a dragon before he revealed himself.

Ilith.

What? Her dragon snapped.

Do you recognize that item?

Ilith pulled her attention from the other dragon reluctantly and looked at the items on the table.

No. She went back to flirting with Ryu’s dragon.

Are you sure? Tate asked again, knowing her dragon could be flighty when Ryu and his dragon were involved.

Ilith used Tate’s eyes to take a closer look.

I’m sure. I don’t know what they are.

Tate fought a sense of disappointment. That didn’t mean anything. Ilith may not have been part of Tate when she had interacted with these.

Tate pointed at the objects. “What are these?”

“Something associated with a task I’m thinking of undertaking.” Ryu frowned.

She picked up the object that fascinated her and almost dropped it as it lengthened to the size of her arm.

“Whoa. That’s not something you see every day,” Dewdrop said behind her.

He took the object from her and frowned when it compressed itself back to its original size.

“How’d you get it to do that?”

Tate shrugged and took the object back, fascinated as it grew. “I have no idea.”

Ryu was staring at her like he had never seen her before. She set the object back down on his desk, thinking he might have been upset she started touching things without permission.

“No one who has touched that has been able to create any sort of reaction from the artifact,” Ryu said, considering her. She didn’t know if he was pleased or pissed-off that she had made it react. “To be truthful, we were considering these either duds or excellent forgeries.”

The word artifact made Tate think that the item may have been recovered from one of the expeditions the Academy funded to uncover the knowledge and artifacts left behind by the Saviors. Most expeditions involved a lot of stumbling around in the tunnels under Aurelia hoping to uncover a previously unknown chamber or passageway.

Despite the countless adventurers who had gone exploring in the underground labyrinth, the tunnels still had many secrets to give up.

“You sure you can’t be persuaded to tell me a little bit about these?” Tate asked, resisting the urge to pick up the artifact she’d touched earlier. She wanted to know everything about it.

“It depends.”

Tate gave him a quizzical look. “I’m listening.”

“How about you tell me why I received an irate call from Instructor Daiske this afternoon?”

Tate had forgotten about that. The artifacts had distracted her from the events in class. She made an expression of distaste and stepped back from his desk. “Whatever that lackwit said, it’s not my fault. I was just trying to follow his instructions.”

Ryu’s impossibly blue eyes sharpened on her. “How is cracking a summoning circle not your fault?”

Tate grimaced. That tattletale.

Dewdrop cackled behind her. “You should’ve seen Daiske’s face. He looked like someone had just goosed him.”

Ryu didn’t react to that statement, pinning Tate with his eyes. He had the ability to make her feel about two inches tall with just a slight shift of expression. It never failed to put her on the defensive.

“I was just doing what he told me to do. How was I supposed to know that it would break the circle? It’s not like anyone told me that was a possibility. I’ve never heard of something like that happening.”

“She pretty much destroyed the floor,” Dewdrop volunteered.

Tate elbowed him and then gave him a ‘what are you doing’ look.

He rubbed his side and pinched her. She batted his hand away.

“Be that as it may, Instructor Daiske is now calling for your expulsion,” Ryu said, his dark gaze enigmatic as he watched their byplay. Again he seemed more thoughtful than frustrated, which was the emotion Tate often engendered in him.

She gave him a look, unsure how to take the fact that he wasn’t already lecturing her on how important it was that she make this work. That she pay attention and learn what they were trying to teach her.

“Did you finish the summoning?” Ryu asked.

Tate thought back. “I thought I had but nothing appeared in the circle.”

“It’s possible the circle breaking destroyed the link,” Ryu said. It didn’t sound like he was talking to them anymore, rather it sounded like he was thinking out loud. “Those circles are capable of handling level four elementals. Anything bigger would have created a snap back”

He fell silent as he pondered things that Tate and Dewdrop weren’t privy to.

“For now, I feel its best that we pull you from the Academy temporarily.”

Tate felt relieved. Some of her classes were worthwhile, teaching her things she needed to know. Though, she could do without the barely restrained hostility of the students and teachers. Maybe this would give her time to find work. Maybe put a little money away so that Dewdrop and Night weren’t quite so tempted to take side jobs with Ryu.

“I’ll arrange for private tutors to continue your lessons until we can smooth over this incident.”

“What? No.”

Dewdrop snorted as Tate protested.

“You have a better idea?” Ryu asked.

Tate’s mouth opened and shut a few times, her gaze darting from Ryu to Dewdrop to his desk. She had nothing. No ideas. No thoughts.

There must be something.

“What about that task you were considering?” she said, pointing at the artifacts. “Let me do it instead.”

“You? You don’t even know what it entails.”

She shrugged. She didn’t care as long as it wasn’t being stuck in another room with people who barely tolerated her.

“Then tell me. I can figure it out.”

“You are qualified for this. He actually asked for your help originally, but I didn’t think you’d be interested.” Ryu’s face was thoughtful as he folded his hands in front of him. “First things first, though. I summoned you.” His attention turned to Dewdrop and Night. “I find it odd that you two decided to accompany her given you had a task to do.”

Dewdrop shrugged. He usually took the lead when they were dealing with people other than Tate. “Don’t get all huffy. We finished the task. We thought it’d be more interesting to tag along with Tate than go home.”

Ryu gave him a long look and then glared at her. His features were stern and too rugged to be considered handsome. There was a slight bump on his nose and a little scar bisected his left eyebrow.

“This is your fault. He wasn’t this mouthy when you first picked him up.”

Tate smothered a sigh. He was right. Dewdrop was antagonistic, but he rarely got that way with anyone he felt could hurt him. Ryu could break him without even standing up. Seemed she was rubbing off on Dewdrop in more than one way. She’d have to have a talk with him later. There was only room for one smart mouthed idiot in this relationship. Someone had to be the diplomatic one and the Saviors knew it was unlikely to be her.

She sometimes wondered if she had been this mouthy in her previous life—the one she couldn’t remember—or if it was a result of having lost all her memories and needing to compensate by being as defensive and ornery as possible.

“Back to this job,” Tate tried. “I would expect payment.”

Ryu flapped a hand in agreement.

Tate narrowed her eyes—this was a little too easy. Why did it feel like this was exactly what Ryu had intended when calling her in here?

She needed the money, true. Dewdrop had been right before. Her savings from working with Jost were vanishing at an alarming rate. Everything in Aurelia cost twice what it would have in another town. Even with Night and Dewdrop helping her with the rent for the room at Colton’s Place and pitching in for food, she wouldn’t last much more than a week or two.

Ryu had offered to give her money in the past, but she just couldn’t bring herself to take it. That would feel unsettling close to charity to her. It would also make her feel beholden to him, something she would prefer to avoid for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

Payment for doing a job for him was an entirely different matter. She didn’t mind receiving money for services rendered. Especially since getting a job while attending classes was near impossible. Not the least of which because Daiske forbade any of his students from taking work without his approval. Which he refused to give to her. She’d already asked.

Which left more illegal means. That wasn’t an option since the Night Lords demanded allegiance if you wanted to work on the wrong side of the law. She had no interest in getting tangled up with any of them again.

Ryu tapped the desk with one finger. Her eyes were drawn to the dragon that inched its way up his neck, peeking over the collar of his shirt to stare at her

Ilith sent her a pulse of warmth and let out a rumble that sounded very like a cat’s purr. She didn’t have Tate’s reservations about Ryu and his dragon. She liked both. Every time they saw the other two, Ilith acted like a cat in heat, the traitorous brat. If she’d had physical form at the moment, she’d be rubbing herself against Ryu like he was catnip.

Tate didn’t know if it was because Ryu and his dragon were the first bonded pair that they’d met or if it was because Ilith actually liked them.

Ryu’s dragon fluttered its wings at the sight of Ilith and crawled higher on Ryu’s neck. His wings stretched up onto Ryu’s jaw and cheek. The dragon was beautiful with red, black and gold scales. He looked bigger than Ilith, but it was hard to tell without seeing him in the physical world.

Tate had been unconscious the one and only time Ilith had transformed, so she didn’t know how big her dragon was either.

“Are you sure about this?” Ryu asked.

Was she? No. Yes.

“How many hours would a private tutor expect to meet?” she asked.

“At least double that of what you were spending at the Academy.”

“I’ll do the job.” She couldn’t take any more sitting and waiting. Anything was better than that.

“Jost will be pleased.”

Wait. What?

“Jost? What does he have to do with this?”

Jost was the captain of the Marauder, the pirate ship Tate had sailed with for several months after being discovered trying to survive in the isolated Northern Reaches. Turned out that Jost was less of a pirate and more of a privateer for the empire.

Their relationship had been strained since Tate learned he’d been spying on her and had only allowed her to join his crew under the empire’s orders. She’d thought he kept her on board because he thought she could be an asset; not because she was a pawn. It also hadn’t helped that he’d chosen following the empire’s orders over helping her during the fulcrum incident.

She’d forgiven him, understanding what it was to be loyal to something bigger than yourself and how that loyalty could lead you to hurting the people around you by simply following orders—but she hadn’t forgotten.

“You’d be working with him.”

“I didn’t realize he was back.”

“He got into port a few days ago.”

Tate nodded. “On the other hand, a tutor would help me shorten my time at the Academy.”

“Too late, you already agreed.” Ryu gave her a cunning smile. “Unless you want to spend the next three months with Daiske as your private tutor all day. Every day.”

Tate shuddered. “I doubt he’d agree to that. He hates me.”

“Hate is such a strong word. Extreme dislike is probably closer to the truth. And you’re right, he should have prepared you better for summoning. As your tutor, he can rectify his mistakes.”

Tate glared at Ryu. “What will I be doing for Jost?”

Ryu’s face lightened as a real smile dawned. It would, since he’d effectively won their little skirmish. Why did Tate have the feeling this was his plan from the beginning?

“He’s acting as a mediator and trying to negotiate a peaceful accord between several sides.”

“Sounds diplomatic. Not something I would think he’d be interested in.”

Ryu shrugged. “His skills are many and he likes controlling the outcome of a thing. This is right up his alley.”

She studied him. He seemed entirely too satisfied with the turn of events.

“How long have you been planning this?” Tate asked him.

He gave her a wicked look, his eyes glinting with mischief. Tate sighed. That’s what she thought. She just hoped this wasn’t as dangerous as the last time she’d gotten roped into one of his ‘easy’ jobs.

Chapter Three

“So much for not working for Ryu,” Dewdrop said as they stepped onto the street.

Tate ignored him and kept moving. Ryu, despite his promise to tell her all he knew about the artifacts, had said Jost would inform her of the specifics of the mission. Tate wasn’t happy, but she’d accepted it after he said she was excused from all classes until the completion of her task. That was enough of an incentive for her to take the job. Daiske would probably be over the moon when he was told.

Night prowled at their side keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Thought you liked working for Ryu. You’ve been doing jobs for him.” Something she still wasn’t happy to learn about.

“Easy jobs that mainly consist of following someone or waiting and reporting back when someone arrives at or leaves a particular location. Nothing like this.” Dewdrop waved his hand. Tate doubted he even knew what he was gesturing at. “Do you remember what happened last time? I was kidnapped. The Red Lady put a collar around my throat. You almost died. Those Kairi did die.”

“I remember.” Tate’s voice was grim. She had nightmares of those events. Things had been closer than she would have liked. If Ilith hadn’t decided to make her presence known and felt, Tate had no doubt she would have died along with the Kairi boy she was trying to save, and a terrible weapon would have fallen into the hands of some very bad people.

“So why would you want to get involved with him again?”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” she snapped.

“Really? Because to me it sounded like you couldn’t wait to jump on board with his plan,” Dewdrop shot back.

It was the artifact. You think it might have something to do with your past.

Tate shot a look at Night. He looked back, his face calm and his ears upright. That meant he wasn’t angry. At least that’s how Tate chose to interpret his expression.

“The artifact? The one that changed shape?” Dewdrop asked.

“Yes. The one that changed shape.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “And everything.”

“That’s not mysterious or anything.”

She gave him a dark look. Her sarcasm was definitely rubbing off on him. Now she saw why so many people lost their calm when they dealt with her.

“I recognized it. It was familiar.”

It also worked for you when it hasn’t for anyone else.

“That too,” Tate said.

Dewdrop sighed. “I know how much you want to regain the memories you lost, but helping Ryu on a highly dangerous mission is probably not the best way to do it.”

“Why not? Last time I helped him, I found out my real name. Who is to say I won’t find out more this time?”

“Tate,” Dewdrop said plaintively.

“This is inevitable. The classes on politics and military strategy. The lessons with weapons and magic. People in Aurelia, the government in Aurelia, don’t do this kind of thing out of the goodness of their hearts. They’re grooming me for something.”

Dewdrop didn’t disagree. They both knew that her being Dragon-Ridden was something the empire felt the need to turn to their benefit.

“This way I’m at least getting something out of it. Jost is a known entity. I’ve worked with him before. He’s good at what he does and is less likely to betray me.”

“Jost? The pirate”

“He’s a privateer.”

“That’s pretty much just a fancy way of saying pirate.”

Tate ignored that statement.

“I do this, and maybe it’s a little easier to say no next time. At the very least I might get a lead on why someone stuck me in that capsule.”

Dewdrop’s sigh was full of angry frustration. He knew she was right. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.

Tate didn’t feel a sense of accomplishment at getting him to see her point. She shared his reservations. If it was up to her, she’d tell Ryu to shove it before taking the first ship out of port. There was nowhere in this world that she could run. Nowhere she could hide that the empire or its enemies wouldn’t pursue her.

Not now. Not when she knew so little about this world and its possibilities. Maybe when she had more information or when she knew more about herself and her abilities. Until then she was stuck having to make this work.

This wasn’t a realization she’d come to just then. She’d thought on this for weeks, months.

“Fine.”

Tate snorted. “Now that I have your permission, I have to go meet Jost.”

“We’re coming with.” He hurried to catch up as her long strides took her down the street.

“No.” It was still ungodly hot out so there were few people to slow them down as they made their way toward the black cliffs overlooking the Lower city and port.

“Yes, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“Don’t you have a job to do for Ryu?”

“We just finished it. We won’t take another until yours is done.”

Night huffed in agreement.

*

The city up here was beautiful. Expensive houses hid behind tall ornate fences. Most had some type of yard, but the truly expensive places, the ones that just screamed of ridiculous wealth, sat on estates that would have fit ten to twenty buildings from the Lower city.

The air smelled of roses with just a hint of the salty ocean. The streets were well kept and shone almost blinding white in the afternoon sun.

The walk to the elevator didn’t take long. They joined the short line waiting for passage down. The wait wasn’t long now, but if someone came in the morning or evening, they could find themselves waiting up to a couple of hours. It’s why Tate mostly stuck to the hill path in the west half of the city. It was steep and added time to her journey, but she didn’t have to get up before the sun to use it.

The operator gestured to their group as one of the three elevators disgorged its passengers.

Tate and her friends stepped forward. People eyed them as they made their way onto the elevator, leaving a wide berth around them. Tate saw a spot against the glass wall on the far side and made a beeline towards it, ignoring the way several of the passengers pressed against each other to get away from Night.

Metal clanged as the doors slammed shut and the elevator jolted into its descent. The first time Tate had ridden in this thing, she'd been convinced it was a death trap just waiting for the right moment to send her plummeting to her death.

She was still half convinced of that. The elevator looked like something that had been in use since the Saviors liberated the world from the Creators. However, the view almost made her possible death worth it.

The Lower city and the port spread out before her like a present. The bay formed a crescent moon before opening into the great wide sea. Everything seemed so small from up here. She understood why artists the world over journeyed to this city to paint its ever-changing views. She had zero artistic ability, but whenever she was confronted with the splendor of nature, she felt an insane urge to capture the moment for eternity.

The three of them were silent as they rode the elevator down, Tate lost in the view and Dewdrop in his thoughts. Night laid down and rested his head on his paws, closing his eyes to take a mini nap.

After a ten minute ride they disembarked with the rest of the passengers and continued on their trip.

The buildings down here were mostly made of wood and plaster and were small and narrow. The denizens of the Lower tended to build higher not wider as space was limited by the harbor in front and the cliffs in back.

Their destination, the Crow’s Nest, was a little two story inn near the harbor that Jost and his crew liked to frequent when they were in town. Tate looked up at the inn’s sign, noting that the o and the t were still missing. She was glad to see some things hadn’t changed.

“We going in here?” Dewdrop asked.

He didn’t look too impressed with the place. Tate was surprised, given he’d probably stayed in much worse places during his years as a pickpocket. The place wasn’t that bad. She looked at it again. Well, as long as you ignored the stains on the wall and the sound of glass breaking inside.

“It’s not that bad. When I stayed here last time, the food was good and the mattresses had no fleas.”

“How reassuring.”

She stepped inside, ignoring the sarcastic comment. Her eyes took a moment to adjust from the bright afternoon sun to the interior. The inn, in addition to accepting lodgers, also served a mean Flaming Lips drink, which Tate knew from experience could knock a man on his ass.

She looked around, ignoring the patrons at the bar and focusing on the tables. Jost wouldn’t sit at the bar when there was business to be conducted. Too easy to be overheard. With the endeavors he typically engaged in, it was never good to spread your business to prying ears.

Many of the tables around the perimeter of the room were not immediately visible from the doorway. Tate moved deeper into the room, scanning the darkened corners.

Jost and Danny waited at a table in the back, one that had a familiar blue flower on it signifying it was a table with a sound barrier around it.

Jost was a tall man, tanned a deep brown by the sun. His brown eyes were sharp in a face that had a roguish handsomeness. It was the kind of face that could tempt someone for a walk on the wild side—charismatic and commanding, with just a hint of that thing mothers have been warning their daughters against since the dawn of time. He was older, mid-forties, but that just seemed to add to his charm.

He gave her a nod, indicating she should join him.

She paused and looked at Dewdrop.

“I’m not waiting here,” he told her.

So stubborn. She couldn’t bring herself to be too mad. It would be nice to go into this with someone who had her back. She trusted Jost, but she knew where his true loyalty lay. If the chips were down, he’d pick the empire over her.

“Fine, but let me do the talking.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to insult the Marauder’s captain. He’s friends with the Luciuses. I’ve heard plenty of stories about what he does to people.”

He might have heard the stories, but Tate had seen him in action.

Night flicked one ear as if in agreement.

Guess that settled it. They were all going to attend this meeting.

The two followed her as she headed for the table.

“Jost.”

“Tate.” Jost seemed amused by her one word greeting.

“I hear we’re going to be working together again.”

“Are you going to be able to handle that?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked. “You don’t have any further orders to spy on me or throw me to the wolves, do you?”

Danny grimaced, remembering the conditions under which Tate had departed the crew. She was glad to see he had some regret.

She’d counted Danny as a friend before she’d jumped ship. He was a large man, packed with muscles, who towered over Tate when standing. His shaggy black hair and thick beard over a square jaw hid someone Tate had always viewed as a gentle giant. She still thought of him that way, but she was beginning to suspect he could be just as dangerous as Jost. He’d have to be to survive in the crew as long as he had.

“Not at this time.”

Which was to say that if he got another set of orders to that affect, he would follow them. Good to know. Tate appreciated the warning.

“Then there’s no problem.”

She dropped into a seat across from Jost. Dewdrop settled in at her side and Night collapsed in a heap at their feet.

The background noise from the room dropped to a muted roar, the sound dampener doing its job. Dewdrop raised his eyebrows at the change but didn’t comment. He wore his serious expression, the one that said thoughts were moving behind that young face. The kind of thoughts that belonged on a much more jaded, older version of himself.

“Ryu didn’t give me a lot of details. He said you’d fill us in when we got here.”

Jost gave her an amused look and arched an eyebrow at Dewdrop and Night. “Us? I don’t recall there being an us.”

“There is now,” Dewdrop said.

Jost gave him an assessing look, cataloging everything at a glance. He kept whatever thoughts he had to himself and shot Tate a look.

She nodded. Things had changed. She wasn’t the homeless stray he’d picked up in the Northern Reaches. She had friends now.

Her stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard from the table next to them before she could say anything else. She put a hand to her stomach and grimaced. That wasn’t embarrassing or anything.

Night flicked an ear and lifted his head to give her a slow blink of his eyes. Dewdrop dropped his head and grinned down at his feet.

“Guess some things don’t change,” Jost said before turning and waving a waitress over.

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Tate told Danny when he raised both eyebrows at her.

It was now well past the midday meal. It was a little early for dinner, but Tate didn’t think her stomach would be quiet long enough for them to talk if she didn’t put something in it to shut it up.

The waitress appeared and gave the group a sweet smile. Tate hadn’t seen this one before. She was younger, looking to be eighteen or nineteen, with apple cheeks and brown hair tied back in a braid.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Does the cook have anything good today?” Dewdrop asked.

“His mutton roll was pretty tasty this morning. He also has a fish stew that he’s been simmering all day for the dinner crowd,” she told him.

“I’ll take the fish stew and a mutton roll,” Dewdrop said.

“I’ll take the roll and whatever they’re drinking,” Tate said.

“Same for me,” Dewdrop added.

“Make his a water,” Jost inserted.

Dewdrop’s head spun towards him, insult obvious on his face. “The water tastes like piss down here. I’m plenty old enough to be drinking.”

Jost gave him a level look, not impressed by his words.

Dewdrop shot her an outraged look. Tate shrugged at him, not wanting to fight Jost on this. He had weird rules, like not letting those he viewed as being too young drink. Dewdrop, with his young-looking face and short height, fell into that category.

Dewdrop crossed his arms and sat back as he fumed.

Not wanting her friend to get into trouble with his big mouth, Tate nodded at the waitress.

Night lifted his head and gave her a feline look.

“We’ll take a bowl of milk too,” Tate called after the departing woman.

Danny’s eyes dropped to the table hiding Night. Tate had a feeling that if this hadn’t been a business meeting he might have ducked under the table to get a better look at her companion.

“The company you keep has certainly gotten a lot more interesting since you left the ship,” Danny said with a friendly smile.

“It’s certainly better than keeping company with a bunch of pirates,” Dewdrop said.

Tate kicked him under the table and shook her head at him. If this was how he planned to behave for the rest of the meeting, she would have been better off leaving him behind.

He gave her a defiant look that changed to an apology at the set expression on her face.

“Aren’t you one of Lucius’s boys?” Jost asked with a considering look at Dewdrop.

“Used to be.” Dewdrop’s voice was slightly less antagonistic than before.

Jost arched one eyebrow. “You made enough to buy your way out of his crew?”

What’s this? Now it was Tate’s turn to have her eyebrow’s rise. She wanted to turn to Dewdrop and shoot a dozen questions at him. The way his shoulders rounded and he avoided looking at her told her there was more to this than an idle question from Jost.

If she was going to have Lucius coming after her because she’d absconded with one of his thieves, she would like to know before she woke up to men standing over her with knives.

But this wasn’t the place for this discussion. That could wait until they were away from prying eyes. Maybe somewhere behind locked doors where voices could be raised.

“Are we here to talk about Dewdrop’s past?” Tate asked in a bored voice. “If so, I think I’ll have to take my roll to go. I’ve got a busy schedule and all that. Places to be and people to see. You understand.”

Jost’s eyes flicked to her. He was not amused by her flippant tone. Danny hid a smile.

This meeting was not getting off to the best start. It did not say good things about the rest of this job.

“You’ve changed,” Jost observed.

“That tends to happen as time passes and people live through new experiences.”

It didn’t hurt that she was no longer on his ship and required to follow orders or show a modicum of respect. Jost wasn’t a bad captain. He was actually a good one—capable of inspiring a fierce loyalty in the men he commanded.

Tate admired him. She had no doubt she’d either be a savage existing moment to moment or dead if he’d left her where he’d found her. For that, he would always have her gratitude, even if his reasons for doing so had been a little less than altruistic.

Just because she liked him didn’t mean biting her tongue and following orders while working on his ship had been easy. It hadn’t. She’d done it, but it had been a continual struggle to suppress large parts of her personality.

Now that he wasn’t her captain, she was free to act in a manner truer to who she was.

Jost studied her for a moment, whatever he was thinking hidden behind an impenetrable mask of mild interest.

The moment was broken as the waitress set meals in front of Dewdrop and Tate.

“Anything else,” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“We’re good,” Tate said, trying not to salivate over her food. She was so hungry.

The waitress nodded and took off for her next table. Tate grabbed the bowl of milk and set it on the floor next to Night. His head popped up and he stuck a paw in the milk, licking it off, only to stick it in again.

Tate grabbed a fork, cutting into the flaky dough. The smell of spices and meat tantalized her taste buds. She stuffed a bite into her mouth, momentarily forgetting the tense conversation she’d been in the middle of.

So. Good.

The chef, Matthias if she remembered correctly, was damn good. She’d had a taste of his cooking the last time she’d stayed here, but had been too afraid of returning when she’d discovered the extent of Jost and her friends’ deception. She hadn’t wanted to run into anyone from the crew until she knew how she felt about them. There was also a faction of the crew that had led to her voluntarily abandoning ship. She thought it was best to avoid places they might frequent.

“Glad to see some things haven’t changed,” Danny observed. Of the crew, he’d been the closest to Tate. His loss had hurt the worst.

Tate paused between bites and gave him a sheepish look. “I really haven’t eaten since breakfast and that was only an apple.”

His amusement changed to concern. “You should be eating way more. Your bond with the dragon means you burn too much energy to be skipping meals.”

She hadn’t realized that the reasons she seemed to be able to eat twice that of a normal person was because of Ilith.

“You going to tell me about this job or am I just here for the free food?” Tate asked, giving Jost a sidelong glance.

He sighed and rubbed one hand across his face, looking resigned. “Finish your meal and then we’ll talk. I know how fixated you get when there’s food on your plate. Danny’s right. You need to be eating more.”

That worked for her. Tate went back to her meal, finishing everything on her plate long before Dewdrop made it half way through his.

“So, what’s this we’re supposed to be working on?”

And why did he want her in on it.

“There’s been a discovery.”

Of what? Islands? Fruit? Fuzzy insects?

“And that’s important why?”

“Because the last time there was a discovery of this magnitude it made this empire’s military more dangerous than any other country and elevated four families to the nobility.”

Pretty big discovery. Tate still wasn’t sure why she’d been called in or what exactly had been discovered.

“Tell me more.” She took a sip from her glass. The beer tasted nutty and mellow on her tongue. Not bad.

“Some of the archaeologists from the Aurelian Academy, with the financial backing of a few merchants and some of the nobility, stumbled on an underground chamber,” Danny said.

“In the tunnels under Aurelia?” Tate mentally begged him to say no. She didn’t want to go back down there. She had a fear of getting stuck down there, forever wandering aimlessly. She’d come very close to dying the last time she went into the tunnels. Her dragon also didn’t like being locked away from the sun.

“No, at least we don’t think so.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

Jost’s smile was humorless. “That’s part of why we’ve been called in.”

Tate waited, knowing they’d explain when ready.

“We don’t think it’s connected to the tunnels, but there’s so much unknown about them that they may well be connected in some way we don’t know about yet. From what I’ve been able to gather, the site is located in a separate, mini tunnel system around a main chamber.”

“Here?” Tate suspected it wasn’t. The honeycomb of tunnels under Aurelia were all interconnected. Hundreds of miles of tunnels sandwiched on top and next to each other. So many that even after centuries of exploration, the archeologists still hadn’t managed to map all of them. Of course, that could also be because of the denizens of the tunnels. Monsters left behind by the creators who were not opposed to eating people.

“About twenty miles down the coast,” Jost said.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“There are three different sects that have put in a claim.”

“Sounds complicated.”

Still didn’t answer the question of why her presence had been requested. The entire situation sounded like something Ryu would be involved in. Not a brand-new Dragon-Ridden who had only managed to change forms once.

“It is, especially given the current political climate in Aurelia.”

“Oh?” Tate wasn’t always up to date when it came to political climates or really what the world at large was up to.

“The factions are at each other’s throats. One match and the city could go up in flames.”

“Sounds like a job for the Lord Provost’s men,” Tate said. She really didn’t want the well-being of the city resting on her shoulders. She’d almost sent it into war the last time she’d been responsible for something big like this.

“Which is why I’m involved,” Jost said.

Tate sputtered. “You? Law enforcement? In what world?”

“I’m a duly appointed mediator, authorized by the emperor to act in matters such as these.”

“Huh.”

Would wonders never cease? Tate felt like her entire world view had tilted and now she was seeing it upside down. Pirates as mediators. Authorized by the emperor no less. She’d known Jost was an agent of the empire, but she’d thought it was a side gig—something he did so he wasn’t arrested and thrown to the hangman—but that his real interests lay in acting on the less legal side of things.

She took another sip of her beer to give herself time to think.

“What do you need me for? Sounds like you have everything in place.”

“There need to be two parties representing the empire in a situation like this. The mediator and what we call a witness. Someone to make sure that all parties act in good faith.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m qualified for.” Like, at all. It sounded like they needed someone else. Someone like Ryu.

“It’s something you are uniquely qualified for,” Danny inserted in a quiet voice.

Tate glanced at him. When Danny spoke, it was best to pay attention. He didn’t waste words on nonessential matters.

Her mind worked, turning over his words.

“Because I’m Dragon-Ridden.”

It was the only thing she could think of that might separate her from the rest. She doubted her faulty memory was the reason they wanted her on this. It was the only other thing that was truly unique about her. She was smart, but others were smarter. She was observant, but practically everyone on Jost’s ship was. No, that dragon was the only thing that set her apart.

Jost inclined his head. “Because of the sensitive nature of this matter, we need someone with status, but also someone who doesn’t have a vested interest in the outcome and who can appear impartial. You’re one of the few that fit both requirements.”

Tate could think of at least one other.

“And Ryu? Why isn’t he on this?”

“He will be around, but he has another mission. He won’t be able to focus on the mediation.”

If he was on his own mission but still involved on the peripheral, it meant there was more to this than a territory dispute. Despite herself, she was a little curious about exactly what he was working on. It seemed to her he wasn’t usually called in on things that weren’t of vital importance to the empire.

Dewdrop watched the two across from them, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’d been quiet since they started talking. He shot her a questioning look, asking silently what she wanted to do.

“What do you need from us?”

They were involved from the moment she told Ryu she’d take the job. There was also the little matter of the artifact. She wasn’t letting this go until she figured out why it seemed so damn familiar.

“We’re meeting with the concerned parties tomorrow for dinner. You’ll want to report to this address.” Jost nodded at Danny who slid a piece of folded paper over to Tate. She took it and read the address, handing it to Dewdrop for his take on it.

“Fancy part of town,” Dewdrop said, sounding impressed.

“Quite,” Jost said. He didn’t sound like he was happy about that.

Tate took the piece of paper back but still didn’t recognize the address. She couldn’t even pinpoint the part of town it was in.

“You’ll need to upgrade your wardrobe. Tate, you’ll need to wear a dress. A nice dress. One that you get from one of the seamstresses in the Upper,” Jost said, running over her objections. He tilted his head at Dewdrop. “He can be your manservant. That means he’ll need a uniform of some sort. Also, do something about that mop on his head.”

“Think again, old man,” Dewdrop snapped. “I’m no one’s servant. We’re partners and no one is going to tell us different.”

“Not for this. Not tomorrow. These people are on edge and looking for the slightest reason to walk away and start a mini war. We’re not going to give them any reason to refuse to work with us.”

“Don’t care. They can just deal. I’m not acting like some servant,” Dewdrop said, his lip curling in disdain.

Jost looked at Tate in an appeal for her to reason with her friend. She shrugged at him. She agreed with Dewdrop. She wouldn’t want to pretend to be subservient when she wasn’t. She wouldn’t tell him to act like one. It would damage the relationship they’d built.

“When you worked for Lucius, did he have you act in different roles to accomplish your task?” Seeing the answer on Dewdrop’s face, Jost continued, “You took advantage of your mark’s preconceptions to turn the situation to your benefit. This is no different. We are giving them a picture to buy. While Tate is busy drawing their attention, you will be using the built-in invisibility of that position to gather information and keep abreast of the situation in a way neither Tate nor I will be capable of.”

Dewdrop looked intrigued by Jost’s explanation. Tate was even a little enthralled. It sounded a lot more interesting than what he planned to have her doing.

“Like a spy?” Dewdrop asked.

Night lifted his head, his ears swiveling forward. Dewdrop wasn’t the only one interested in the answer.

Jost paused, his eyes assessing. This was the captain Tate was used to. The one who could read a person and manipulate them to the outcome he desired. She still wasn’t sure if she admired him for that ability or hated him for it.

“Exactly like a spy. You’ll gather information and then report back to Tate or myself on what you found.”

Tate shifted, not sure how she felt about Jost turning her teenage friend into a spy. Not that she had any choice in the matter. Dewdrop had made it clear from the beginning that he made his own decisions. Trying to tell him to sit this out would be impossible and only give her a mammoth headache.

She sighed. It couldn’t be much more dangerous than the work he’d been doing for Ryu.

“Alright,” Dewdrop said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Jost’s lips twitched, amused at Dewdrop’s cockiness.

Dewdrop held his hand out, palm up and curled his fingers in a ‘give me’ gesture. “Come on. Let’s see the money.”

Danny and Jost stared at him as if he’d just grown another head. Dewdrop rolled his eyes.

“You don’t think we’re going to pay for the clothes out of our money, do you? The kind of clothes you’re going to want her to wear don’t come cheap. She doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“What about the purse I gave you?” Jost asked.

Dewdrop snorted before Tate could answer. “Are you kidding? In Aurelia? That one’s got cubs.” Dewdrop nodded at where Night lounged on the floor. Night yawned, showing his sharp white fangs. “They eat twice their weight in meat. She’s on her last taros. You want us wearing fancy clothes and good uniforms, you pay for them. Otherwise you can be happy with what we show up in.”

Jost shot Tate a put out look as if he was expecting her to jump in and control her friend. She grinned at him and leaned back in her chair, enjoying the show. She was glad someone else was in the hot seat for once. Dewdrop was like a shark when it came to money, obsessing over every taro, rostry and stari. She was more than willing to let him negotiate the best deal for both of them.

“You’ve fallen in with a cutthroat money gouger, Tate,” Jost said in a sour voice.

“I have an eye for talent. I learned from the best.”

Danny grinned again. Not many dared beard Jost. He had a bit of a reputation for making life difficult for people who crossed him.

“Here.” Jost plopped a small purse in Dewdrop’s outstretched hand. “Get several outfits for you both. I don’t know how long this debacle is going to last. Best to be prepared.”

Tate and Dewdrop stood. Night rose as well, performing several stretches that Tate had seen cats around the city do.

“Tate,” Jost said as she turned to leave. She paused and glanced back at him. He looked at her with a somber expression. “I’m glad to be working with you.”

Tate hesitated. “It’s good to be part of the team again.”

And it was. She had missed several members of the crew. This gave her a piece of what she’d lost back. She wasn’t ready to forget everything that had gone before, but it was a step in the right direction.

Chapter Four

Night prowled by their sides as they headed for the hill that led back up to the Upper city. This time of the afternoon it would allow them to bypass the rush at the elevators. It wasn’t worth getting caught up in the crush, and walking would be just as fast if more tiring.

The heat had abated from stifling hot to just uncomfortably warm. Even the breeze off the water didn’t do much more than dry some of the sweat from her body.

Night walked them to the edge of the hill and then sat, his open mouth giving him the appearance of smiling. His expression of squinted eyes and open mouth was amusing on a creature that normally prided itself on its appearance.

You go ahead. I’ll head home to check on Pax and Willa. They’re probably running their keeper ragged by now.

“You just don’t want to make the climb,” Tate said.

He shut his mouth and gained his feet with a grunt. I’m too old to be gallivanting all over the city with you two during the day. My kind are nocturnal. This is prime sleeping time.

“I’m pretty sure any time is prime sleeping time for you.” Tate had caught him curled up on her desk last week around three in the morning, dead to the world. She might have never noticed except that his cubs had woken her by trying to climb into her bed because they couldn’t jump high enough to curl up with their dad on the desk.

It’s a good habit to get into. Night moved away from them in that long-limbed prowling walk that said he was too graceful for his body. You both should try it sometime.

“We should head to the Cliffside Market,” Dewdrop said as they turned to look up the hill. “It’s a bit of a hike from here, but they have a better selection of ready-made clothes that are nice enough to accomplish what Jost wants. It’s our best bet to have something done in time for tomorrow night.”

They started walking. Tate eyed the top of the long hill, the road up curving slightly so that it wasn’t just one long steep incline. In this section of the city, the buildings were built to accommodate the hill. As a result, several had staircases behind gates that led to colorful front doors.

The Hill, as it was called by most, was the line that divided the Upper and the Lower. The buildings were nice but didn’t have the jaw dropping beauty and cold grandeur of the Upper. The middle class chose to reside here, those with not enough rank or money to afford the sky-high costs above the cliffs.

Tate had gotten used to climbing the long hill during her morning walks to class, but even so, her legs protested as she made her way up. Dewdrop was quiet at her side as they moved along streets that were growing busier and busier as the evening hours neared.

They turned west as they crested the hill, walking along the cliffs until they reached the Cliffside Market. Tate had never visited this market, preferring the easy feel of the Little Harbor Market in the Lower. She also preferred their prices. Anything bought in the Upper was sure to come with an outrageous price tag.

Perched on the edge of the cliffs, the market offered unobstructed, breathtaking views of the harbor and ocean. She could see why the elite up here preferred a place like this to do their shopping.

The market was set up in two parts, one on exposed rock that spilled down toward the cliff in three tiers. The other was inside the stone hall towering high above the proceedings, giving the impression of air and open space.

“How do they keep people from falling over the side of the cliff?” Tate asked. She didn’t see any type of wall. It looked dangerous with booths perched right on the brink.

“They don’t,” Dewdrop said, already turning away from the cliff side of the market. “If you’re stupid enough to fall, then you deserve what you get.”

Tate raised her eyebrows. “Does anybody ever fall?”

“All the time. At least one every few months.”

“And they still have booths that close to the edge?”

He shrugged, not seeming concerned. “It’s a good spot to be seen by gawkers and the price isn’t as steep as it is inside.”

Seemed a little extreme to take your life into your hands to make a few sales.

“We’ll need to find one of the indoor seamstresses. Their stalls are permanent. They’ll have nicer clothes. If we’re lucky, someone didn’t pick up an order, and we’ll be able to get something already made.” Dewdrop nodded to the great arches marking the entrance of the indoor marketplace.

“Since when are you an expert on women’s fashion?” Tate asked.

He shot her a smile over his shoulder as he threaded his way through the crowd. “You pick things up when you’ve lived here as long as I have.”

It also probably helped to know the different sorts of people that visited places like this so you could plan the best spot to pick pocket them.

The Cliffside Market was very different than the Little Harbor Market. Where the Little Harbor was a patchwork quilt, Cliffside was an elegantly drawn painting. Tate didn’t know if it was because half of it was inside, but it wasn’t nearly as hectic as Little Harbor. Tate didn’t think it was just the time of day either. It just had that kind of feel.

The shopkeepers up here seemed the type to take their time, giving their undivided attention to their customers as they perused. There were also fewer shops. It was missing the disorganized chaos of the Lower city markets.

This was a place the powerful and wealthy came to do business and it showed. Even the tables were nicer than anything in the Lower city, each one a careful masterpiece of workmanship.

Dewdrop led her through the marketplace to a small boutique that was sandwiched between a jewelry shop and a shoe shop.

Walking in, Tate was amazed how the sound from the outer market immediately disappeared. She looked back to make sure doors hadn’t suddenly closed behind her. The bustle of the market was still visible, nothing separated the inside from the outside.

Sound dampeners. Had to be.

Pretty expensive for a place like this, but Tate guessed it made sense. It added to the illusion of privacy and luxury.

She turned and studied the room, impressed with what she saw. The floor was tiled slate with white fur rugs placed strategically around the room. There were displays of gloves and purses and several seamstress mannequins modeling the colorful clothing.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked, straightening from where she’d crouched behind a table as she sorted reams of cloth. Her face was set in a questioning expression. Her eyes darted between the two of them, no hint of the dismay about having two people, one with the look of a street urchin, who clearly didn’t belong in such a nice place as this.

Tate still wore the pants and shirt she’d had on for class. They weren’t bad, not having any holes and being freshly washed, but they weren’t the sort of attire that one wore to a place like this.

One garment in this place probably cost the same amount as her room in Colton’s Place for three months.

Dewdrop stepped forward when it was clear Tate had nothing to say for once. She couldn’t. This just wasn’t the sort of place she felt comfortable in. If she opened her mouth she was liable to say something that would insult the nice shopkeeper. She wouldn’t be able to help it. When she got nervous or stressed, weird things popped out of her mouth—most of which were insults or snide remarks. It was a defense mechanism to cover her uncomfortableness.

“Yes, my friend is looking for a dress to wear for a very important dinner tomorrow.”

The woman examined Tate, her eyes running up and down her figure. Tate had to fight the urge to fidget.

“A ready-made dress is less expensive than one that was made custom since it’s usually one that another customer has changed their mind about,” the woman said.

Dewdrop smiled. “We will probably want a few custom pieces if you can promise delivery in three days as well.”

“What?” Tate asked. She thought they were just here for the one dress. “No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. It’s unlikely this will be resolved in one night. You’ll probably have to work with them for a week or more. That means several changes of clothing.”

Tate grimaced. She’d known that, but somehow it hadn’t dawned on her that she would need more than one dress.

The woman gave Dewdrop an assessing look, having determined that he was the one in charge of this excursion. Tate was relieved. If she’d had to bargain, she probably would have made a mess of things and walked out with the most expensive and hideous outfit in the place. Dewdrop was better with people than she was, at least once he got past that chip on his shoulder. He’d be able to handle this.

“What’s your budget?” the shopkeeper asked.

Dewdrop gave her a sharp smile, one that looked odd on his young face. “More than enough to cover this.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. Coming to a decision she turned to Tate, “I have a changing room in the back where you can disrobe, and I can get your measurements. I’ll bring in a few dresses I think will work for you once I know what size I’ll be working with.”

She walked to a curtain and held it back, gesturing Tate inside. Dewdrop shoved Tate forward when she hesitated.

“I’ll be out here,” he told her. “I’ll need to see any dress that fits well enough.”

“Why do you need to see the dress?”

He gave her a flat look. “Because I don’t trust you to choose an appropriate one.”

That was exactly the sort of thing Ryu would have said had he been here.

“You get more and more like Ryu every day.”

Dewdrop flashed her a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t,” Tate grumbled as she followed the shopkeeper.

The changing room was done in shades of pale blue and yellow. It was a soothing place, designed to set people at ease as the shopkeeper fussed over them.

The shopkeeper directed her to disrobe and step onto a small elevated circle in the middle of the room. Tate took off her pants and shirt but left her under clothes.

It felt odd to be on display in nothing but her underwear in front of mirrors designed to show her from every angle.

The shopkeeper grabbed a measuring tape and directed her to hold her arms straight out from her sides. Tate complied.

The woman measured one arm and then paused on the arm that had Ilith crawling up it. She jerked when Ilith flicked her tongue out at her, like a lizard tasting the air. The woman’s eyes rose to Tate’s before she looked back at the dragon, currently rolling around on her back, displaying her belly for a rub as if she was a cat.

Tate waited for the inevitable questions. The ones that Ilith always seemed to garner. She wondered if the lady would refuse to work with her anymore. It was rare, but once in a while, Ilith inspired fear rather than awe. People evidently didn’t like dealing with someone who could turn into a dragon and eat them. Especially when that person was technically above the law and would not be punished for it.

The woman swallowed and then finished measuring her arm before taking measurements at her bust, waist and hips.

“You’re lucky that one of my customers is your size and decided she wanted the dress in a different color,” the woman said, stepping away from her and rolling up the tape.

Tate felt a small spark of respect. The shopkeeper was a professional.

“I’m sure whatever you have will be fine,” Tate said.

The woman made a thoughtful sound.

“What is the dress for? Your friend said it was for a dinner. Do you know who it is with?”

“No idea. I’m sure the other guests are pretty important. I’m working with a mediator and this is more his thing than mine.”

Her head jerked back. “You’re a witness?”

Tate thought about it. “Yes, I think that’s what it’s called.”

“Then you’re representing the emperor.” Her gaze turned distant.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Tate started.

“The dress should be nice enough. You should have come earlier. I would have had enough time to make you something that was more suitable.”

“I’m sure whatever you have will be fine.”

The woman’s face said she very much disagreed with that statement. “These other clothes, they’ll be used while executing your duties in the emperor’s name?”

Tate paused and gave her a frown. “I guess.”

She didn’t really know. She had a feeling Dewdrop was trying to take advantage of the situation and getting as much as he could.

To herself, the woman said, “The Laurens girl is about your size. I can take her order and just tweak it a little to suit. That might work.”

Tate’s eyes bulged. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Anything you have on hand will be fine.”

“No, it won’t,” the woman snapped. “This is the problem when someone is suddenly elevated to your status; they have no idea how important appearances can be. You’re like a blind person walking through a room filled with eggshells.”

Tate fought to keep her thoughts hidden. Clothes were not that important unless they prevented you from freezing.

The woman was sharper than Tate had given her credit for, picking up on Tate’s disgruntlement. “You disagree?”

Tate said, “They’re just clothes.”

“Saviors rescue me from naïve idiots,” the woman muttered. To Tate, she said, “They’re not just clothes. They’re a first impression. Once a person has formed an opinion of you, it is three times as hard to change.”

“You think clothes are more important than actions?”

“Not at all, but first impressions are rarely formed from actions. People look at you and form an opinion. Rich, poor, inept, professional. We do it all the time. Walking down the street, you can’t take the time to form an assessment of every person based on their actions. You look at their clothes, the way they walk, how they talk and from that information you make a snap judgment. With the right outfit, you can make it so you never have to work to gain a favorable opinion.”

There was some truth in the lady’s words, but Tate still wasn’t quite convinced. You might make a snap judgment about someone based on external factors, but the moment you got to know them a little better that opinion would be validated or invalidated based on actual evidence.

The woman’s lips twisted into a half smile. “When you stepped into this shop, what was the first thing to cross your mind?”

Tate thought about it as the woman sorted through several pieces of clothing she’d grabbed from one of the racks around the room.

“Quality.”

“And why did you think that?”

Why did she think that? She couldn’t point to any one thing.

“The sound dampener. The presentation.”

“So, you formed an impression based on what things looked like.”

“But my impression would have changed if you had acted differently.”

“But it would have taken more evidence to the contrary to get you to change your mind and assume your first impression was incorrect,” the woman said holding up a dark blue fabric to Tate. She nodded and set it aside before holding up a pink fabric. This time she shook her head and dropped it.

“Stay here,” the woman said. “I’ll grab the dress for you to try on.”

The woman was careful as she pushed her way through the curtain, making sure Tate wasn’t exposed to the other room. Tate stepped down off the platform and moved around.

A woman stalked through the curtain and came to an abrupt pause at the sight of Tate.

“Roslyn,” Tate said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I shop here. Ashwin has been making my dresses since I came of age.” Roslyn tilted her head, her eyes going to the dragon tattoo. “It’s true. You are one of the Dragon-Ridden.”

Tate touched the tattoo and moved back to her platform. She was surprised at the comment. She would have thought Roslyn had seen Ilith before. Then again, she supposed not. Ilith tended to nap when it was time for lessons and would often find her way to Tate’s back for her snooze fests.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“You are the first female to take a dragon,” Roslyn mused. She didn’t sound jealous, more like she was giving a recounting of facts.

“So it would seem.”

Tate was always uncomfortable when people pointed that piece of information out. As if they were saying that a woman shouldn’t have a dragon. Roslyn didn’t seem disapproving, though.

“How did you do it?”

“Why? Are you wanting your own dragon?” Tate shot back. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t remember how she came to be in possession of Ilith. The best way to avoid the question was to ask a few of her own. Ones designed to put her interrogator on the defensive.

“Yes. It had occurred to me to attempt a bond.” Roslyn’s voice was frank and her gaze direct. Tate’s answer was important to her, though Tate couldn’t fathom why. Roslyn’s family, from what Tate could tell, was powerful and wealthy. She didn’t need a dragon to gain acceptance. Her family lineage did that for her.

“Why? From what I understand, it’s highly dangerous. I’m told there hasn’t been a new bond in nearly a century.”

“With the exception of yours.”

Yes, there was that. Tate inclined her head.

“I have my reasons.”

That was illuminating.

“I’m sure you do,” Tate said, giving her a sharp smile. She had her reasons to keep her memory loss to herself. It wasn’t hard to find out for whoever did the research. Jost’s entire crew, along with Ryu, Dewdrop, Night and a few of the emperor’s men knew about the blind spot.

Roslyn’s lips parted. She got the message. Her face fell before she mastered her expressions and gave Tate a nod.

“Fair enough.”

It didn’t look like Roslyn was giving up, more like she was biding her time.

“What brings you to Ashwin’s?” Roslyn asked.

Tate didn’t see the harm in telling the truth. “I need a dress for a dinner tomorrow. I was told this is one of the few places that might be able to accommodate my needs on such short notice.”

“They’re right. Ashwin’s gowns are highly sought after by the nobility. She’s very picky about who she lets buy her dresses. You must have made a good impression on her.”

Given the conversation she’d just had with Ashwin, she doubted it. She rather believed it was Dewdrop’s smooth talking that had gotten them a foot in the door, and unless she missed her guess, it was the dragon that clinched it.

Before Tate could comment, Ashwin bustled back through the curtain, her arms overflowing with fabric. She stopped at the sight of the other two women.

“Roslyn, I didn’t expect you for several more hours.”

Roslyn’s expression warmed as she gave Ashwin a happy smile. Tate realized she had rarely seen the other woman look comfortable or relaxed.

“My classes were canceled early because a certain someone made a mess of the classroom.” Roslyn’s eyes moved to Tate.

“I was only doing as instructed.” Tate couldn’t argue with the assertion that it was her fault. That floor had been destroyed. No other word for it.

“You two attend classes at the academy together.” Ashwin’s sharp eyes moved between the two of them.

“Just some classes,” Tate said.

Roslyn didn’t spend her entire day at the Academy, only attending those classes that interested her, and Tate wasn’t a formal student. Just someone who attended the classes Ryu thought were necessary to round out her knowledge base.

Ashwin shot Roslyn a questioning look. Roslyn gave a small smile and asked, “Are those the dresses you think will work on her?”

“These are the best I have for now. Hopefully, one of these will do. I don’t have the time to make her something from scratch.” To Tate, she said, “I hope you fit in one of these because I don’t have time for extensive alterations either.”

Tate hoped so too as she’d planned to take the dress with her when she left. She doubted she would have time to run back to this side of the city tomorrow.

Ashwin herded Tate back to the podium and picked one dress from the pile before handing the rest to Roslyn. Tate stepped into the dress Ashwin held and then waited as Ashwin buttoned it up the back, cinching and tightening as she went.

Tate looked at the stranger in the mirror and frowned.

“This color suits you.” Ashwin stood back, her hands on her face as she looked Tate over with a critical eye. It was a deep green that set off Tate’s pale skin and copper colored hair.

Tate raised her arms and tried to bend at the waist. There was no give in the dress. It was more restrictive than a pious father protecting his daughter’s virtue

“This won’t work.” She wouldn’t be able to defend herself in case of attack, much less flee for her life if it was called for.

Ashwin ignored the comment. “What do you think?”

Roslyn cocked her head and frowned. “It is flattering but perhaps a bit too young.”

“Hm. Let’s try the next.”

Before Tate could protest, she found herself in another dress and then another until the ladies found one they could both agree upon. Neither one listened to Tate’s complaints, continuing as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

The dress they settled on was a soft blue and fitted snuggly through the bodice and waist. The bodice had a complicated interwoven pattern that turned the otherwise simple design into something unique and interesting. A sheer lace with blue detailing along the edges covered her shoulders giving the dress a sense of tongue in cheek modesty. The skirt flared out in a wide bell shape around Tate giving her the appearance of a fuller figure than she had.

The dress managed to make Tate seem soft and romantic. Two things she had never aspired to be.

They didn’t bother asking Tate’s opinion before they called Dewdrop in for the final approval.

He studied her with an intense gaze and tilted his head. “That’ll work.”

“No, it won’t. Look.” Tate tried to twist and turn, then mimicked throwing a punch. She could barely move and the skirt threatened to send her crashing to the ground when she took a step. “I wear this, and I’m dead as soon as we’re attacked.”

“I thought you were attending a dinner, not some back-alley brawl.” Ashwin’s voice held a sour note.

“There’s no reason it can’t be both,” Tate said. She knew her luck. The likelihood of her escaping the night without something happening was close to a fraction of a percent.

“She does have a point,” Dewdrop conceded. “She has the disturbing ability to happen on the weirdest circumstances.”

Tate gave Ashwin a look that said ‘see, I’m not nearly as crazy as you thought.’

“On the other hand, this dress gives you the presence you need. Nobody seeing you wearing it will assume you’re anything but a high-born lady. They’ll see you as fluff,” Dewdrop mused.

“I thought the point of this entire thing was to get them to respect me.”

“That too, but if we can get them to underestimate you, it would be even better.” He gave a nod. “Yes, I like this dress. It’ll do.”

Tate groaned.

The two ignored her as they got to haggling over the price of the dress.

“Make it double and I’ll throw in a few other dresses.”

“Pants, too.” Tate didn’t want to be stuck in a dress for the entire time. If she could get a pair of pants, she might be able to wear them if circumstances ever called for a good impression and the readiness to defend herself or others.

“High born ladies don’t wear pants unless they’re on a hunt,” Roslyn asserted.

Tate shot her a smile, one full of teeth. “Good thing I’m not a high-born lady, then.”

“Pants too,” Dewdrop said. “We find enough trouble that they’ll come in handy.”

“Those will take longer. I have nothing on hand.”

Dewdrop waved a hand. “That’s fine. You can deliver them to the same address as the rest of the extras. I’d like to take the dress she has on with us, though.”

Ashwin gave the dress Tate was wearing a critical once over. “It fits well enough. I doubt I could alter it anymore. I’ll get a bag to carry it in.”

Dewdrop clapped his hands together. “That takes care of that. Get changed so we can get to our other errands.”

“Yes, little dictator.”

He gave her a wicked grin, one that showed a glimpse of the handsome man he would be someday. “I’m so glad you realize who is really in charge of this circus.”

“You mean Night?”

He scoffed. “Not even.”

“Ryu, then.”

He gave her a look that said, ‘who are you kidding’, before turning and heading out of the changing room.

She smirked, enjoying the easy teasing.

“He is very comfortable with you,” Roslyn observed, her eyes lingering on the curtain before she turned to study Tate.

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Ashwin snorted from where she was busy unlatching the dress. Tate’s ribs expanded with a deep breath. It felt like the first since she’d been strapped into the torture device.

“Maybe because you can change into a dragon and burn him to a crisp at a moment’s notice? Yet that boy has zero fear of you.”

“Why would he fear me when I’ve done nothing to cause that fear?” Tate asked.

“People are rarely so logical when it comes to fear. The knowledge that you could do something like turn them to ash is more important than the consideration of whether you would do it,” Roslyn said. There was a thread of sorrow on her face, as if this was something she’d experienced personally.

Tate wanted to ask if that’s what had happened to her, but she refrained. They didn’t have that sort of relationship, and she didn’t want to answer any deeply personal questions that might come her way as a result.

“Dewdrop and I have been through a lot together. He’s like a little brother to me at this point. He has no reason to fear me.”

Ashwin and Roslyn let the subject drop after that.

Tate dressed quickly as Ashwin stepped outside to pack the dress in a way that it wouldn’t wrinkle and take her payment from Dewdrop.

Roslyn busied herself disrobing in preparation for her fitting, leaving Tate to take her leave in silence.

Dewdrop waited for her outside, holding the garment bag and looking eager to head to their next destination.

“See, that wasn’t as bad as you thought,” he said as they stepped out of the boutique.

“In what way? I felt like a doll used to play dress up with.”

“It wasn’t that bad. You should be grateful Ashwin agreed to find the shoes and jewelry to go with the dress or we would be visiting many more stores today,” Dewdrop said as they meandered their way down the hall, their footsteps echoing in the vast space and joining the cacophony surrounding themselves.

Tate snorted. He only thought that because he hadn’t been the one to be wrestled into the tight-fitting bodice. She had a feeling the dress would leave marks if she wore it for more than a few minutes.

Her gaze wandered to their surroundings as she people watched for the next few minutes. The people here were the same as the ones in the Lower, just dressed in nicer clothes and shadowed by guards.

Her eyes caught on a familiar figure. The man was tall with blue black hair cut close to his skull.

“Isn’t that Blade?” Tate asked, nudging Dewdrop. His face was turned away from her so she couldn’t be sure, but he moved with the same lethal grace.

“Where?” Dewdrop asked, his voice tense.

“There,” she gestured with her chin.

She and Blade had a complicated relationship. He’d tried to kidnap her twice, succeeded once, but seemed to respect her enough that he helped her mourn a dead friend earlier in the year. She hadn’t seen him much since, though he popped up every now and again as if to check in. She knew he’d kill her if orders came from his Night Lord, Lucius, but until then, he seemed perfectly willing to let sleeping dragons lie.

Dewdrop shot a quick glance in the direction she indicated. He ducked his head and spun on his heel, dragging Tate along with him as he reversed course.

“Shit.”

Tate gave her friend a look. As far as she knew, Dewdrop had no reason to avoid someone from his former gang. Unless you counted that statement from Jost earlier. Then she could see why he was actively avoiding his old acquaintances.

“Why are we running from Blade?” she asked in a calm voice.

“We’re not running.”

“Why are we walking extremely fast and hurriedly away from your old friend?”

“We were never friends.”

“Your partner in crime.”

“I wasn’t his partner. He likes to work alone.”

“And yet there were four of you the first time you tried to abduct me,” Tate said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“That was different. There were special circumstances.”

“Ah, thanks.” She loved it when he called her special.

“Not that kind of special.” Dewdrop gave her a vexed look as he dragged her behind a stall and then past another one.

She gave him a mocking look, not buying it for a second. They both knew she was pretty special.

He rolled his eyes, looking every inch the youth he was. “They thought you were more dangerous than you were.”

“Excuse me, I am dangerous. I escaped you idiots, didn’t I?”

“Only because you pissed Ricky off so bad that he lost his temper. If Blade had acted alone, you never would have escaped.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

He shot her a look that said he didn’t care if she disagreed. It didn’t change facts.

“Blade is the one they send when they have a difficult job.”

“You mean an assassin,” Tate said thoughtfully.

“More like someone who assesses a problem and then determines a permanent solution. It doesn’t always involve assassination.”

“And you think he’s after us?” Tate asked. She hadn’t really done anything that would draw either of the Lucius’s wrath. She hadn’t stolen deceptively dangerous hairpins from any of his men this week.

Dewdrop didn’t answer, and Tate stared at the back of his head.

“Or is it that you think he’s after just one of us. That being you.”

Dewdrop gave her a shamefaced look over his shoulder as he pulled her past another knot of browsers. That look answered her question and left her with more.

“Why is he after you?”

If it was because of some job Ryu got him involved in, she was going to have a rug made out of dragon skin soon.

Dewdrop turned his eyes forward.

“Daniel, why would he come after you?”

Dewdrop’s shoulders hunched at the sound of his real name.

“They didn’t throw me out of the gang.”

That was an unexpected answer. So unexpected, that it took Tate a moment to understand. When Night had discovered Dewdrop at the Red Lady’s chamber of torture, Dewdrop had told them he’d figured out where Tate was going with the intention of reporting back to the Luciuses with her whereabouts. He’d failed and was captured instead. He said it was enough to get him kicked out of the gang. Now he was telling her that hadn’t happened.

“Then what did they do?”

“Most of what I said was true. I did go there because they threatened to throw me out, and I did get caught trying to report back. When Lucius found out that you rescued me and offered to let me stay with you, he changed his mind.”

“He told you to spy on me,” Tate said in a flat voice.

She jerked her arm out of his hold.

Dewdrop stopped and turned to her with remorse on his face. “Yes. He told me to spy.”

Tate jerked back feeling a familiar hurt beginning to take hold. Anger was an old friend, edging out that hurt so it couldn’t make her do something drastic, like cry. She didn’t need that. It only had the power to hurt her if she let it. If she had a choice between hurt and good old fashioned anger, she’d choose the anger.

She could feel it building.

“I can’t believe this,” Tate muttered.

“I didn’t though,” Dewdrop said in a desperate voice as she started to turn away from him. She stopped and he continued, trying to get everything out before she stormed off. “I didn’t spy on you, Tate. I wouldn’t. Especially not after seeing how much it hurt you to know Jost and Danny kept you around to do the same. I told him no. Then when he insisted, I told him I was out. That I was no longer part of his court.”

Tate found herself listening, despite a large part of her wanting to put her fist through something.

“And that’s why you’re avoiding Blade?”

“Yes. To exit one of the night courts you need to buy your way out, and I don’t have the money yet.”

That’s what Jost had meant when he referenced Dewdrop’s continued tie to Lucius.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe the boy she considered a little brother hadn’t been reporting to a dangerous group her habits and weaknesses, but she’d been betrayed in this exact same manner before. Unlike before, she didn’t think she had it in her to pretend forgiveness if she was wrong.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was afraid.” Dewdrop’s face was stark with desperation and fear. “I thought if you knew what Lucius wanted you would turn me out. He approached me right after you learned about Jost and Ryu. I didn’t think you would want to take a chance on me and I was desperate.”

He made a convincing argument. Tate couldn’t say whether she would have given him a chance. She didn’t know if she would have been willing to accept another potential spy into her life so soon after learning that the entire life she remembered was spent with people who had an ulterior motive in every interaction.

“And since then? Why haven’t you told me at any time during the last three months?”

“I planned to. I just kept losing courage,” he said. “I kept hoping I could fix it. Make enough money to buy my way out. After that I planned to tell you. Once I’d fixed things.”

“That’s why you work for Ryu,” Tate said, putting the pieces together. It wasn’t just because they were low on money.

Dewdrop looked relieved that she hadn’t cut him from her life or stormed off yet.

“Yes. He pays well and has the contacts I need when it comes time to approach Lucius about severing my ties with his court.”

“Does he know about your little problem?” She couldn’t help the fresh wave of hurt at the thought that Ryu, someone Dewdrop had viewed with considerable suspicion in the beginning, knew more than she did.

“I haven’t told him, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he put it together. I know he’s worked with several of the Night Lords in the past. He would be familiar with the way that world works.”

He fell silent, his brown eyes looking like those of an abandoned puppy.

“Come on. If he’s here for you, we need to keep moving,” Tate said.

He nodded quietly, seemingly robbed of the cockiness he’d had while negotiating with Ashwin. Tate knew she was the reason for that loss of animation, but she couldn’t find the words to set his mind at ease.

She had trust issues. Made worse by the discovery that Jost and the crew took her on board at Ryu and the empire’s orders. Because she was Dragon-Ridden. Because she was the first female, the first person, in a hundred years to bond with a dragon. Because she’d done so without their knowledge or say so.

Dragons were weapons. They didn’t like it when there was a weapon running around outside of their control.

She understood Jost’s reasons. The crew’s reasons. They hadn’t known her in the beginning. She was a feral animal, possibly mentally unstable at best and homicidal at worst. She understood why they didn’t tell her after first capturing her, but they’d served on the same ship together for months. At any time, Jost, Danny, or Trent could have explained. She would have forgiven them. Probably.

Instead, they waited until things boiled over and she discovered the truth on her own. It was the first time she’d felt less than. Less than a friend. Less than crew. Less than a thinking person with feelings.

She forgave them. A little because she understood. Mostly because she didn’t have much choice. Not stuck on probation with the empire as she was. She needed every friend she could get. Even if they came in the form of empire sanctioned pirates that weren’t entirely trustworthy.

Dewdrop was different. He was closer to her than they’d been. Almost family. If he’d been spying on her… If he’d broken her trust in such an intimate way, it would break something in her that the previous betrayals couldn’t touch.

Chapter Five

Dewdrop shot several sidelong glances at Tate that she pretended to ignore as they made their way out of the market and aimed toward the Lower city.

They both kept an eye on their rear to see if they were being tailed. Not that it mattered. She had a feeling Lucius, and by extension Blade, knew exactly where they lived.

Colton’s Place loomed over them by the time the sun set, turning the sky into a kaleidoscope of colors. A tall, two story brick building that was nicer than anything else on the street waited to welcome them home. Tate had briefly thought about finding alternate lodging since Ryu had originally been the one to drag her here kicking and screaming, but she found she liked its quirky charm. Even the charred black soot next to her window that was the remnant of an attack a few months ago had a way of making her feel at home.

“Hey Thad, the temple guardians are supplying clean water in their places of worship to any who request it,” Tate told the homeless man sitting in the shade of her building. As usual she couldn’t see much of his face, just a pair of warm green eyes staring out from under a black hood. She didn’t understand how he could bear to be wrapped up in so many layers when it was this hot out. She dropped a coin into his outstretched palm.

“Thanks for the information. I’ll keep that in mind for later,” a rusty voice answered her.

“Try to stay cool,” she told him.

Tate and Dewdrop made their way into Colton’s Place. Dewdrop hovered at her back as she walked into her room. Tate felt like a monster for not automatically forgiving him for withholding information.

Night lifted his head from his bed in the corner, sensing the tension between them. Pax and Willa, his cubs, were curled up at his side. When the two troublemakers saw Tate, they gave twin chirrups and bounded across the floor to attack her legs and shoes.

“Enough of that. I’m not a damn chew toy,” she said, gently pushing them away with one foot. She was careful not to put too much force into the push.

What’s going on? Night asked, coming to his feet and stretching in that weird way of felines everywhere, arching his back and leaning back then forward. He shook himself, his pelt doing a full body shimmy before he sat. You smell of anger and desperation.

“She found out about my troubles with the Luciuses,” Dewdrop said miserably.

Night’s nose twitched and he showed one fang.

Tate looked between the two. “Wait, Night knows?”

Of course, I know. I’m extremely observant.

Tate gave him an incredulous look. “And I’m not?” Her voice made it clear she didn’t appreciate his comment.

Only sometimes, and never with the people close to you.

“This is just great.”

Why are you so upset? Night’s mental voice held a note of sourness.

“Why wouldn’t I be upset? There’s this huge thing happening and neither one of you thought to clue me in on it.” Her voice had risen to almost a shout by the time she finished.

The cubs gave twin mewls of distress and slunk back to their father. Tate felt a twinge of regret that she had scared the children.

It was his business. He’s entitled to share when he feels comfortable.

“Business that involved me, Night. I deserved to know.”

Night’s whiskers moved forward, and he straightened even further giving her a regal look that cut through the bullshit.

I disagree. Once he decided against spying on you, he was free to handle the situation in a matter he felt best. He obviously made the right choice given how upset this has made you.

Tate threw up her hands.

Do you really believe he’s been spying on you all this time? Night asked. His eyes stared unblinking at hers.

She looked away. “No. I don’t.”

Dewdrop’s breath left him in a whoosh.

She had to believe that. What’s more, Night believed him. If he’d known about this, he would have checked to make sure.

“I’m still livid with you,” Tate told Dewdrop, not willing to let him off the hook. “You should have told me. You should have trusted that I would have your back. If not right away, once you had gotten to know me better.”

“You’re right. I should have. I just got caught up in trying to fix it myself.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

Dewdrop nodded solemnly, his eyes sad. She couldn’t take it and ruffled his hair.

“How much money do you need to buy your way out?” she asked.

“A thousand taros.”

Tate’s felt her heart drop. That was a lot of money. More than most people saw in five years of working.

“How much do you have?”

“Three hundred.”

More than she thought. Ryu must be paying him well.

“We’ll figure this out. In the meantime, stay clear of your old haunts and keep your head down when in the city. We don’t know for sure that Blade was after you. He could have been at the Cliffside market for any number of reasons.”

They both knew that would only take him so far. If Lucius got serious about corralling his wayward thief, it would take a lot more than keeping his head down to stay safe. It made her wonder why he’d left Dewdrop alone for so long.

“We didn’t get my uniform,” Dewdrop said.

“We’ll go tomorrow.”

Night yawned and leapt onto the window sill.

“Where are you going?” Tate asked.

It’s cool enough to go exploring. I’ll be back before dinner. Take care of the cubs.

With that he disappeared out the window, using his claws to hook onto the narrow ledge outside. They were on the second story, but that never seemed to bother Night. He had a preternatural sense of balance and claws that could latch onto solid rock. The brick around the window was gouged and pockmarked.

There was a tug on Tate’s pants and two deceptively cute faces mrrphed at her. They only had the faintest shadows of spots and stripes that their father had, their fur retaining the fuzziness of the very young. Pax chose that moment to rise up onto his back legs, wavering a moment before setting a paw on Tate’s leg. Tate knew the cuteness was a façade. The two were terrors when they put their minds to it. Every day they got more and more adventurous.

“When did I become a nanny?” she muttered.

“When you decided to get involved with one of the Creators’ creatures,” Dewdrop responded.

She looked at him and smiled. There was no reason she had to watch the children. Dewdrop was more than capable of doing so.

Seeing the smile on her face, a smile Dewdrop had seen more than once right before she saddled him with something she didn’t want to do, Dewdrop stepped back and then bounded for the door.

Tate darted after him, her hand just touching the back of his shirt before he made it out of the room.

“Come back here,” she shouted.

“I suddenly remembered something I have to do,” he responded.

“It’s your turn.”

“Ha, I took the last two times.” He bounded down the stairs and shot her a victory salute at the bottom.

She didn’t want to have to do this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“It’d go a long way in making up for lying to me.”

He snorted. “Sorry, Tate. Some things just aren’t worth it.”

She stomped a foot. “Dewdrop.”

“Nope.” He fled the building, the door banging after him.

There was a chirruping behind her as if Pax and Willa were laughing. Tate looked back to see two faces peering around the corner, one using the other as a stool.

“Alright, you two scalawags, we’re going to have a list of rules and this time you’re going to follow them.”

Willa, the cub on the bottom, got a crafty look on her face and disappeared into the room, sending her sibling, Pax, tumbling to the ground.

Tate knew what that meant. It was going to be a very long night.

*

“Quit fussing with your gown,” Dewdrop snapped.

Tate gave up trying to tug her gown into a more comfortable fit. “I feel like I’m trussed up like a rump roast.”

Tate wasn’t the only one finding the clothes restricting. Dewdrop was in the middle of trying to pull the tight collar of his uniform away from his throat. He gave up with a grimace. Night had brought back a bundle of clothes that morning containing the uniform Dewdrop found himself in.

He looked dashing in the formal wear, his hair slicked back and the dark gray and cream of the jacket and pants lending him an air of efficiency. The collar was high and stiff; Tate doubted he’d be able to turn his head while wearing that thing. Large silver buttons marched down the front. He’d waited until right before they had to get into the carriage to put on the coat. It was stifling in the stiff fabric.

Tate’s dress was at least sleeveless even if it pressed tightly against her ribs and waist. The soft blue set her pale skin off nicely. Together they looked ready to attend a ball, not a dinner.

She hated it, even as she conceded they presented a pretty picture.

Tate walked slowly up the stairs to the front door of the mansion they’d disembarked in front of, trying to prevent herself from doing something embarrassing, like falling on her ass.

Their destination was so far outside her realm of comfort that she was at a loss for words for once. It was in an area of Aurelia that Tate had never visited before. The fancy part, as Dewdrop would say.

“Is this someone’s house?” Tate asked Dewdrop in a hushed voice.

“Most likely it’s the house of someone high up in the government who has lent it out as a neutral place to conduct these talks,” Dewdrop said in a low voice.

They reached the top just as a butler opened the mammoth door to admit them.

High up in the government, maybe at the very top of it. If Tate had been impressed by the utter majesty of the outside with its cream-colored bricks, oversized windows and white pillars complete with arch over the entrance, it was nothing compared to the inside foyer.

It was a room that shouted its owner’s unmatched wealth and privilege. Something that made a normal person’s jaw drop and evoked the feeling they’d stepped into a dream or another world. Tate didn’t know which.

With a raised cream-colored ceiling, the entrance gave the impression of space and light. The furnishings simple in their tastefulness. Tate liked it, even as she knew she didn’t belong.

“Name?” the butler asked.

Dewdrop answered before Tate could. “The witness, Tate Fisher, and her manservant.”

“We’ve been expecting you,” the man said, giving them an abbreviated bow. “Right this way.”

He held out an arm and then walked quickly before them, leading them through a maze of rooms, each nicer than the last.

Tate followed behind the butler with Dewdrop bringing up the rear.

She didn’t often get nervous, but right now she had to try to manage the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. If she hadn’t already made promises, she would have beat a full retreat. There was also the little matter of what Dewdrop had revealed the previous day. Their need for money was more dire than she had thought, taking with it the privilege of rejecting this assignment.

She took a deep breath and resigned herself to grinning and bearing it. She’d survived pirates, Night Lords, and the tunnels. A couple of soft nobles should be no problem. Right?

The butler opened a set of double doors that led to a large room filled with people. Like the other rooms, this one had a raised ceiling. Its theme seemed to be silver and gold with the furniture matching.

The inhabitants of the room were dressed as finely as Tate, perhaps more so, a glittering gathering of butterflies and peacocks.

Dewdrop matched his step to hers as the butler announced her to the group. Tate suddenly found herself the center of attention.

Despite what she’d first assumed, it wasn’t just one gathering with people mingling. There was an edge of hostility and tension in the air. The group was separated into three distinct cliques. Each giving the other suspicious glances that only abated long enough to look over the newcomers.

The Kairi were easy to spot with their distinctive coloring and dress. They were wearing outfits similar to the one Umi had worn the first time Tate had seen her. The fabric was silk with jewel tones and distinct patterns that told a story. Some were flowers, others a version of fish, a few had simplistic renderings of mountains and forests. Each was created with an intricate eye to detail.

The women wore a cross between a dress and a robe with several under layers that added a contrast to the more vivid patterns in the outer layer, all held together with an intricately fashioned sash at their waist.

The men’s formal clothes were understated in contrast. They wore flowing pants and oversized jewel toned vests with blouses underneath.

The humans wore the fashions of Aurelia, similar to what Tate and Dewdrop wore, each gown trying to outdo the other.

The last group was dressed much more simply than the first two, in clothes that Tate envied. The women wore flowing dresses as light as air and the men wore fitted leather pants and earth toned shirts. It was a style that allowed movement and didn’t prevent its wearer from escaping if the situation warranted.

Tate examined the gathering for the familiar faces of Jost or Danny, ignoring the way the comfortably attired group examined her as if she was potential prey and how the Kairi eyed her with disapproval.

“Your former captain wasn’t kidding when he said this situation was a powder keg waiting to happen,” Dewdrop said in a hushed voice.

Tate glanced at him. “Why do you say that?”

“All three of the main races are represented here. Kairi, Silva and humans.” He nodded at each faction.

Tate sighed. This was going to be more difficult then she imagined.

“Do you see Jost?”

There must have been over thirty people in the room. Even then there was space to spare. It didn’t feel cramped at all.

One of the Silva approached, moving with a long limbed stroll that reminded Tate of Night. “This is a private gathering. You’ll have to find another room.”

Tate glanced at the man. He had amber eyes similar to the Silva Tate had encountered yesterday. His hair was the color of fall with tawny gold, russet browns, and auburn.

“She’s here at my request,” a deep voice said from behind Tate.

They turned to find Jost, Danny at his side, standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard them come in.

Jost cleaned up nicely. The scruffy pirate was gone, leaving a refined gentleman in his place. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck and he was clean-shaven, wearing formalwear complete with vest and a complicated tie.

Danny’s hair was slicked back from his face and his beard groomed. He looked like a bodyguard gussied up to mingle with his betters. His eyes caught hers and he gave her a half smile coupled with a sly wink. She rolled her eyes back at him.

The man who’d approached Tate gave Jost a nod. “Mediator. We’ve been waiting.”

Jost raised one eyebrow, his face amused.

“The witness has still not arrived,” the man said after an uncomfortable pause.

Jost turned an amused set of eyes on Tate. She shrugged. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself yet.”

She also hadn’t been sure whether she needed to be introduced or if she could just hang back where no one would notice her.

“Ah. Let’s take care of that.” He turned to the man. “We have no need to wait for a witness as my lovely companion will do quite nicely.”

The man looked startled at the news and gave Tate a closer onceover.

Jost stepped forward and took Tate’s hand in his, tucking it into the crook of his arm and escorting her past the stranger.

They became the center of attention as they made their way into the room. Danny and Dewdrop followed obediently behind them.

“Your friend did a good job finding such a fine dress on short notice,” Jost murmured.

“I didn’t realize you were so obsessed with what I wear.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “I understand lady’s fashion.”

She just bet he did. Jost was considered something of a lady’s man. She’d like to say he had a lady in every port, but he rarely returned to the same woman twice. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him in a long-term relationship. He did travel, which made relationships difficult, but so did everyone on his ship. Many of the men talked about the sweethearts they left behind. Constantly. No one knew where Jost had left his heart.

Tate gave him a look that said she got his insinuation and found him ridiculous anyway.

“What is it that you need me to do?”

Tate hoped he’d be more specific. She already felt lost and the evening had just begun.

“For now, just listen. If you see anything suspicious or something doesn’t seem right, report to me your findings.”

Sounded easy enough. She could be an observer. It’s what she’d done on his crew. Observe until she knew how to blend.

Tate noticed the disdain with which the Kairi eyed her as they circulated.

“You didn’t tell me the Kairi would be here,” she said.

“They’ve laid claim to the site, saying it is on their territory so any find should belong to them.” Jost spared them a glance. “They do seem to rather dislike you.”

Tate gave him a look. He knew why.

“Don’t worry. They won’t do anything. Their first Ippo agreed that you acted in good faith and were not to be retaliated against.”

“Somehow I don’t think they got the message.”

“Yes, well even they can’t legislate feelings, much as they would like to.”

“What’s the Silva’s stake in all this?”

“They say the site was built by their people during the war with the Creators. They claim it has significant religious meaning to their people and that their ancestors are buried there. They want it covered up and left alone. The Academy’s scholars are the ones who discovered it. Their work was funded by the nobles and merchants who each want their piece of the pie.”

Jost hadn’t been kidding when he said this situation was perilous, especially if it contained the kind of artifacts Jost and Ryu feared it did.

“For now, just mingle. Listen. Learn. Find out the major players. Tonight is a meet and greet. We won’t get to the major negotiations until tomorrow. This is just the opening ceremony.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better,” Tate told him.

“Your role is mostly passive. You’re mainly here in case something goes wrong.”

If it was passive, they wouldn’t have need of her.

They walked to the middle of the room where Jost drew her to a halt. Someone dressed in the same uniform as the butler approached with a tray of drinks. Jost took two and handed one to Tate.

At her side, Dewdrop muttered, “You’re not the only one who is thirsty, you know.”

“People in your position don’t drink in this type of social situation,” Jost said through a smile as one of the humans approached.

Dewdrop gave a harrumph.

The human was a middle-aged man who had let his extreme wealth affect his weight and health. He had the look of someone who had never denied themselves any craving and who had never walked further than the waiting carriage out front.

“It is so good of you to come, Mediator,” the man fawned over Jost. “We hope you’ll bring these negotiations to a satisfying conclusion.”

“It is my hope to find a path that can meet all interested parties’ needs.” Jost gave the man a noncommittal smile.

Tate took a sip of her drink and watched. The man smiled, but Tate would wager that wasn’t what he really wanted to do. There was a shadow in his eyes, the slightest pursing of lips. Oh yes, this man wanted Jost to kick these others to the curb and find unilaterally in the Academy’s interests.

She was betting he was one of the merchants or nobles who had funded the discovery.

Another man approached, this one tall and thin and wearing a pair of glasses over a hawkish nose. He fit her vision of an academic much better than the first man.

“Ronald, I was just talking with the mediator about satisfying outcomes,” the first man said.

Ronald’s eyes were cold and chilly with disdain. “If the mediator had any honor at all, he’d immediately find in our favor and do away with this farce of a negotiation. The Silva and Kairi have no right to this discovery. They’re trying to benefit off others’ hard work.”

“While you are trying to profit off the ancestors of another,” a smooth voice with a hint of an accent said.

A woman in a dress the color of spring leaves approached. Her wavy hair was left down. The brown and blonde mass reached the middle of her back.

Tate took a sip, waiting to see what this new face added to the proceedings.

“There’s no proof that the Silva had anything to do with that site,” Ronald scoffed.

A man drew to a stop beside the woman. Tate’s eyes sharpened. She recognized him. It was Lennart, the voice of reason the day before.

He inclined his head in a nod of acknowledgement to Tate before turning to the others.

“I believe your own methodology says that simply because you have not proved something does not mean a hypothesis is wrong—only unproven for the moment.”

“Yet you’re the ones who’d like us to throw a bunch of dirt on it and never benefit from the knowledge just waiting to be discovered.”

“You are the only ones who question this. Our ancestors clearly state that it was built by them. Our dead are buried there,” the woman said calmly.

“We only have your word for that.” A Kairi male stepped into the debate—his black eyes flicking over Jost and lingering on Tate.

She gave him a respectful nod.

He turned back to Jost without acknowledging her. “The site was found on our territory. They had no permit when they discovered it. The law states that any discovery reverts to the owners of that land.”

“That territory is highly disputed,” Ronald said, his face showing annoyance. “Your people haven’t established a clear claim in the courts, making any need for a permit irrelevant.”

Tate watched as the three groups devolved into a heated argument over which claim trumped the rest. All of them were passionate about their assertions. She just couldn’t tell whether that passion stemmed from the promise of power and wealth or whether it came from a legitimate claim on the site.

She didn’t envy Jost his task of mediating an acceptable peace between them. From her spot, the task seemed impossible. None of them gave any evidence of being willing to back down or compromise.

“Just like you to be more concerned about your dead then trying to understand our history,” Ronald sneered at the Silva woman.

Her face flushed and her eyes flashed as a growl built in her throat.

“Tala,” Lennart said in a careful voice.

“Just like your people to be willing to spit on another’s ancestors to further your own agenda,” she said, the growl turning her voice into a thing of nightmares.

The Kairi sneered, the expression looking right at home on his elegant face. “Your species has always resorted to threats and violence to ensure your own interests.”

A sheen rolled over the woman’s eyes, much like the reflection Night’s eyes were capable of in the dark. “Better than the underhanded tactics that your ancestors have employed through the years.” To Ronald, she said, “You’d better keep a close eye on your discovery otherwise you might wake up one day to find your artifacts stolen away in the night by those without honor.”

The Kairi man stepped forward, his hand going to his hip.

Tate intercepted him, grabbing the knife before he could.

“Is this a magic sharpened blade?” she asked, holding it up to the light. It was a stiletto, narrow and tapering to a needle-sharp point. An assassin’s tool. Meant for stabbing. She was surprised the Kairi had it, much less thought it would be a good idea to use it, even as a threat. “I’ve heard stories but never known someone who could afford the obscene price.”

She twirled it in her fingers and flicked it at Jost.

He caught it and gave an impressed twist of his lips. “Good eye. Looks like it’s from the Kilgor armorers.”

Tate was impressed. The Kilgor Armory was legendary for its craftsmanship. Its weapons were on every mercenary, soldier or adventurer’s wish list. Even Tate had heard of them.

“What is the meaning of bringing such a weapon to a mediation?” Tala asked in a scathing voice.

“I’m allowed protection,” he said in an icy tone of voice.

“From what?” Tate asked.

“From us,” Tala replied, her eyes turning flinty. Lennart held himself stiffly as he glared at the Kairi.

Tate looked them over.

“You don’t seem that threatening to me.”

Ronald snorted. “You aren’t looking closely enough.”

A soft sound reached Tate’s sensitive ears, like skin moving against skin. Tala raised her hands, a set of sharp looking claws tipping each finger.

“Unless they’ve been declawed and defanged, the Silva are always considered armed. Their bodies are their weapons,” Ronald said, his voice taking on a lecturing tone.

“The act of declawing is illegal in all territories except the Kairi’s main island,” Tala said with a cool glance at the Kairi man.

Danny stepped forward before Tate could ask why. “Declawing means amputating each finger at the first knuckle. The act has been banned since the peace treaty that brought them into the empire.”

Tate could see why. It sounded inhumane and they hadn’t even gone into what they meant by defanging. She didn’t want to know. Visions of amputated knuckles were already fighting for purchase in her brain.

“Either way, you agreed to attend the mediations unarmed,” Jost said. “I will be keeping this blade until the end of the talks.”

The Kairi man looked disgruntled at Jost’s decision but did not try to argue. He gave him a half bow and turned on his heel to walk back to his people.

Jost raised his voice to address the rest of the room. “Any others carrying weapons should send them home. If I find anyone else in possession of one, I will ban that person from these discussions. No matter who it is.”

He gave each of the faction leaders a meaningful glance. Tala nodded willingly. Ronald and his portly friend followed suit, though their nods had the faintest hesitation to them. Tate was willing to bet one if not both had some type of weapon on them.

Ronald’s fingers hovered over a pocket in his coat before moving away. Tate had a feeling that weapon might not be a blade but something else.

At this stage, it was a suspicion she couldn’t prove, and she couldn’t call him out without something a little more concrete.

“I suggest you hand it to someone in your party to be taken to your quarters.” Jost gave the gathering a friendly smile that had an edge of threat to it. Tate had seen it many times while on his ship. It was the smile he gave to make you think you had a choice, when in reality, if you didn’t hop to, he was going to come down on you in a painful reckoning.

Seeing the butler at the door, Jost said, “Dinner will be served in the dining room in ten minutes. I trust you will all join me.”

He nodded at the gathering and walked out of the room, Danny following on his heels. Tate lingered, wanting to see who chose to disarm themselves.

The Silva moved to the door without hesitation. Tate guessed they really did consider their bodies enough of a weapon for not even one of them moved to disarm themselves.

Several of the academics handed weapons, all small enough to be carried undetected in their clothes, off to one of their own. The human sponsors involved in the discovery did the same, their daggers jewel encrusted and short enough that Tate doubted they’d be a danger to anything bigger than her hand.

The Kairi had followed their lead, picking one of their younger members and loading him down with weapons that looked a lot more threatening. Tate didn’t see any more stilettos, but she did see a lot of weapons meant for slicing. Some as long as her arm. The loose garments evidently made the perfect hiding spot.

More people handed over weapons than she would have thought. She kept an eye on those who walked out of the room, making a note of those who acted like they were unarmed. Those were the ones who didn’t take Jost’s words at face value. Their mistake. Saviors help them if Jost learned they were still armed. They’d learn really quickly that Jost didn’t mince words. If he said he’d throw them out of the negotiations, he would, probably after giving them a pretty thorough beating to remember their mistake by.

When the last of the stragglers made their way to the dining room, Tate followed as Dewdrop shadowed her.

“How much you want to bet that Jost discovers someone didn’t disarm themselves before dinner is over?” Dewdrop asked, leaning towards her.

Tate snorted. “You must think I’m stupid. I saw the same things you did.”

At least three people left that room armed that Tate saw. Probably more, given how effectively the Kairi’s clothes were at hiding weapons.

Dewdrop made a face. “You would think they’d at least be subtle about it.”

The obvious offenders were all academics.

“They probably have no idea how to hide a weapon.” Tate had one strapped to her thigh and a thin piece of wire tucked into her bodice. That also didn’t take into account the stakes she had jammed into her hair masquerading as hairpins that looked like blue flowers.

Dewdrop had several knives sheathed in a belt around his waist. His uniform’s jacket hid them nicely. She wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t seen him putting it on right before they left. She also knew he kept a blade in his right boot.

“This is going to be a long night if we have to disarm them one by one,” Dewdrop complained.

Tate silently agreed.

Chapter Six

Most of the gathering was already seated by the time Tate and Dewdrop reached it. Candles glittered in several chandeliers over the table. The Kairi took up half of one side with the humans directly across from them. The Silva were on the opposite end of the table.

Jost stood at the head of the table holding a cup. He glanced at Tate as she entered and nodded toward the only open seat, one between the Kairi man she had taken the stiletto off of and a Silva woman.

Dewdrop muttered, “Good luck with that.”

He peeled away to take up a spot on the wall. She envied him. Sitting between her dinner partners was going to be an exercise in patience and perseverance.

Tate took a seat, shooting both the man and woman next to her a tight smile. The man from before gave her a glare before turning back to his dinner companion. Guess he was still holding a grudge over how Tate had disarmed him.

Tate glanced down at her table setting and bit back a curse. How many forks and spoons did one person need to eat a meal? There must have been at least three of each.

Jost raised his glass. “I thought we could toast to new relationships and the willingness to look past our differences for a compromise that is amenable to everyone.”

There was a pause as everyone glared at one another. A toast was the last thing they wanted to do, especially if it meant acknowledging the need for compromise.

Tate took her glass and raised it.

One by one the others followed her, though more than one grumbled. She didn’t care. She just wanted to get through this evening without things devolving into a massacre.

Observe, her ass. These people were a hair away from attacking each other if they couldn’t even find it in themselves to participate in a simple toast. They’d have no problem getting rid of her along the way.

Jost gestured to someone at the door. Suddenly they were surrounded by servants carrying plates and setting them down in front of each guest.

Jost took his seat and started chatting with his companions, one was Tala, the female Silva. The other was Ronald, who didn’t look thrilled to be sharing Jost’s attention.

Tate couldn’t hear what was being said. She was too far down the table for that. She settled for listening to her companions.

The Kairi at her side spoke in hushed tones to his neighbor. The language he spoke was lyrical, rising and falling like the ocean in a soothing cadence. Tate imagined it made the perfect lullaby.

“Little lizard, I almost didn’t recognize you all dressed up,” the woman next to her said.

Tate choked on the bite of salad she was pushing into her mouth. Salad, bleh. She only ate it when there was nothing else offered. Normally it tasted like dirt and left her hungry. This one wasn’t too bad. It had a tangy citrus dressing and a nice crunch that made it almost bearable.

Tate looked at the woman. She wasn’t the only one almost unrecognizable.

Gabriella was among the group of Silva she’d argued with the day before. Her wild look hadn’t been tamed so much as refined to a lethal edge, sharpened and honed until she radiated a fierce air of mystery.

Her wild multicolored curls, full of browns, golds and blacks, had been partially pulled back from her face in a series of tiny braids and left to curl down her back. Her amber eyes were highlighted by an artful application of paint on her eyelids and kohl to her eyelashes. She wore a golden torque on her throat and an arm bracelet on her bicep in the shape of a howling fairwolf, one of the great beasts Tate had only heard stories about.

She was beautiful, but it was a sharp kind of beauty that could rip your throat out while smiling.

“I could say the same for you,” Tate said.

Gabriella dipped her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Her smile was missing the sharpened incisors from yesterday. Today her teeth looked normal. Tate took a sip of her champagne while thinking. Perhaps, like the claws, the fangs came and went. Maybe in a transformation similar to Tate’s when she took Ilith’s form but less all-consuming.

“You are the witness for this debacle?”

Tate nodded.

“What are your thoughts so far?” Gabriella asked, her voice a smooth purr.

The Kairi next to her moved. She got the sense he was interested in her response.

She disregarded her first two observations, having a feeling they’d get her in trouble with at least one of her seat companions.

Finally, she settled on something generic and bland. “It has been an interesting evening. Everyone seems to have very strong views.”

There. Nothing in her statement invited offense. Being diplomatic and on her best behavior was difficult. She’d gotten out of the habit and the skill was very like a muscle that atrophied when not used.

Gabriella gave an unladylike snort. “What a perfectly unremarkable response. Come now, surely you can do better than that.”

“It is to the Witness’s credit that she has mastered the art of diplomacy. If only others at the table were so skilled, perhaps we could actually accomplish something during this mediation.”

Gabriella shifted forward in an aggressive movement, almost brushing against Tate. “And maybe if you cold, unfeeling bastards were a little more direct, you wouldn’t act like a poker was shoved up your ass every time someone opened their mouth.”

“And if your kind acted a little less like the beasts the Creators modeled you off, we would not find so much objectionable.”

Tate leaned back as a growl spilled from Gabriella. The two glared at each other across Tate, their eyes locked. Tension practically dripped from them.

Dewdrop stepped into view on the other side of the table and gave her wide eyes, saying without words that she needed to do something. She gave him wide eyes back, asking what he expected her to do. His look said figure it out.

She picked up her fork and bent forward, getting between the two and their stare off. The heat of their glares drilled into the side of her head as she forced another piece of lettuce into her mouth. She chewed, not tasting the food as she thought of a way to distract them from their hostility.

“The weather has sure been hot lately.” There, conversation about the weather should be harmless enough. “Every time I step outdoors I feel like I’m going to dissolve into a puddle of liquid.”

There was a distinct pause as both transferred their glares to Tate. She tried not to let it bother her, but it was like being glared at by two lions upset that she’d interrupted their meal.

She kept her face politely interested as she waited for a response. None came.

“What is the weather like where you’re from?” she asked Gabriella, hoping that the question would defuse some of the tension. At least with these two. The rest of the table would have to figure it out on their own. Tate was only one person. She couldn’t fix the increasing hostility wafting from the rest of the diners.

“It’s more humid than this,” Gabriella said.

More humid? It’d be like wading through soup.

“At least in parts of our homeland. There is a desert to our south that some of the clans claim is much more arid. And hot,” she continued.

“And you, sir? What is your home like?” Tate couldn’t remember the Kairi’s name, if he had ever given it to her.

“It is similar to Aurelia, though perhaps a little less hot.”

Tate felt a spark of relief that they’d responded.

“I hear the Kairi have an island nation,” she said.

“We hold a chain of islands. Not just one.”

“The Silva’s territory is the largest of the three people’s,” Gabriella said, giving a superior smile.

“Only in actual land mass,” the Kairi inserted. “Our islands span thousands of miles. It is much more beautiful and varied than the pile of dirt the Silva claim as their own.”

Gabriella bared her teeth, her fangs on full display, in a sharp toothed smile. “Only to someone with no taste or appreciation for the beauty of a jungle that goes on for weeks, or the harsh splendor of the Deiron mountain range. Even the Catsinth desert has its own desolate beauty.”

“All things that have nothing to do with the Silva. The Kairi at least have attempted to add to the beauty that is inherent in our islands. Your jungle and mountains do not compare to the hanging gardens of the Kooi or the way the plum blossoms look in spring.”

“It sounds like both places would be worth a visit someday,” Tate interjected before they could continue comparing which place was better. “I’ve never heard of any of those places.”

The Kairi male gave her a disdainful look. “The Kooi gardens are renowned over the world for the ingenuity and the planning it took to build them.”

Tate squashed the defensive words that wanted to fly out of her mouth and gave him a strained smile instead. She could see how the Silva had trouble dealing with his people. He seemed determined to find offense in everything she said.

A snort of laughter escaped Gabriella. “Perhaps your monument to your gardeners is not as famous or beautiful as you were led to believe.”

The Kairi got an offended look on his face, like someone had just goosed him, before turning with a huff back to his meal.

Assured that the two wouldn’t come to blows anytime soon, Tate sat back as a server appeared to take her salad. Almost immediately it was replaced by a bowl of green liquid. Tate eyed it, feeling even less thrilled than she had about the salad.

There were several powerful, wealthy people in this room and this was the best they could do? She could have gotten better at pretty much any food stall in the Lower.

She dipped her spoon in the soup and let it dribble off in a sluggish stream. She tasted it, unsurprised when it was cold on her tongue. It didn’t taste bad, but it wasn’t something she’d go out of her way to eat. It also was not going to do much to keep her from getting hungry two minutes after it was gone. She prayed this wasn’t the last course or she’d spend the rest of the night starving.

“I am told that your bond with your dragon is still new,” Gabriella said. Her nose wrinkled after a mouthful of the soup. She set her spoon down and sat up straighter. Seeing the question on Tate’s face, she said, “I asked around after our encounter yesterday.”

“And what did you find out?” Tate was curious to know what information was out there. As far as she knew, her presence as a Dragon-Ridden wasn’t widely known.

“Surprisingly little since you are the first to bond in the last century.”

“Why do you say that?”

“People have begun to suspect that the days of dragons bonding with any of the peoples are over. Your arrival should have generated ripples that reached all the way to the Silva homeland. Yet we never would have known had we not encountered you and saw the dragon for ourselves. Why is that?”

She’d known her arrival was important to Ryu and his government, but she didn’t know how important. Perhaps this conversation could shed a little light on the questions she had.

“Why would anyone care whether a new Dragon-Ridden had stepped onto the stage?”

“Because people like to know when the balance of power shifts. You’re a weapon. One that has no known loyalties yet. It would be only natural for those that wish to curry favor to seek you out and those who see you as a threat to make plans. News should have spread far and wide as soon as you took the dragon as your bonded.”

A weapon. That confirmed what Tate had suspected. The classes on everything under the sun. A useful weapon was a well-rounded weapon. The more you knew; the more you could do. Whether that be leading armies into battle or attending a high stakes negotiation. Knowledge was power.

“Have you met other Dragon-Ridden before?” Tate asked. The only one she’d met was Ryu, and he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with information. Like how to transform without putting her life on the line, or what it was like to fly.

“Once. When I was a child.” Gabriella’s focus turned inward as if she was remembering something she’d rather forget. “It was a memorable meeting.”

Tate had the feeling she shouldn’t pry, even though she wanted to. She was burning with questions and every time she learned something new, there were just more questions.

She changed the subject. “Do you think the negotiations will be successful in finding a satisfying solution?”

Gabriella frowned. “Unlikely, but your negotiator has succeeded in other far more difficult situations.”

“Jost?” Tate asked before she thought better of it. She didn’t know what name he was going by here, but she doubted it was a name associated with his pirate persona.

“Is that what you call Lord Dampier?”

“Yes.” Tate was grateful for the save.

Lord Dampier? That sounded very official and noble. Tate looked across the table to where Jost was listening to Ronald speak with a thoughtful look on his face. In this setting, garbed in an outfit that probably cost as much as Tate had made in her entire eight months of service on his ship, she could imagine him as a nobleman. Little remained of the pirate she had assumed him to be.

It made her question which version was the real Jost. Pirate or nobleman or spymaster? Perhaps the answer was all.

Her bowl was whisked away to be replaced by a plate of chicken smothered in a dark brown sauce, roasted vegetables and a mashed red paste. The smell set Tate’s mouth to watering.

Gabriella fell on her meal with a level of enthusiasm that had been missing until now. Tate followed her example, pleasantly surprised at the flavors that burst in her mouth. This was the type of meal she had expected.

Several minutes passed before Tate tried to restart the conversation.

“I heard earlier that your people believe that the discovery and all inside belongs to you.”

“It’s a sacred site.”

“That you didn’t even know about until the Academy’s scholars uncovered it,” the Kairi male on Tate’s left said.

His plate had fish and a salad that looked a lot like purple seaweed to Tate.

“As I was saying, our ancestors left records. Our doyenne believes that the tunnels and room they discovered dates back to shortly after the war with the Creators. If that is the case, it means the find, and everything in it, belong to the Silva.”

The Kairi’s grunt of derision made his thoughts clear on that assessment.

“What makes you think that the site in question is the one your records point to?” Tate asked. She kept her voice curious and not at all judgmental, wanting details without angering Gabriella or anybody else. “I assume if you didn’t know about it until now, that the records are not clear about its exact location.”

“Exactly,” the Kairi said.

Tate looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He and his partner were listening intently to this conversation. The humans across the table also seemed focused on the discussion.

Gabriella frowned at the Kairi before she said, “We weren’t looking before. There are many records from that time. The site seemed unimportant until the Academy went looking where it had no business being. We were content to leave our ancestors in peace without disturbing their last resting place.”

“What a load of bullshit,” the human across from Tate said.

She blinked. That wasn’t the type of language she would have attributed to any of those at the table. Except maybe Gabriella. She seemed the sort to say exactly what she was thinking.

“It’s not bullshit,” Gabriella defended. “There are more records than we can easily keep track of. There isn’t time to go digging all over the place. Some records describe burial sites or are of little relevance to today’s society. We will not disturb our ancestors for what amounts to a treasure hunt. Unlike some.”

Her pointed look at the man made it clear who she meant.

The man’s hair was long and tied back from his face. He had a beard and his clothes weren’t quite as nice as the rest at the table. He had the faintest rough around the edges look as if this wasn’t his world but he’d made an effort to blend.

“And we’re supposed to believe your people aren’t interested in the greatest find of the last half century. That they wouldn’t have gone looking long ago if they’d known about it.” The man’s words were biting with sarcasm.

“I cannot control what a small mind believes,” Gabriella said, her sharp teeth on display.

“I agree with the human,” the Kairi inserted. “You must consider us fools if you think we would believe you had known about the site all this time and done nothing.”

“Why did the Academy investigate that spot?” Tate asked. “I assume they don’t just go about falling into tunnels such as these.”

“It was a happy accident,” the human said. “A farmer was trying to determine whether any of the land could be reclaimed by draining the swamp and repurposed for crops when he stumbled across the remains of an obelisk.”

“An obelisk?” Tate asked.

“He didn’t know what it was at the time. Just that it was made from the same material the ancients used to build their tunnels and many of their artifacts. He contacted the Academy with the find. They sent people out to investigate, as many tunnel systems have been associated with an obelisk.”

“You’re one of the archeologists,” Tate said. It would explain why he looked a little less at home than the rest of the nobles at this dinner.

The man nodded. “My team made the discovery. We have a vested interest in making sure it’s not covered up or perverted for another’s interest.”

By the glare he shot Gabriella and the Kairi man, Tate assumed that last comment was aimed at the two by her sides.

“It is only right that my people profit from a find discovered on their land,” the Kairi said, his voice cold.

“This was discovered on an island?” She knew very well that wasn’t the case. If it had, she doubted the academics would have been given access in the first place. She wanted to know how strong a claim the Kairi had.

“It was not,” the archaeologist said. “We found it at the edge of the Bridled Swamplands, about twenty miles south of here. Far from any island that the Kairi claim as their own.”

“It was discovered in a swamp? How is the ground stable enough to support tunnels?” Tate asked.

“That is a question only those who built the tunnels could answer. Their ability far out paces any construction capabilities that we currently have. It’s why studying this is so important. We can unlock secrets long hidden. But, to your question, it was on the edge of the swamp where the ground is slightly more stable.”

“Those lands have been contested for many years,” the Kairi argued. “They were ceded to us as a land dower after our Ippo married the Emperor’s cousin by marriage nearly a century ago.”

“In a move that was not backed up by law. The land was owned by another noble. That woman’s family had no right to cede anything to your kind when they weren’t the legal owners. The courts backed this up.” The man looked at Tate. “We got permission from the rightful owners to dig there.”

“I’m sure they took a nice piece of the find for themselves,” Gabriella sneered.

“Of course,” the man said. “It was his by right.”

“Is this assumed owner here?” Tate asked. She’d like to speak with him if so. He might have a different perspective on all this.

“He has not arrived yet, but he will be here soon,” the man said.

“And what is your name?” Tate disliked referring to him as archaeologist in her head.

“Elijah Griffin.”

“And yours?” Tate asked turning to the Kairi beside her.

“Ithor Aisao.”

Tate thought a moment, taking a bite of her meal to give herself time to think. She still wasn’t sure what was expected of her or how she was supposed to help Jost achieve his mission.

“If Lord Dampier were to determine your people were the owners of the discovery and all it contained, what do you think you would do with it?”

“Why does this matter?”

“It doesn’t right now. I’m just curious.”

Ithor cocked his head, eyeing her suspiciously. “I am not in charge. I cannot speak for my superiors.”

“But if you had to hazard a guess?”

He frowned at her, his face stern. “It is not my place to make such wild speculation.”

Tate fought against her sigh. “And you, Elijah? What does the Academy intend to do with the find?”

“Study it. Share what we’ve found.”

“Only with those who have ties to the Academy. The Academy of Aurelia is well known for hoarding information. If you’re not one of their graduates, the information is kept locked away,” Gabriella said.

“Like the Kairi or the Silva are any better,” Elijah scoffed.

“And the artifacts?” Tate asked. The dangerous artifacts capable of changing the flow of power in the empire.

“They’ll be cataloged and studied.”

“While their benefactors take the most useful of the lot for their own profit,” Gabriella said.

“Why shouldn’t they?” Elijah asked, his voice passionate. “They funded the expedition that led to this discovery. Without them, no one would know about it.”

Or argue about it.

“What would your people do with the find, Gabriella?”

“Bury it and pretend it didn’t exist, most likely,” Elijah said in a snide voice.

Tate ignored the comment.

“We are undecided. If the remains of our ancestors are buried in those tunnels, there would have to be considerable thought and care given to how we proceeded. It is possible we would block off the entrance so they can rest in peace.”

“And ignore any knowledge a discovery like this could impart?” Elijah railed.

She gave him a cool look. “Some knowledge is best left unknown. Such a thing bought at the expense of my ancestors’ peace and dignity is not worth the price I will pay when I face them in death.”

“Fat lot of good a view like that does for the people left behind.”

“I don’t know,” Tate said. “How would you feel if someone went and dug up your parents or your grandparents and just tossed them here and there? I’d be pretty upset myself.”

“The bones they speak of are thousands of years old. I doubt they have any living family left to be upset,” Elijah said.

“Evidently someone still remembers them,” Tate said, raising her eyebrows. “Or the Silva wouldn’t be here.”

“They seek to profit off my work. It’s typical behavior for the predator races,” Elijah said.

“Predator races?” Tate didn’t recognize the term.

“It’s what they call any of the races that were combined with a predator,” Gabriella explained. Her voice making it clear she did not like the term. “Many of my people were modeled off the apex predators.”

“They also used to eat people. Your people didn’t recognize us as anything but clever meat. Thought we were more fun to hunt than animals,” Elijah said.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Humans are clever but also incredibly weak. We face more challenge bringing down a brynkeros than we do a species unable to defend itself.” Gabriella’s smile was nasty. “Besides, the clans haven’t used such a practice in five hundred years.”

Tate filed that fact away. She had a feeling she would want to examine that information in more detail later. Perhaps in a place where she couldn’t offend the person who might have once thought her a tasty morsel right to their face.

“Moving on from that cheery thought,” Tate said. These people were determined to have it out one way or another. She didn’t see how Jost was going to end this without someone coming to blows. “I don’t understand when you say they will profit. If I’m understanding this correctly, the Silva seek to leave the discovery untouched, taking away any chance for profit.”

Three sets of eyes swung to Tate, varying degrees of surprise in each one. Tate ignored them and took another bite of her food. Gabriella recovered first.

“The witness brings up a good point,” she aimed a victorious smile at Elijah.

He looked dissatisfied at Tate’s observation. “We only have their word that they will seal the discovery. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The Silva’s physical attributes ensure their dominance. The artifacts help humans hold their own against the rest of the predator races.”

“So, you’re more interested in the potential weapons this discovery has uncovered.” Tate kept her expression politely interested as she made the statement.

There was a choked sound from Gabriella that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Tate peeked at her out of the side of her eye. Gabriella’s expression was carefully bland. Ithor on her other side also seemed interested in Elijah’s response.

Elijah sputtered, “That’s not— you’re twisting my words. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh? What did you mean?”

Elijah’s glare should have made Tate feel bad. It didn’t. She took a sip of her drink and raised one eyebrow at him.

“I only meant that even if they bury what’s been discovered they still profit from such an action in the end.”

“Hmm.” That might have been part of it, but Tate rather suspected she’d been right in her first assessment. She decided to move the conversation along, not wanting to create an enemy so early in the evening. She wasn’t sure how hard Jost would want her to push. “Have there been discoveries of this nature before?”

She was relieved when the server came and took her plate, replacing it with a cup that had a perfectly round ball in it. Tate watched her neighbors as they used a tiny spoon to crack the white ball and then scoop out the insides.

Tate mimicked them, the liquid on her spoon a dark raspberry red. She tasted it tentatively and almost moaned aloud as the flavor burst in her mouth.

What was this? She’d never tasted anything like it. She wanted more. She had a feeling she had discovered her new favorite food. Something to add to the short list of things she liked. A list she kept track of mentally as she ran across anything that sparked her interest. It had become sort of an obsession to find out her likes and dislikes. She never again wanted to be in a position where she couldn’t answer what her favorite food or color or season was.

“How can you say that?” Ithor asked, his voice making it clear he found whatever had been said objectionable. He was doing that superior than thou thing that the Kairi were capable of doing with their voices. The one that made you feel about as mentally tall as a snail. It was the tone of voice that Daiske reserved for when she failed with magic. It usually made her defensive which led to her mouth running away from her.

Tate had missed what set off the voice. Too consumed with the splendor that was her dessert.

“Humans always think they are the center of everything,” Gabriella said. “They’re like our young, asking ‘why can’t I’ over and over again, when the answer is obvious to everyone else.”

“Only the blind follow blindly,” Elijah fired back.

“And only a fool runs into a tsunami,” Ithor said.

Tate fought the urge to groan. These guys were destroying her joy of the dessert. It was hard to savor it with them bickering like little children, each convinced in their own inherent superiority. She wondered if it was always like this or if the promise of the discovery was making things worse.

She was grateful when the server came to take their dishes because it meant that dinner was almost over.

Jost stood. “I’ve prepared refreshments in the study for all who’d like them.”

Tate fought to keep from banging her head against the table. Why couldn’t this be over? She didn’t want to listen to another hour of this.

Dewdrop gave her a cocky grin, knowing exactly how much she wanted to be anywhere but here. She gave him a watered-down version of her death stare. She couldn’t do the full thing for fear that Elijah would see and think it was directed at him. She didn’t need him taking offense for something so minor.

No, if he was going to take offense it was going to be given intentionally. Perhaps with her boot or fist to help the message go down.

At least the change of scenery would allow her to escape the argumentative trio.

They rose and followed the crowd down the hall to another room. Tate was surprised to see most of those who’d attended the dinner chose to follow Jost. A few from each of the factions stayed behind or wandered off, including Ithor and Ronald.

Tate was happy to see that by ‘refreshments’ Jost really meant liquor. The stuff they’d served at dinner was far from what Tate was used to, sour and slightly bitter. Everyone else at the table had made murmurs of satisfaction. Not Tate. Give her a good ale any day over whatever that was.

She made her way to the little bar that had been set up in the corner of the room.

“What would the madam like?” the man standing behind the bar asked. He was dressed in the same outfit as the servers only without the apron.

Tate looked at the decanters in front of her. None of them looked like ale. She didn’t see any barrels of the drink behind him either. With that out, she had no idea what to order.

“You should try the Telave,” Gabriela said from behind her. “It has a nice bite without any of the bitterness of the Janere that was served at dinner.”

“How do you know I found the Janere bitter?”

Gabriela shrugged, the movement graceful. “You made a face every time you took a sip and you left most of it in the glass. Don’t worry. Most find it bitter at first. It grows on you after a while.”

“Some things are not meant to be grown.”

Gabriela threw her head back and laughed, the sound drawing notice from several of the other guests.

Tate eyed her with a sour expression. So glad someone found her amusing. It’s what she aspired to in life. Really.

“You’ll have to get used to it if you attend many dinners in company such as this. It’s a common drink among the upper class in much of the empire’s territories.”

Then Tate would make it a point to avoid all such events in the future.

To the bartender she said, “I’ll try the Telave.”

“Me as well,” Gabriela said.

They waited as the man selected a decanter that was a circular globe with a long spout at the top. It was filled with a bluish green liquid, making Tate wish she had known what the Telave looked like before deciding to try it. Judging by the color it was either going to be really good or really bad.

Feeling the need to fill the awkward silence, Tate turned to Gabriela. “What is your role in the proceedings?”

It would help if she could get an idea of why each person had been chosen to attend. She understood why the faction leaders were here, but what about everyone else? How much influence did each individual have on the leaders, and by extension, the talks? Until Tate knew that, she was feeling her way blind over treacherous ground.

“A relatively minor one,” Gabriela said, accepting the drink from the bartender.

Tate took hers and sipped at it, nearly coughing at the slight burn as the liquid went down. It set a fire in her belly. The taste was like spring. Light and airy with just a small bite to teach you respect. Tate liked it. Gabriela was right. It was a nice contrast to the Janere.

“Oh?” she said.

Gabriela shot her a glance out of the corner of her eye, the wry twist of her lips letting Tate know she was on to her.

“I’m in the protection detail.”

Tate looked from Gabriela to where Tala was talking animatedly to one of the academics.

Gabriela smirked at the thoughts evident in that glance. “It’s not always in your charge’s best interest to stick too close. You can’t see the threats clearly when you’re right next to them.”

“You also can’t act quickly enough when you’re too far away,” Tate said in a bland voice.

It seemed every thought she had tonight was said in a bland voice. Not insulting anyone was hard work. Almost as hard as the consequences that came with insulting everyone.

“True. That’s why there are more than one of us guarding our doyenne.” Gabriela nodded to several Silva Tate hadn’t paid attention to until now. They rotated around Tala as if she was their sun. Each alert to both their charge’s movements and that of the rest of the room. Gabriela then pointed Tate’s attention to several others. Each Silva kept an eye on Tala while also paying attention to their surroundings.

It was many layers of protection designed to trick the average observer into assuming Tala’s protection was weak.

Gabriella and Tate circled the room together. Now that Tate had realized the significance of the placement of many of the Silva, she noticed a similar placement of Kairi surrounding one of their older members, a man whose hair was nearly white, though his face remained unlined.

They were a little more obvious than the Silva. Two men hovered around the man, frowning at anyone who ventured too close. There was a second ring of protection around them, the additional guards creating an empty space that none dared trespass on. The man appeared content with his isolation, examining the room with his ageless gaze.

“That’s Shodon Yakani. He’s head of the fourth noble family. Once upon a time, when the Kairi still existed as their own kingdom, he would have been fourth in line for their throne. Most people just use his title, the Shodon, to refer to him. It’s considered an insult to use his name without express permission from him.” Gabriella sneered in distaste. “And nobody receives that permission.”

Shodon Yakani’s eyes met Tate’s, as if he’d heard what Gabriella had said. He lifted a hand and the man at his side bent down to listen to him. They conferred and then the guard straightened and walked toward Tate.

She drew to a stop and put a polite expression on her face, mentally telling herself she was not going to start a fight no matter what came out of this guy’s mouth.

The man gave Tate a half brow, the gesture surprising her. “The Shodon requests the honor of an audience.”

Gabriella made a choked sound next to her, something between a gasp and a snarl. The man in front of her didn’t react, keeping his black eyes trained on Tate. It was hard to tell his age, something that was the case with all Kairi since they lived longer lives than humans, but Tate would guess he wasn’t young. He had an air of competence and confidence.

His clothes were of the same quality as the rest of the Kairi but considerably less ornate and much easier to move in.

“Of course,” Tate said once she could find her voice again.

The man held his hand out to her. She eyed it for a moment, long enough that there was a slight shift in the man’s face. Enough to let her know that he’d be insulted if she refused to take the hand offered to her.

With a strained smile, she accepted, letting him lead her to the white-haired man that she was already calling Snowflake in her mind.

They passed the outer circle of protection just fine. There was a snarl and a grunt behind her. Tate turned to see another Kairi standing in front of Gabriella, staring her down.

“Only the Dragon-Ridden was invited,” he told Gabriella.

“I would think a stuffy Kairi would know it’s rude to appropriate someone’s companion when they’re in the middle of a conversation,” Gabriella said.

“She does have a point,” Tate said, wanting to see what they would do.

“She will get over it,” her guide said. “She has no doubt suffered far greater grievances in the course of one dinner with her own people.”

There was a sound of disagreement from Gabriella.

“And if I said I wanted her to come?” Tate asked.

The man looked at the Shodon, asking silently for guidance.

Tate peered over at the Shodon. “I thought the purpose of this mediation was for all of you to talk through your differences. You can’t do that if you’re sitting over here in a corner by yourself.”

The man’s eyes looked like the night if someone had stolen the stars, an inky darkness at the bottom of a long hole. There was the faintest ring of ice blue around the edge that Tate had come to realize was a sign of nobility. The other Kairis eyes were full black with no hint of white or blue. Tate found the effect unsettling.

His solemn face turned to the guard and he gave one small nod.

“Finally,” Gabriella muttered as the Kairi moved out of her way.

She joined Tate as the guard escorted her to the Shodon’s chair, where he surveyed the room like a king on his throne.

Once there they waited as he looked the two of them over. Gabriella drank her drink in one long gulp. Given the disdain Tate had heard in the other woman’s voice when explaining who the Shodon was, she wouldn’t have guessed Gabriella would be nervous now.

“So now that you’ve invited yourself to this conversation what do you plan to do?” the man asked in a deep voice.

For a minute Tate thought he was addressing her, then realized he meant Gabriella.

“Why would she need to do anything?” Tate asked, forestalling a response that was almost guaranteed to insult him.

“Little dragon, I have not decided what to do with you yet. It would be wise to keep that in mind,” he told her.

Tate refused to be intimidated. She had no plans to be antagonistic, but she wouldn’t let him scare her either. “I did not realize that you could do anything with me.”

“I am a powerful man who has not yet determined whether you are friend or foe. It would be better for your continued well-being to make sure you land on the friend side of the coin.”

Tate studied him, taking note of his rod straight back, his elegant clothes and smooth hands. Yes, he was a powerful man. She could see that at a glance. Did she care? Not really. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was no more capable of bending and scraping then she was of holding her breath for hours on end.

Besides, she had a feeling he would lose all respect if she were to default to that behavior. He’d probably push back if she was overly aggressive just from a matter of principal. How to strike a balance between the two responses?

Saviors toss it. She wasn’t a diplomat.

“I’ve never been accused of being very bright,” Tate said. “You do what you’ve got to do, and I’ll deal with the consequences.”

There was a long beat while Gabriella looked faintly horrified and the guard just the slightest bit amused. It was hard to tell. His face was pretty expressionless, so Tate could be misreading a case of gas for all she knew.

A dry chuckle came from the man. “You do not disappoint.”

Tate was so glad he was amused. Not.

“Umi was my granddaughter.”

Chapter Seven

Tate stilled.

Danger. Danger all around. Too bad she couldn’t go back in time and unsay her words about accepting consequences.

“How did she die?” His eyes were steady on hers. Tate had the feeling he would be able to tell if she lied.

“Kadien killed her at the Red Lady’s order,” Tate said.

She still had nightmares about it sometimes. She felt responsible, even though Umi and Kadien had been the ones to betray her first. Umi, though an irresponsible spoiled brat determined to get her way, had not deserved to die that way.

“Did she go with dignity?”

“She never saw it coming. There wasn’t time to do anything but die.” Tate didn’t know if that was a comfort or not.

To Tate, death was never dignified. It deserved to be raged against, fought against, even if you had to sacrifice that vaunted dignity. Life was meant to be clung to, survived, even when it was hard and easier to just give in and let death take you.

After all, it’s how she survived—the thought trailed off before completion. She couldn’t remember what she had survived or how, just that she had. Sometimes she’d get half a memory—really just a thought that came out of nowhere and led to nowhere.

She buried it until she would have time to examine it.

The Shodon’s face was expressionless at the news.

A door opened and a man announced, “The Duke of Spiritly and his daughter.”

A middle-aged man with sandy colored hair and bright green eyes stepped through, his eyes surveying the crowd with the intensity of a hawk deciding which mouse might taste the juiciest.

A woman clad in a gown the color of the sky right before daybreak—a deep indigo that made Tate think of new beginnings—stepped up beside him. Her light brown hair was in a complicated braid around the crown of her head and down her back, her almond shaped brown eyes peering curiously at the crowd.

Roslyn.

She hadn’t realized Roslyn’s family was quite so high reaching. What was she doing attending Daiske’s lectures if she had such an elite status? Surely she could afford private tutors if she needed them.

Roslyn’s eyes fell on Tate and she blinked. The duke moved away, calling a greeting to Jost. Roslyn looked between Tate and her father before following her father.

“Friend of yours?” the Shodon asked, his eyes on Tate’s face.

“I haven’t decided,” Tate said in a distracted voice.

“That’s probably best. Spiritly’s daughter has proven a disappointment so far. She’s been unable to forge a connection with any of their family relics. I suspect it’s a large part of why Spiritly funded this discovery. He hopes by finding unclaimed artifacts his daughter might have a chance to bond with them. She’ll be as vicious as a badger when it comes to earning her father’s approval,” the Shodon said, his attention drifting to where Spiritly pushed his daughter toward Jost. “Friendship won’t mean much to her until she has it.”

“What are these family artifacts, and why is it important that she can’t forge a connection?” Tate asked, wanting information more than she cared about exposing a weakness.

He studied her with a careful gaze. Tate kept her expression politely interested as if it was perfectly normal for her not to know.

“They’re weapons mostly,” Gabriella said, not letting the Shodon answer. “Some do other things like heal but for the most part they’re great and powerful magic that our people are unable to replicate.”

“Remnants of the time before the Saviors,” the Shodon said. “The great families, those whose origin is owed to that dark time, have kept and maintained them through the ages. Spiritly’s family owns three great relics and several minor ones according to rumor.”

“Only one of the great relics are in use right now,” Gabriella said. “The duke is the only one in the current generation to wield a great. The rest of his family have bonded with the minor artifacts. Roslyn showed potential early on. Everyone was convinced she’d bond with one of the top three, and if not that, at least a minor. Instead she’s approaching her twenty third birthday and no bond to her name. They call her the duke’s dud.”

Harsh. Now Tate could guess why she was in Daiske’s class. She hoped to unlock some knowledge or ability that would enable her to achieve her goal.

“You are surprisingly well informed for one who spends her life traipsing about the wilds,” the Shodon said.

Gabriella arched an eyebrow, her lips tilting in a cunning smile. “Most of our young are taught to know the snake in the brush. It’s the only way you’ll know whether it’s poisonous or not. And if it’s poisonous, it’s best to stamp it out early before it has time to corrupt others.”

The Shodon gave a small incline of his head. “Your people and mine have something in common then.”

Tate bit back her normal retort. She didn’t need to say it. They were getting along. No reason to antagonize them.

“Something you can both relate to—knowing your potential enemies. Before you know it, your two peoples will be bosom buddies,” Tate tried instead.

Gabriella looked like she’d bitten into a sour fruit at that statement. The Shodon’s eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit at the corners. Tate was sure. It wasn’t just her imagination.

Tate looked back at Jost, the duke and Roslyn. She frowned at the sight of another man standing at the duke’s side. Something about him was familiar from the back. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at the broad back and black hair.

Turn around. Turn.

His face turned just the slightest bit toward her. Ryu. It was him. She’d recognize that arrogant profile anywhere.

What was he doing here?

She sipped her drink and half-listened to Gabriella and the Shodon’s argument about the best way to confront an enemy of overwhelming strength.

She wanted to go up to him and ask him what he was doing here. She didn’t though.

She’d learned from her last adventure. No going off half-cocked. Some actions couldn’t be taken back. If Ryu was undercover or working some game, he wouldn’t appreciate her blowing his cover. Come to that, neither would Jost.

Though it wouldn’t really be her fault given that they both knew she’d be here and could have told her to pretend not to recognize him if she saw him.

Yes, if she did inadvertently break his cover, it would be his fault for not properly explaining things to her. Again.

Before Tate could make a move, the doors to the room burst open and a man staggered through. His server uniform was askew and his hair stood on end.

He didn’t seem to know what to do once he was inside, his eyes darting about the room. Several people turned to look at him, curious as to why he’d interrupted the gathering in such a loud matter.

Dewdrop approached from the corner, making a calming gesture with his hands. Tate kept an eye on things as the man’s voice rose.

“What’s going on?” Gabriella asked.

Her guess was as good as Tate’s.

“The servants here are not well trained,” the Shodon said. If he’d been anyone else, Tate would have attributed the accompanying sound to a sniff, but he was much too refined for that.

Jost turned to give her a look and nodded his head at the man and Dewdrop.

She gave both of her companions a small smile. “I’ll check it out. Please continue your conversation. I don’t think either one of you has laid out a convincing argument yet.”

She strode away before they could respond with more than a sputter.

“What’s going on?” she asked the servant through gritted teeth.

She didn’t like how much attention they were attracting. They needed to take this outside. Preferably five minutes ago.

“I need to get my lord. He needs to come quick.” The man’s voice trembled. He took a step toward where Jost entertained the duke and his daughter. Tala had just joined the discussion.

Jost looked over and made a small gesture to take it outside. Tate nodded, catching the man’s arm. “That won’t be necessary. Let’s step outside so we don’t upset anyone else. You can tell me whatever it is that’s got you bursting in and disrupting things.”

She started herding him back through the doors he’d abused when he’d made his entrance.

“I don’t think— I really need to tell my lord.” He twisted in Tate’s hand as if he was going to try to do just that.

She jerked him forward. Dewdrop grabbed his other arm, pulling him in their wake.

“No need for that. He’s already delegated this matter to me.” She shut the doors, cutting off the sound from those inside the room. Tate released the breath she was holding, hoping Jost would be able to keep his guests settled until she could find out what was wrong.

“Tell me why you felt the need to burst in there like the place was on fire,” Tate ordered.

“There was a man.”

Tate’s eyes narrowed. He had better not have caused all that fuss for something minor.

“And?” Her voice made it clear there had better be a pretty good reason.

His voice fell to a hushed whisper. “There was so much blood.”

Tate’s body stilled.

“Show me.”

The man gave a jerky nod, setting off with Tate and Dewdrop on his heels. He led them down several hallways and up a set of stairs. His hands shook as he pulled open a pair of oversized wood paneled doors painted a soothing blue.

“I found him in here. I thought he was just resting away from all the activity so I shook his shoulder. I didn’t expect it.”

“Expect what?” Tate asked, following him into the room.

The room was obviously in the servant’s wing. The paint and furnishings were nice, much nicer than Tate’s current lodgings, but nowhere near as nice as the rest of the mansion.

“That.” The man’s voice was haunted as he pointed at an armchair next to a fireplace.

The back of a man’s head was barely visible over the chair’s modest back. It was hard to tell what color hair he had with only the light of the fire and the candles on the side table to see by.

Tate stepped closer. “Sir. Are you alright?”

No answer.

She took another step closer. Dewdrop followed, his face grim and watchful. His hand dropped to his waist where a knife was hidden.

It made her feel slightly better to have him at her back.

By now she was close enough to the chair to touch the man. Cautiously, she stepped around and lightly touched his shoulder. His head lolled on his neck as he slumped sideways at her touch.

Now she knew why the servant had said there was so much blood. It was everywhere. Down the front of the man’s shirt, pooling on the floor. She suspected it had soaked into the fabric of the chair as well.

Worst of all, Tate recognized him. It was her dinner companion, the stiletto wielding Kairi that Tate had disarmed. He’d looked considerably better earlier in the evening. Now, his skin was a pale, ashy color, and the light dusting of golden scales had faded to a light blue.

Damn, she wished the servant had interrupted the gathering for something petty like running out of whatever appetizer they were serving. She could have yelled at him for panicking over such an insignificant matter and moved on. Instead, this body was going to cause her a lot of problems in the near future.

Dewdrop joined her as she stared at the body.

“That’s a lot of blood.”

“Yup.”

“I mean a lot,” he said.

“I know.”

“How does a body have that much?”

“Maybe the Kairi are special and produce more blood than humans.”

“You really think so?”

“No.”

A human male had approximately 4.7 to 5.5 liters of blood depending on weight. While Tate couldn’t accurately guess how much of it was decorating the walls and floor, she would guess the Kairi contained a similar amount in their bodies.

It looked like someone had shoved their hand in his chest and then ripped out his heart. The killing blow had been swiped across the man’s throat, leaving four wide open gashes. Looked like the killer had managed to puncture several arteries which would account for the massive blood loss. The kind that left this much mess. Wounds like these bled like a geyser.

The servant chose that moment to stagger away from them. The sound of retching reached her. Dewdrop flinched and looked like he might join. He looked every inch the youth that he was at that moment. His competence and stubbornness often made Tate forget just how young he really was.

Maybe not by street standards. People tended to grow up fast when they were street rats, but she figured given his occupation he hadn’t gotten up close to death.

Tate, by contrast, was curiously unmoved. There was no urge to hurl, no flinching from the blood. Nothing. As if she had been witness to similar scenes too many times to count. She didn’t feel particularly good, but there was definitely a detachment from the current violent murder. It was as if someone had flipped a switch on her emotions, allowing her to operate efficiently.

“Summon Jost,” she told Dewdrop, wanting to give him an excuse to leave the room. “Don’t let anyone from the party know what we found.”

“Like that’s going to be easy.” Dewdrop seemed to recover a little of his normal spark.

“You’re resourceful. I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Tate waved a hand around. “Distract. Misdirect. Obfuscate.”

“Obfuscate. Right.” He shook his head as he walked away.

Tate was glad she’d managed to distract him from the dead body. Sometimes she wondered if he’d have been better off if he’d never met her.

The servant made as if to follow Dewdrop.

“Not you.” Tate’s voice rang with authority. The servant froze. “They’re going to want to question you about this.”

“My lady, I told you. I discovered him already dead.” The man looked everywhere but at her and the chair.

She had a feeling if it hadn’t been the height of bad manners, he would have covered his eyes and started rocking back and forth. As it was, his gaze darted from floor to ceiling to far corner, glanced at the body and her before he gave an audible shudder.

“Wait there until someone can question you.”

She believed him when he said he’d simply discovered the body, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed anything. He might not even know it.

Tate looked around the room. There was no murder weapon that she could see, though there were scuff marks on the wood floor. An end table was on its side, and books and other objects littered the floor as if they’d been knocked aside during a struggle.

She glimpsed something out of her peripheral vision, a scrap of fabric at the window. She frowned and took a few steps forward so she could see better.

There it was again. Just a small flutter of movement.

Tate stepped closer, opening the window and pushing it out. She bit back a gasp as her heart leapt into her throat. A man was pinned to one of the flag poles just above the window. Blood dripped down the wall.

She forced herself to take note of the details surrounding him. His face was slack with scandalized surprise as if he couldn’t believe the sheer gall of the pole sticking out of his chest. He was familiar. Where had she seen him? That was it. He was the human that had pressed his agenda with Jost earlier. One of the ones with the Academy. Ronald.

The last thing she took note of was the faint markings in the stone and wood around the window. Markings that had a lot in common with the ones Night left with his claws around her window during his nightly excursions.

She ducked inside and stood staring at the window for a minute, before turning to look at Ithor with new eyes. Those gashes she’d noted earlier. They looked an awful lot like the sort of wounds claws would make.

Her attention dropped to the floor. Whatever had pinned Ronald to that pole had dragged him across the floor. She was willing to bet that was what had caused the scuff marks leading to the window. Whatever it was had to be strong to hoist a full grown, struggling man up to impale him on that pole.

“What made you come in here?” she asked from her spot before the window.

The servant blinked, struggling to keep his gaze from being drawn back to the chair with the body. Tate stepped forward and to the side, hoping that it would allow him to concentrate long enough to answer her questions.

“We were running low on ice. The majordomo asked that I refill the ice containers as it seemed the guests were apt to require additional drinks.”

Tate noted the ice buckets lying on their side on the floor. There was a small puddle beneath one.

“Where do you keep your ice?”

“In a cellar off the kitchen.”

“And where is that?” Tate asked.

He pointed to the back of the house. “In the east wing, several rooms down from the banquet hall.”

“On the first floor?” Tate lifted an eyebrow. If it was the same banquet hall they’d eaten in, she already knew the answer. That didn’t explain why he was up here on the second floor, on the complete opposite side of the house.

“Yes.”

“Where were you when he gave you this order?”

“Near the study where the guests were getting refreshments.”

There had to be a more direct path to the kitchen then going up the stairs. This room wasn’t even on an indirect path. From the mental map Tate had formulated of the place, it was pretty far out of his way.

“Why did you come this way?”

He flushed, and his eyes shifted away.

Tate’s voice had an arctic chill to it. “I would suggest you tell the truth. There’s been a murder which now requires a very delicate balancing act. The people downstairs will be looking for someone to blame. I would recommend not giving them a reason to look to you.”

“I second that opinion,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

Ryu’s eyes went directly to Tate as he stepped inside followed by Jost. His gaze ran over her, and it looked like he had to fight against himself to keep from taking a step towards her. If she didn’t know better, she would have said he looked concerned. About what? Her?

Jost didn’t look pleased to be called out of the gathering. Neither looked surprised at the sight of the body. Dewdrop must have briefed them on the way up. He stood in the doorway but didn’t try to join them in the room. Instead he faced the hallway to guard against any unexpected guests.

The servant dropped his gaze. “I had hoped to run into someone up here.”

Tate studied him. He was young and attractive. There were only a few reasons that she could think of that a young, attractive man might risk his employment by courting distraction while on the job.

“And who might that be?” Tate had a good guess.

His voice was shy. “There’s a woman who takes care of the upstairs. She has the prettiest smile. I thought I might spend a few minutes talking to her if I took this path since she had to take care of a few of the guest rooms.”

Tate looked at Jost. “Is anyone staying here tonight?”

She had thought the guests had procured lodgings on opposite sides of the city given the antagonism they felt for one another.

He shook his head. “No, but the rooms would have been prepared just in case.”

“Can she corroborate your story?” Tate asked. She didn’t think he was guilty, but then, a skilled assassin would need to be a good liar.

He shook his head. “We didn’t have plans to meet, and I didn’t see her before I stumbled onto this.”

“You just passed this way on the off chance that she might be available to smile?” Jost asked with a raised eyebrow.

The man flushed again and ducked his head in a nod.

“So you wanted to make eyes at a pretty maid. What happened next?” Tate asked.

“I didn’t see her in the main hall so I wanted to check the servant quarters before taking the back stairs down to the kitchen. That’s when I opened the door and noticed someone was sitting there.”

“How did you discover he was dead?” Jost asked. He was bent over for a closer look at the man’s wound.

“He didn’t answer when I greeted him. I would have just kept going but guests don’t normally come back here. They stay on the other side of the wall. He didn’t answer so I walked closer. That’s when I noticed the blood.” The man’s face got a little green at that admission.

Tate hoped he didn’t throw up on them. It was enough that she could smell bile mixed with the death.

“Then I noticed his throat and his chest.” The servant’s throat moved convulsively as he swallowed. “That’s when I ran to find help.”

“Did you notice anything before you came in?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing?” Tate asked. “What about any guests lingering in the hall?” Another head shake. “On the stairs?”

He hadn’t seen anything there either.

“Thank you,” Jost said before Tate could ask another question. “Wait in the room across from this one. We’ll want to question you and anyone else on staff, so don’t go anywhere.”

A threat was inherent in Jost’s voice, warning the man that if he did go anywhere he wouldn’t like the consequences.

They waited until the servant had exited the room and Dewdrop had pulled the door shut behind him.

“If this blood is anything to judge by, looks like his throat was ripped out before the person took his heart,” Jost told Ryu. “Both wounds are mortal. I doubt he would have survived even if he’d been discovered right after the attack.”

Ryu circled the chair to stare down at the body. His dark eyes cataloging every detail.

“Did the man tell you anything of note before we arrived?” Ryu asked.

Tate shook his head. “Nothing more than he’d been sent to fetch ice.”

“And evidently took a detour to say hello to a pretty girl,” Jost murmured in a sardonic voice.

“Bet it’s the last time he does that,” Tate said.

“I doubt it. Youth is amazingly resilient,” Jost said. “And the hormones of young men are a fearsome thing.”

They all turned back to study the corpse.

“There’s more,” Tate said.

Both men looked at her with raised eyebrows. She nodded to the open window. Ryu looked out first, his hands wrapping around the frame as he leaned forward to get a good look at the man pinned to the side of the wall like a shish kabob.

He stepped back, letting Jost take his place. Ryu moved close to Tate and touched a piece of hair lying against her shoulder. His eyes searched hers as if reassuring himself that she was fine. She opened her mouth to ask him why he was acting so out of character but never got the chance. He stepped away at the sound of a low string of curses from Jost as he ducked back inside and glared around the room.

“Just how bad is this?” Tate asked, setting Ryu’s odd behavior aside for now.

Ryu and Jost were silent for a long minute.

“That’s what I thought,” she said.

They didn’t need to say in words what their silence practically shouted. Tate didn’t see how these talks were going to succeed. Not when they already had bodies from two of the three factions.

“Any chance we can hide them?” she asked. “Not forever. Just until the culprit can be found.” And shoulder all the blame went unsaid.

“There are too many ways that can backfire on us,” Ryu said.

She sighed. She had a feeling he was going to say that.

Jost didn’t look any happier at the statement. He looked like he wanted to rip the bodies to pieces himself. But Ryu was right. There were too many ways hiding it could go wrong. Too many people already knew.

Tate doubted the servant would be able to keep his mouth shut and short of killing him or locking him up, which Tate wasn’t willing to do, there was no guarantee of his silence. It was unlikely they’d be able to get rid of the bodies unseen. Not with this many people around the mansion. There was also the small fact that their people would notice them missing and no doubt trace their disappearances to this evening.

“You know how this looks,” Jost said, looking at Ryu.

“I do.”

“They’re going to blame the Silva.” There was a beat of silence as they all looked at the body. It looked like it had been mauled by a lion. Or a certain bearcat. Tate kept that observation to herself. “You know what will happen if there’s another incident like the one at Rohar.”

“What incident?” Tate looked between the two when neither answered. “What incident?”

Jost folded his arms across his chest. “The locals blamed the Silva for some dead livestock that looked like it had been mauled by animals. Things escalated. They tried to have several Silva youths arrested for the crime. The Silva felt like they were being persecuted so they retaliated.”

“Nearly a hundred people on both sides lost their lives in the resulting bloodshed,” Ryu said in a quiet voice. He seemed almost removed from what was happening. Pensive. Like his mind was miles from here.

“That doesn’t even account for how many people starved to death all over the empire because the Silva shut down the trade routes between their lands. No food could get in or out. For Aurelia, who counts on farms that rely on those routes, it was not a good winter.”

“What do we do then?” Tate asked when it seemed nobody would add anything.

“Someone will have to investigate,” Ryu said after a long pause.

Jost didn’t look happy at the pronouncement. Tate didn’t blame him. His job had already been difficult. Adding a couple of bodies on top of things would make it downright impossible.

“We’ll have to call in the Black Order,” Ryu continued.

Jost swore, propping his hands on his hips and bowing his head. “I hate dealing with them.”

“We have no choice. The Kairi and the humans will try to blame the Silva. Unless someone can be proven guilty of these murders, the Silva’s Harridan will cut those trade lines and pull her people back into their territory.”

“You know what the Black Order’s like,” Jost said.

Tate didn’t. She’d heard of them, the order that was part civil service and part extortionist. People bribed them for protection from the Night Lords and the monsters in the catacombs. They helped in enforcing the Emperor’s laws even if the amount of coin determined which laws were enforced.

“I do,” Ryu said.

“They won’t deal with me. Not after that incident in Grenala. I’m still on their wanted posters.” Jost looked around the room with frustration.

“We’ll have Tate oversee them. They don’t know her so it’ll be our best chance for an impartial investigation. It will also give you a reason to distance yourself and stay neutral.”

Tate considered Ryu. He seemed off. Almost like he was just going through the motions. He didn’t venture near the body and after the one look outside, he kept his back to the window. Even his dragon seemed agitated from what Tate could see. He was mostly hidden by Ryu’s high collar, but the tip of the dragon’s wings were present as he paced back and forth along Ryu’s collarbone. Every few steps the wings would unfurl and stretch.

Jost looked at Tate, obviously expecting some kind of protest. She stared back. She wasn’t going to give it to him. She had every intention of staying close to this investigation. Neither one of them had put the marks or wounds together with Night. She didn’t want to risk that changing.

Tate knew that Night had nothing to do with this, but she’d seen how people treated him. Like a feral animal that should be put down. The Silva knew about Night. It was entirely possible if the finger landed on them, they’d point it right back at Night. The best way she could see to control the situation was to stay close.

“I’ll do it. What do you need me to do?” She knew nothing about how investigations were conducted or what went into overseeing the Black Order, but she’d learn.

Her answer seemed to jar Ryu out of whatever odd mood he was in. He studied her, his dark eyes suspicious.

“Most of it is monitoring their progress. They’ll have to report their findings to you. If they need help they can ask you for it,” Ryu said.

Sounded easy enough. She nodded at him, letting him know she would do it.

“Why aren’t you doing this?” she asked in curiosity. This seemed like the sort of thing he tended to involve himself in. “Don’t you normally like to take control in situations like this?”

Ryu took a deep breath and released it slowly. Tate knew from past experience this was his way of managing the frustration of having her question him once again. She got the sense people usually just fell all over themselves to do what he wanted.

Tate, on the other hand, always had questions. Not all of them were designed to irritate him. That was just an unexpected bonus.

“He can’t. He already has another matter to attend to,” Jost said before Ryu could say anything cutting.

“Involving the duke?” she asked.

He had arrived with the duke’s party.

Curiosity rose. Now Tate wanted to know what was so important that Ryu couldn’t be pulled off his current task to deal with what Tate had been told had the potential to divide Aurelia and its empire.

Ryu ignored her question. “Just gather information and report it to the Black Order when they get here. They’ll take it from there.”

Tate studied Ryu. She was missing something. She just couldn’t put her finger on what.

“This isn’t going to make me anymore popular with the Kairi,” she said, never taking her eyes from them.

Jost gave a sly smile. “I don’t know. You seemed pretty cozy with them during dinner and afterward.”

“If you call arguing cozy,” Tate said.

“The Shodon doesn’t usually allow the rank and file to converse with him, and I’ve never seen him voluntarily let a Silva address him. Only when at court and only if they are influential,” Jost said.

Ryu studied Tate thoughtfully. She could practically see the wheels in his head turning as he thought of ways to take advantage of what he’d just learned.

“What did you discuss?” he asked.

She gave a half shrug. “Not much. He asked me how Umi had died. Whether she had gone with dignity.”

“Your answer?”

“Said she never saw it coming.”

It was true in a sense. She hadn’t expected Kadien’s betrayal.

“Rumor has it that she was a favored granddaughter,” Jost said.

Tate glanced at him, wondering where he’d gotten his information from. The Kairi didn’t strike her as the type who had loose lips.

“Did he say anything else?” Jost asked.

“Just gave me a couple of tips about the duke and his daughter. Don’t know if they were designed to help or hurt.”

Given that Tate had been partially responsible for his granddaughter’s death, she wasn’t sure how much she trusted anything the man said.

Relationships were a tricky business. Umi might have betrayed her people and brought shame to the family name, but that didn’t erase the ties of emotion fostered over the course of a lifetime. You could love someone and hate them too. That love might even lead you to misplace the blame on others.

“Best to be careful with him. The old man is tricky. He has held his position this long by being good at the political maneuverings of both the Kairi and the Emperor’s courts,” Jost warned.

“Dig around. See what you can turn up,” Ryu ordered.

Jost shot one last glance at the body and swore. “This is going to make things worse than being caught between two mating sea serpents. We’re going to get savaged no matter the outcome.”

Tate couldn’t help but agree.

Chapter Eight

Jost and Ryu decided there was no reason to postpone telling the rest of the gathering what had happened.

Ryu pulled away from them before they reentered the crowd. He hung back letting them continue on without him. Tate took it to mean that his companions didn’t know of his involvement with Tate and Jost. She wondered if they knew of his status as Dragon-Ridden. She doubted it. She seemed to remember Roslyn saying she’d only met one in her life and that the meeting had seemed to be a distant, not fond memory.

Would they notice his absence after the announcement? She would have, but then she knew just how sneaky Ryu was.

Tate and Dewdrop flanked Jost as they walked into the room, where Danny tried in vain to placate the rest who knew something was happening but hadn’t figured out what. The group quieted once they saw the Jost and Tate.

Dewdrop stuck close to Tate. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. Ryu and Jost haven’t said anything, but I have a feeling this may derail the mediation,” she said in a hushed voice.

She followed Jost to where the Shodon held court, his guards looking ready to bar anyone from getting close. Jost and Ryu had decided that they should be told about their companion’s death first. The guards let them through at a sharp word from the Shodon.

Gabriella caught Tate’s eye and lifted one eyebrow. Tate didn’t respond and turned her attention back to the conversation taking place in front of them. She doubted the other woman had killed the man upstairs but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved. At this point, it was best to separate herself from others so she could look at things objectively.

Tate and Dewdrop hung back at the edge of the circle. She’d like to avoid drawing notice until necessary.

“How does this affect us?” Dewdrop asked. What he was really asking was if there was a way for them to cut bait and run.

“They’ve put me in charge of working with the investigators.”

“Who is investigating?”

“They’re calling in men from the Black Order.”

His groan was small and went unnoticed by the others.

“Only you, Tate, would get involved in something like this. The Black Order is filled with thugs and murderers, given absolution because they work in the emperor’s name. They hate the Dragon-Ridden because they’re out of the Order’s reach. They’re going to have your head if they can.”

Tate was very much afraid that he made a good point. She didn’t tell him about the markings or her fear that Night might be blamed.

“I guess we’ll just have to figure this out so that my head stays where it belongs.”

He snorted. “We?”

She gave him a tight smile. “You didn’t think you’d get out of this so easily, did you? We’re a team, or so you said when you forced your way into this.”

He sighed, not looking happy at the turn of events. Maybe that would teach him to not accept jobs from Ryu.

“I hope you have some type of plan,” he hissed.

“I’m working on it.”

“You’ve caused quite a stir among these people,” the Shodon observed in a mild voice to Jost, his emotions hidden behind a neutral expression. He stood a little apart from the knot of Kairi that had formed around Jost.

“Though regrettable, it was unfortunately unavoidable,” Jost said. His back was ramrod straight. He had an implacable expression on his face.

The Shodon gave a humorless smile, emotion not touching his eyes. Tate got the sense he knew what was coming. “I’m sure you’re about to explain what has caused our mediator to act so rudely.”

“Perhaps this would be best done in private,” Jost said.

“I think this is as fine a place as any to share your news.”

If Tate hadn’t known Jost as well as she did, she would have missed the slight tightening of his lips that said he wasn’t happy about that answer. Or the suspicion that gathered around the corners of his eyes. Much of her time on his ship had been spent observing those around her. It was a defense against the holes in her memory. As a result, she’d become quite good at reading the crew’s micro expressions.

“It is my regret to inform you that one in your party no longer walks under this sky.”

That was a poetic way to say his throat had been cut and he’d been left for dead.

The Shodon’s face showed no expression. Not grief. Not rage. Or any other emotion Tate was familiar with. It was like looking at someone who had been carved from stone. Not even a twitch to give away what he was feeling.

“Do you know who?”

“I believe his name was Ithor Aisao,” Jost said.

Tate focused on the guards and those standing close, all Kairi, who were in hearing distance. Shock and acceptance appeared on several faces. Tate was interested to note the lack of sadness or grief. No one protested that his words were impossible. More than one didn’t look particularly surprised at the news.

Tate found that interesting and made a note to compare observations with Dewdrop later.

“Ithor? Are you sure?” a Kairi male asked, coming to stand at the Shodon’s shoulder. His eyes were sharp and he had a thin face and thin body. This was not a warrior. He didn’t carry the same deadly grace as the rest of them.

“Yes,” Jost said.

“Do you have the culprit in hand?” the man demanded.

“The person who discovered the body didn’t see who killed him.”

The man scoffed. “Probably because he was the one to kill Ithor. Let us talk to him. I’m sure we can get the truth out of him.”

“You mean torture him into confessing?” Tate asked in a quiet voice. “Because that’s so reliable.”

The man gave her a cold glare, all but looking down his nose at her. It made Tate want to retaliate with a snide comment, but she kept her reaction locked down, wanting to hear his response. “Whatever it takes to find the person responsible for Ithor’s death.”

“The person has already been questioned.” Jost’s voice was the calm in the storm Tate could sense gathering.

“We have a right-”

Jost interrupted. “In the event of violence during a mediation, the mediator and the witness decide the course of events so that all involved can be assured of a fair outcome, one untainted by politics. We’ve called in the Black Order to conduct the investigation. The witness will oversee their efforts.”

The man snapped his mouth shut as he shot Tate a narrowed glance. He was not happy with that response. The guards and the Shodon looked her over with perfectly blank expressions. She couldn’t get an idea of what they thought about her involvement.

The Shodon clasped his hands in front of him, his sleeves falling to cover his hands. “This unfortunate event has tired me. We will depart so we may say prayers to guide his way to the ancestors.”

Tate opened her mouth to protest; Jost made a sharp gesture to cut her off.

He gave the Shodon a short bow. “Of course. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow once you’ve had time to mourn your man.”

The Shodon gave a small nod and swept out, accompanied by his guards. The rest of his people followed behind.

Tate stepped up to Jost and said in a low voice meant only for his ears. “What are you doing? Someone will need to talk to all of them, establish who has an alibi. Find out who was here and who was missing in the time surrounding the deaths.”

She did not like that he had just dismissed a key group that the men from the Black Order would deem vital to speak to. She didn’t know much about investigations but time struck her as being of the essence. Their dismissal would give them a chance to close ranks and decide on the story they wanted told.

“Do you have a reason to suspect one of them might be involved in Ithor and Ronald’s death?”

“There’s no reason not to suspect them. For all we know, his death is a misdirect by one of them designed to derail the talks.”

It was entirely possible. From what Tate knew of the Kairi, it was the type of political maneuver they excelled at.

“Either way, none of them would have talked to you or the Black Order tonight. Tell the Black Order to follow up with them in the morning,” Jost said.

That was the point of questioning. To determine if there was a reason to suspect. Not that it mattered now that Jost had dismissed them.

Jost turned to the rest of the gathering whose whispers were beginning to fill the room. Danny remained in place on the other side of the room. Tate noticed he’d positioned himself in front of the door.

To keep people from trying to leave until Jost was ready? Or was it just coincidence?

Jost held up his hands for silence.

“There has been an incident,” he started.

“Obviously,” the Duke said in a dry tone of voice as he drifted closer to Jost and Tate. Tala approached from the opposite direction, curiosity alive on her face.

She inhaled a deep breath, tilting her head before her eyes came to rest on Tate. “Someone is injured.”

Tate blinked. She glanced down at her hands, knowing that there was no blood on them. She hadn’t touched either body as it was obvious even from a distance that both men were dead.

She gave Tala a considering look. The woman had an incredibly powerful sense of smell if she could tell there had been blood present just by a sniff of Tate and Jost.

What other feats were the Silva capable of?

“Two people are dead,” Jost said simply.

Tala and the duke’s faces were just as controlled as the Shodon’s. No expression slipping free to give observers a hint of what they were feeling. Not surprising for people who were heavy hitters in the empire’s political mire. They would have to be skilled at diplomacy to have lived this long.

“One of the Kairi,” Tala said, her eyes sharp and assessing.

The duke glanced at her and then back at Jost, his face thoughtful.

“Yes,” Jost confirmed.

“Who else?” someone asked. Tate thought he looked like one of the investors.

“We prefer to keep that to ourselves until his family can be informed,” Jost said.

“You told the Kairi.”

“The Shodon acts as the head of any family for those at this meeting. He will convey his regrets to the man’s family in our place. The other was human and his family is likely in this city and deserve to be informed first.”

The human who’d objected didn’t look satisfied by that response, but he didn’t argue when Jost moved on.

“Talks will have to be delayed,” the duke said.

The Silva expressed their disagreement in growls. The humans were a little more circumspect with their voiced objections. Only a few seemed relieved by the statement

“They will go forward unless I or the witness decide otherwise,” Jost said in a cool voice. “We will not let the actions of one derail this mediation.”

The duke didn’t look happy at that pronouncement. Tala looked thoughtful. Gabriella came to stand by her lady as she watched everyone else. Tate let her gaze roam over those in the room, noting who seemed to have something to say and those that were keeping their emotions locked down.

“The Black Order will be called in to investigate. I have every faith that they will work tirelessly to bring the men’s murderers to justice.” He met each person’s eyes. “Until then, feel free to enjoy the refreshments we’ve prepared for you.”

A few lost little time in leaving, the announcement putting a pall on the gathering. The conversation was subdued when it resumed. The academics seemed mostly intent on guessing who it was that had been killed. More than a few guessed correctly.

Gabriella fell into step beside her. “I find it interesting that your people didn’t order the Kairi to remain to be questioned by the Order.”

“They’ll be questioned tomorrow once they’ve had time to mourn,” she said.

Gabriella snorted. “They don’t mourn. That would imply they care.”

Before Tate could reply, Tala joined them. Her amber eyes were sharp. Tate could see frustration there and behind it all a hint of fear.

“Your mediator tells me that you will be liaising with the Black Order during this investigation.”

Tate inclined her head.

“I hope you’ll convey how inappropriate it would be for them to make assumptions without evidence.”

Tate blinked. She’d kind of assumed that was obvious.

“I’m sure the Black Order is aware of that.”

Tala’s snort was surprisingly unladylike for a person wearing such a delicate dress. “I wouldn’t bet on it. They have a long history of casting stones long before it is prudent to do so.”

Tate didn’t know how to respond. She settled for saying, “I will be sure to inform them of that.”

Tala gave her a firm nod before turning to Gabriella. “This news has wearied me. I think it is time to head home.”

“Of course, Doyenne.” Gabriella inclined her head and made a sharp motion. The rest of the guards moved, their configuration changing as they placed Tala in the center.

Before she left, Tala turned to Tate. “My Ayer and Lennart have informed me that your friend has much in common with my people. You and he should visit us in our home in the city. I’m sure we have much to talk about.”

Tate didn’t know what to do with that invitation so she nodded and smiled. Night might kill her tomorrow when he learned they had an engagement, but it was the only graceful response she could come up with. “I look forward to it.”

Tala gave her another nod and then swept out of the room, her guards and Gabriella moving in perfect synchronization with her.

Tate turned back to the gathering. There weren’t many groups to choose from and even fewer with people she recognized. She saw Roslyn on her own across the room and moved to intercept her. She’d wanted to speak to her all night. Now was as good a time as any.

Roslyn straightened as Tate stopped next to her. She shot an unsure glance to where her father held court with several Academics in attendance as they pleaded their case. Ryu stood at his side. The duke’s lips tightened when he noticed Tate with his daughter, but he gave Roslyn a sharp nod.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Tate said in a dry voice.

Roslyn blinked, her face unsure.

“Did you know we were attending the same party in Ashwin’s shop?” Tate asked when Roslyn wasn’t forthcoming.

“No.” Her answer was soft. “I didn’t know my attendance would be required until afterwards.”

Tate studied the woman, not sure if she believed her.

“You arrived after dinner, right?” Tate asked. “That’s right around when the murders happened. I don’t suppose you noticed anyone on your way here.”

She shook her head. “No, just the servants.”

Frustration nipped at Tate as the Duke of Spiritly joined them. Roslyn seemed to fade into the background as soon as he arrived. It was not behavior Tate was used to from someone so confident while speaking about magic theory or demonstrating a difficult spell.

The duke’s face was calm as he kissed his daughter on the cheek and then turned to Tate. He was perfectly poised. The epitome of a gentleman.

It set Tate’s instincts tingling.

The duke was in good shape, despite the fact that he was nearing the middle of his life. This wasn’t someone who was content to let themselves go as age encroached. Nor did he seem to be given to the excesses that dogged others in his position.

He moved with the grace and self-awareness of someone who’d learned the fighting arts. His clothes were finely tailored without being ostentatious. His eyes had an intellect brimming behind them very like his daughter’s. Tate could see Roslyn in his features. She must have got her coloring somewhere else, but her bone structure, that force of personality came from this man.

The duke studied her in turn. His green eyes hawk-like in their intensity.

“Well, here I am. Are you going to ask any questions?” he asked after a long pause.

Tate frowned at him. That was rather direct. Especially since she’d been going out of her way to make it appear as if she was only interested in casual conversation.

His smile was humorless. “It’s obvious what you’re after.”

Roslyn looked between the two of them with unease.

Well if he insisted. “Why did you invest in this endeavor?”

He frowned, the question unexpected. “What relevance does that have on things?”

Tate shrugged one shoulder. “Probably nothing. Maybe everything. That’s the thing with these sorts of matters. You never know what’s what until the matter is resolved.”

“The perfect opportunity to uncover someone’s secrets.”

She gave him a sharp toothed smile. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. It made her want to push him. “Very good. Yes, secrets have a way of coming to light when you're stumbling around trying to uncover something else."

“Then whoever murdered the Kairi made a mistake.”

“How so?”

“He gave someone, you or the Order, the opportunity they needed to skulk about asking the sorts of things myself and others with stakes in this discovery wouldn’t want asked.”

“So you admit you have secrets.”

He gave a careless shrug. “Everyone has secrets. That doesn’t mean you’ll be able to uncover them.” He was very confident of that.

“Again, why did you invest in this?”

“I suspect you already have an idea of my reasons.”

Evasion. So original.

“You know how unpredictable rumors are. I’d like to hear the truth from your own lips.”

The duke’s eyes blazed with a green fire. He didn’t like that she continued to press. Good. Perhaps his anger would lead him to reveal something by accident. Though, Tate doubted it. The man was entirely too self-possessed for that. It made him entirely untrustworthy.

For a moment, Tate thought he would refuse to answer her question. She was already preparing a counter question.

He sighed, the sound making it clear that he found this entire matter trying. “It’s no big secret. Half the city knows.” He leaned forward. “My daughter has been unable to bond or master the artifacts in my family’s possession. It’s my hope that this new discovery might give her another chance to take her rightful place.”

Roslyn made a small movement that spoke of hurt. Her eyes dropped to the ground and she seemed to fold in on herself, for a moment appearing nothing like the self-assured student Tate knew.

“It was my understanding that not everyone can bond with an artifact.”

He nodded. “That is true.”

“Then why is it so important that Roslyn find one to master? It’s no great flaw to be unable to form a bond.”

Tate didn’t like the implication that Roslyn was lacking simply because she was the same as most of the population. She especially didn’t like it when he made it right in front of his daughter to a stranger.

The duke’s chuckle was warm and amused. “Maybe if you’re a commoner. For one of the Spiritly line, it is considered a most egregious flaw. No, there will not be too many other chances like this. Roslyn must be allowed to bond with one of the artifacts.”

And there it was. Tate had known he would say something that would make her want to punch him.

“I hear that these artifacts are powerful. What makes you think that the mediator will find in your favor? Seems to me that too many artifacts in one family will destabilize the power structure in this little section of the world.”

“Indeed. However, Lord Dampier will have no choice to find in our favor.”

Tate’s interest sharpened. That almost sounded like a threat. She wished someone would threaten Jost. It would make this whole thing go much quicker.

“Does he know this?” Tate asked.

The duke gave her a smile. “Once he examines the facts, he’ll concede that the Academy is the only one with any legitimate claim. They are the ones who put in the work, who financed the search. They should reap the rewards.”

“Them and you, right?”

Ah, there it was. The faintest tightening around the corners of his eyes.

“And anyone else who invested in the endeavor.”

With the duke getting the biggest share of the pie no doubt.

The duke struck her as the sort to get what he wanted. She had a feeling that despite his ties to the upper echelons of the city, he was dangerous given the right situation or when he wanted something badly enough.

She couldn’t justify going down this line of questioning any further. She’d gotten a peek at what motivated him. It wasn’t much different than what motivated most. He wanted more power, more wealth. His daughter was just the excuse. He probably would have funded this discovery even if she’d been able to bond with one of the family artifacts.

Roslyn stared off into the distance, as if she was trying to pretend that she was elsewhere.

“I hear my daughter thinks highly of you,” the duke said. “You will have to call on her someday soon before this is all over. I’m sure she would like to speak with another classmate about the possibilities that have been unearthed.”

Tate’s smile froze to an icy grimace. “I hadn’t realized you knew we attended class under Instructor Daiske.”

“I keep track of anyone my daughter comes in contact with. Our family is powerful. There are always those who seek to take advantage of our good fortune. It pays to nip such things in the bud before they can take root.”

Just the kind of thing every daughter wanted to hear. That her father kept a close watch on her every action. Tate couldn’t imagine living under such an oppressive man. Having every move tracked, and if someone wasn’t the sort that her father approved of having them removed.

For once Tate was glad that she had no family to call her own. If this was the sort of thing that awaited her once her memories returned, perhaps she was better off.

Tate didn’t know how else to respond so she just nodded.

The duke and his daughter departed.

Tate found a corner and stayed there. That conversation had destroyed her appetite to mingle. She just wanted to go home. That couldn’t happen until the men from the Black Order got here, which meant she was stuck until they arrived.

She had learned little over the past hour except that the duke wanted power, his daughter might have befriended Tate for the chance to manipulate her and that nobody had seen or heard anything related to the murder.

“You look like you had about as much luck as I did,” Dewdrop said, joining her against the wall.

Tate groaned. “Don’t get me started.”

“Was that the Duke of Spiritly I saw you talking to?”

Tate nodded.

“Learn anything?” The tone of Dewdrop’s voice made it clear that he expected the answer to be no.

“Not about the murder. Asked about his reasons behind funding the discovery.”

“Did he give you anything?”

“Not much. Fed me a story about how it was all for his daughter. So she could have a chance to bond with new, untainted artifacts.”

“You didn’t believe him,” Dewdrop said, studying her. He sounded surprised.

“Yes and no. I can’t explain it, but I think there’s more to the story.” Tate shook her head, deep in thought.

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s not what he said. It’s what he didn’t say.” Tate leaned forward. “How did he know he was financing an expedition that would uncover artifacts? Do most of these things turn up artifacts?”

Dewdrop shrugged. Tate sat back. That’s right. He had as little familiarity with these kinds of things as she did. Ryu might be a better person to ask or better yet one of the academics.

“It just seems like a pretty big leap to fund this discovery and then suddenly they uncover the find of a century,” Tate said.

“Unless he has a hand in funding most of the current expeditions,” Dewdrop said.

“It’d certainly give him first dibs on anything that is discovered,” Tate agreed.

“I talked to the servants.”

Tate lifted her eyebrows. Did he now?

He gave her a shy grin. “I figured they’d be more likely to talk to me seeing as I look like one of them. With the way you’re dressed tonight and the company you’ve been keeping, they might have been a little tongue tied if you started asking questions.”

Tate gave him a half smile, conceding his point. He was most probably right. She wasn’t dressed to blend. People tended to hold back less if they thought they could relate to you on some level.

“Find out anything?”

His face screwed up in regret. “Not much. Most of them kept to their assigned duties. The sweetheart of the man who reported the murder was the only one anywhere near there.”

“What’d she have to say?”

“Don’t know as we’ve yet to track her down.”

Tate sat up. Now that was interesting.

“She’s gone?”

He nodded. “Near as anyone can figure it. She’s not among the remaining staff. The majordomo did say there is a chance that she may have completed her tasks and signed out for the night.”

“But there’s a chance she could have witnessed what happened.”

“Or done the killing herself.”

“For what reason?”

He gave a careless shrug. “She could have been a plant. Joined the staff a few weeks before hand for just this purpose. It’s something that Lucius might have done.”

“Is she new?”

“I didn’t ask how long she’d been with the staff. Even if she’s been here awhile, that doesn’t clear her. Some of the Night Lords plant people in the houses of the Upper city years in advance and then activate them only when an opportunity presents itself. She might have just been part of a long-term agenda that got activated early.”

Tate made a sound to indicate she was thinking.

She didn’t want to assume the maid was innocent or guilty without some kind of proof. Until she could find the woman, they would need to investigate all possibilities.

“When is the Black Order going to get here?” Tate asked.

Dewdrop shrugged. “I thought they were already here.”

“What?”

“There were a couple of men that arrived a while ago to take a look at the body.”

Tate straightened and headed for the doors. When had that happened? How had she missed it?

“Where are you going?”

“To introduce myself. I’m supposed to be overseeing them.”

He caught up to her. “That’s going to be hard.”

She stopped and turned to glare down at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “They’re already gone.”

Tate cursed. So much for sticking close to them.

She stepped outside the parlor and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going now?”

“Home.”

Chapter Nine

It smells like they have a forest in there, Night said, his barbed tail swishing back and forth.

“How do you know what a forest smells like? Aren’t all of your memories of the tunnels or the city?” Tate asked.

Some things are impossible to forget.

Night padded up the steps to a door painted a green usually found in the deepest forest under the shade of its canopy.

Tate followed.

Dewdrop had remained behind to see if he could work some of his former contacts and gain information about the missing maid. After their neighbor had said she’d look after the cubs, Night had agreed to tag along for the day’s adventure. Tate suspected it was mostly because her two friends had decided it was best that somebody keep an eye on her, being of the opinion, that if trouble was anywhere to be found then she would find it.

She chose to see it as a sign they cared rather than a lack of confidence. There was also the fact that they might have the smallest bit of a point.

Tate lifted the knocker and rapped it against the door several times. Then they waited.

“You hear anything inside?” Tate asked after a long moment.

One ear flicked at her.

“Well?” she said when he didn’t respond.

There was a gusty mental sigh. The door is thick. It muffles sound.

She frowned. “Is that a yes?”

It’s an ‘I don’t know.’

That wasn’t very helpful.

Tate gave Night a skeptical look, knowing very well just how attuned those pointy ears were to the slightest sound. He certainly seemed able to hear the faintest cry of distress from Willa or Pax when they were several rooms away.

His ears shot upright and an attentive look registered on his feline face.

Tate straightened and donned a smile just as the door was yanked open. An unfriendly man who only came up to Tate’s chest glared up at her. He was old, bent and gnarled by time. His hair fell in a shaggy mane down his neck, the color almost white, putting her in mind of one of the snow cats. He bared one fang at her, his amber eyes almost feral.

Tate’s smile stiffened and she fought the urge to take a step back. He reminded her of a predator. One that might give chase at any sign of weakness.

The man’s eyes dropped to Night and bugged almost comically. Night yawned, showing an impressive mouth of needle sharp teeth. He huffed afterwards and a small rumble escaped him.

The man’s hair moved, stiffening and growing like fur on an animal when faced with another predator.

Tate stepped forward, drawing the man’s feral gaze. “I’m here to see Tala. Is she in?”

Night gave another huff, this one sounding oddly like a laugh.

“Who wants to know?” The words came out in a rumble that stopped just short of a growl. It was the sort of sound Tate had only heard Ryu make once he was nearing the end of his patience.

A hand shot out of the darkness, rapping the man on the back of the head.

“That isn’t how we answer the door, Caric.” Gabriella stepped into view. Today she was wearing clothes similar to the first time Tate had seen her, only these were a little more refined. Comfortable but elegant. Her hair was bound in several braids that were tied back from her face into one tail down her back.

Tate was jealous of the effortlessness with which she pulled off the look. Dewdrop had lamented over Tate’s limited wardrobe for nearly an hour, before pulling out a pair of grey pants and a loose top in the color of deepest blue.

“Not my fault, Ayer. The beast was the one to challenge first.”

“He yawned,” Tate said in affront. Privately, she could see how he might have taken that as a challenge. Mostly because it had been, if a back handed one that made sense only in Night’s feline brain.

“I don’t care if he tried to mark his territory by sharpening his claws on the front door. When you answer this door, you are to be unflappable. Like a raindrop on a sunny summer day.”

Tate didn’t quite get the comparison, but she was glad that they weren’t going to attack because of one mistimed yawn.

Gabriella looked at the two of them and gave them a smile, baring many of her pointy teeth in the same manner as her friend. “Please. Come in. We’ve been waiting.”

That didn’t sound ominous at all.

Caric shook his head, leaving Tate to capture the door as he shuffled away muttering, “So many rules in this infernal cage.”

Gabriella waited until he was out of ear shot. “He’s not used to the city yet. It’s taking him a while to get into a routine with how things work here.”

“How do you guys normally answer a door?” Tate couldn’t help but ask.

Gabriella’s smile turned wicked. “With claws and teeth.”

“Ah.” Tate wasn’t sure how else to respond as Gabriella sauntered off down the hall.

She gave Night a look. “Maybe it’s best to keep your yawns on the inside until we’re out of this place.”

He gave a mmrph before padding after Gabriella. Tate was left to bring up the rear.

It gave her time to observe their surroundings. From the outside, the townhome appeared narrow but long. Inside, it looked much wider than she had assumed. At first, she thought they’d created the effect through an optical illusion. The human brain was surprisingly easy to fool. Something bugged her about that assumption, though. Her spatial sense just couldn’t reconcile the narrowness from outside and with the wide, airy space in which she currently stood.

She examined the space with a closer look, noting two doors on the same wall as the door she’d just entered from. So that’s how they did it. The house looked wider because it actually was. They’d taken the townhomes on either side and joined them, knocking down any walls so that everything was connected. It meant that instead of one entrance from the street, there were three.

The ceiling soared high above and there were plants on almost every surface. There were nooks and crannies for seating in every room they passed. Benches designed to welcome those who’d like to spend a lazy afternoon curled up on cushions reading. Ceilings made of glass let natural light into the rooms.

Tate’s ears caught the sound of water moments after Night made a purr of discovery and trotted into a room that led to an indoor grotto. A pool surrounded by lush vegetation meandered through the space. Stepping stones had been placed in a path across the small pond.

“Night, come back here,” Tate hissed as he leapt onto one of those stones and then another. She shot Gabriella a glance, anticipating some type of objection to their presence in the grotto. Gabriella looked back at her with a placid expression but made no move to prevent them from exploring.

Night stared down at his reflection, his ears tilted forward in curiosity. Tate hopped onto the stone next to him. Now she knew why he was so interested. Fish clad in every hue of the rainbow darted back and forth in the reeds.

Night bobbed up and down, one paw lifting as his eyes tracked the movement.

“Don’t even think about it,” Tate told him. “We barely got off with that yawn. I don’t want to have to defend you if you eat one of their pets.”

He wasn’t listening. His muscles coiled tighter.

“Night.” Her voice held a distinct thread of warning.

His paw darted out, missing the fish but splashing Tate.

She darted away, tripping but managing to save herself from the water. She turned back to him with narrowed eyes to find him sitting as innocently as possible, feet carefully placed and an expression of ‘who me?’ on his face.

“And I thought felines didn’t care for water,” Tate said.

His whiskers pointed forward. I’m not exactly a feline, am I?

“Could have fooled me,” Tate said under her breath.

A soft chuckle reached them. Night bounded off the stepping stones to join Tate on the patio next to the manmade pond.

Tala moved out of the trees, her feet whispering over the grass before stepping onto the cool tile of the patio.

With Tala revealing herself, Tate was suddenly able to make out several other shapes in the vegetation surrounding them. Tala’s guards. At least that was Tate’s hope.

“You could have warned me,” Tate told Night.

He didn’t respond. His tail flicking lazily.

He might not be all feline, but Tate was willing to bet that was the predominant species the creators based him off.

“Witness, you grace us with your presence.”

Tate sighed. There they go. Diplomacy and politics already. Her head hurt.

“Tate, if you please.” Tate mustered a smile, one that said I’m harmless so please answer my questions.

“Only if you will call me Tala.” The other woman’s smile was much more charming than Tate’s. Even if it was formed with a carnivore’s teeth.

Tate bowed her head, stuffing down any uneasiness the sight of so many sharp teeth might have caused her.

“That should be simple enough.”

“Will you walk with me?” Tala gestured to the indoor forest.

Tate eyed the trees and surrounding guards, aware that in there she might not see an attack coming.

“Ah, sure.”

She stepped forward, walking at Tala’s side. She glanced over her shoulder to see Night meandering in their wake. He was easily distracted, stopping to take deep breaths, dragging the scents over the roof of his mouth. He stuck his face in more than one bush, coming out with leaves and other things stuck to his fur.

“Your friend seems to enjoy our sanctuary,” Tala said.

Tate’s attention snapped back to the other woman. “It would seem so.”

Tate winced at that response. It was bland and generic. The type of thing an airy headed courtier might say. She didn’t know why Tala threw her for a loop, just that the other woman did. It made her want to be guarded yet well liked at the same time.

“He is welcome here any time he needs a respite from the city,” Tala said. She seemed to slip effortlessly through the trees and bushes, while Tate sounded like a herd of dragons crashing about. “I know Aurelia can weigh on the senses of beings such as us. It helps to know there is a place to rest, away from it all.”

Tate frowned and looked back at Night. Was he having trouble living in the city? She assumed his needs were being met, having figured that anything was better than the tunnels she’d found him in. Doubt crept in when he looked like he was having the time of his life exploring the scents and sensation in this place that even Tate could tell was special.

There was just something about it. Something she’d call magical if she was another type of person. A sense of peace that only the oldest forests in the deepest part of the wilds seemed to have. A well of calm and well-being that Tate didn’t even know was missing until she walked through this place.

“You should probably tell him that yourself. He makes his own decisions,” Tate told her. “I’m sure he will be happy for the invitation.”

Though he wouldn’t be able to take advantage until after the mediation was over. Or maybe he should visit. See if he could discover anything of use.

Tate would have to think on this.

They walked in silence for several moments. Night bounded in front of them. His run more of a gallop.

“Where did you find him, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Tate looked at Tala out of the corner of her eye, trying to sense any hidden hostilities. Some people, not all but some, thought Night was an aberration. A failed creation—one not worthy of the Saviors’ attention—a thing that should be put down. All Tate saw was curiosity and maybe a little awe.

It could be a trick, but Tate decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“We found each other. I was in the catacombs, and we ended up saving one another a couple times.”

“This was when the Kairi woman tried to sell the fulcrum to the highest bidder.” Tala sounded sure of her facts.

Tate froze. That wasn’t common knowledge. The Kairi had come entirely too close to breaching the treaty and setting off a war. Neither party wanted the common populace finding out how close to upheaval they had come.

Reading the thoughts on Tate’s face, Tala gave her a smile that was slightly patronizing. “Your dragon friend isn’t the only one with contacts. It pays when you’re in my position to have eyes and ears everywhere.”

She knew about Ryu. Even worse.

“Not sure what you’re talking about.”

Tala gave her a chiding look, one that said she wasn’t pulling the wool over anyone’s eyes. “I believe he was part of the Duke of Spiritly’s entourage last night.”

“Was he?” Tate’s voice was noncommittal.

Night, alerted to the tension in the air, slunk closer. His eyes focused on the Silva woman.

“I mean you no harm,” Tala said, her eyes flicking to Night in amusement. “I’m making you aware of how pointless it would be to try to keep such things from me.”

Tate wasn’t sure if that was meant as a threat or not.

They came to the edge of the mini forest. A huge tree, its branches twisting and turning as they opened in a wide embrace to the sun, was at the middle of the huge clearing, a carpet of grass covering its roots.

“What is it that you think you know?” Might as well figure out how many of their secrets were known by the Silva.

Tala gestured to a small seating area at the base of the tree.

“Shall we sit? I’ve had tea from our homeland brewed, and my cook has baked some lovely treats for us.”

Tate didn’t see why they couldn’t conduct this conversation while enjoying a nice snack. She’d eaten a couple hours ago, and it wasn’t quite time for lunch but that had never stopped her before.

Night, knowing her answer before she said it, stalked toward the little blanket with its mini table.

Tala was graceful as she knelt at the little table and started pouring the two of them tea. For Night, she pulled out a bowl and added a creamy liquid, setting it down where he could easily drink. Tate was considerably less graceful as she lowered herself down, opting not to try the painful looking kneeling position Tala was in.

Gabriella glided through the forest, stopping under the branches of the great tree and leaning against its trunk. Tate flicked her a glance. Gabriella gave her a small smirk before Tate turned her attention to Tala.

“I know that the Kairi almost broke the treaty a few months ago,” Tala said with a small tilt to her lips. “And that you interfered. Doing so forced you to assume the form your bond gives you.”

Her eyes went to the sleeve that hid the dragon. Tate had opted to cover it both today and last night, hoping to keep its presence a secret a little longer from those who didn’t already know.

Tala gave Tate a small smile. “I know that you claim to have no memory of your past and that Lord Ryuji has been protecting you from the less scrupulous members of the Emperor’s court.”

Tate’s face was guarded at this revelation. She didn’t know what Tala was talking about, but didn’t want the woman to know. Tate didn’t trust her, which made her guard anything the woman might gain information from with all the passion of a newly converted zealot. Tate would have to ask Ryu any questions later.

“I imagine you have a purpose in telling me all this,” Tate said.

Tala’s smile was soft. “You do not like me knowing this.”

“What can I say? I’m shy like that.”

It wasn’t so much that Tala knew it. It was all the other people in Tala’s circle that would know, including her guards and whoever had discovered the information and the Saviors knew how many others.

Right now, it didn’t seem like Tate had any secrets left.

“Again, I mean you no harm.”

That was not comforting. Usually you only told people that when you actually did mean harm.

“Again, why tell me all this?”

“I find your existence curious. There has never been a female to survive the bonding process with a dragon.”

“I’m aware.”

The women usually died when the first transformation took place. Unable to change back, they got stuck in between and perished, or went mad and had to be put down. Tate was the first to cross that barrier. It’s one of the reasons her leash was so short. The people in charge didn’t quite trust that the problems the former female Dragon-Ridden had faced wouldn’t rear their ugly head necessitating that she be put down by Ryu or someone like him. It was grating to have to abide by the rules, but Tate could see their reasoning.

“Your presence means a power shift. I would be foolish not to find out everything I could about you.”

“I’ll give you that. Still doesn’t explain why you chose to reveal how much you know. I would think that would be the kind of thing you’d like to keep to yourself in case you ever needed it.”

Concealing how much she knew would give her an advantage if Ryu should ever try to embed himself in her household. She’d be able to control the information he had access to while manipulating him into releasing misinformation.

That’s how Tate would have handled that knowledge anyway.

Tala’s laugh was warm with just the faintest hint of danger, like fur sliding against rock right before a predator pounced.

“My people are very direct,” she said. “We prefer to challenge our enemies out in the open. I’m in no danger from your friend. He’s well aware that we know who he is and that we won’t tolerate him mucking about in our business.”

Tate examined her with a cool gaze. Message received. A warning and a threat, skillfully delivered.

The Silva were watching her and were perfectly willing to treat her cordially, but if she overstepped, they’d act accordingly.

To give herself time, Tate took a sip of the tea, keeping her grimace hidden. It tasted like tea but there was a metallic aftertaste that turned the tea bitter and hard to swallow. She didn’t want to give offense after Tala’s statement. She had a feeling these people could get wound up at the strangest things.

“That is good to know,” Tate said in a pleasant tone of voice.

She set the tea down.

Night straightened from lapping at the milk Tala had poured from him, sensing the shift in mood. His amber eyes studied the other woman. His ears pricked. Tate had brought him in part for his superior senses. He might be able to pick up on nonverbal cues that Tate missed.

Her eyes went to Gabriella. “You’ve referred to your guard on several occasions as Ayer. What does that mean?”

Tala took a sip of tea, her gaze going to Gabriella before she glanced back at Tate. “It is hard to translate into your language. The best way to describe it is as a person who has close ties to the doyenne.”

“Like a second in command?” Tate asked.

Tala looked thoughtful. “That is an imprecise definition, but it works in this instance.”

Tate nodded. She had questions but wasn’t sure quite how to ask them without seeming rude. Being diplomatic had never been her strong suit.

“The murders last night added a certain level of intrigue to these talks,” Tala said, peering at Tate from over her tea cup.

“A little too much.”

“I do not envy you or the mediator. Both the Academics and the Kairi are going to try to use this as leverage to influence events.”

“Were you acquainted with the Kairi, Ithor, or the human, Ronald?” Tate asked, trying to feign harmless curiosity.

Tala’s head tilted. “I believe Ithor is the name of the man who brought the stiletto in last night.”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid that was the first time I’d met the man. I didn’t have much to do with him after that incident.”

Tala never left the main group during dinner or afterward. She couldn’t have killed the two men herself, but it was entirely possible that the woman had ordered one of her people to do it.

“You weren’t happy when you saw the stiletto,” Tate said abruptly.

The other woman blinked. “No. I wasn’t.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s an assassin’s weapon, meant to be used when you’ve snuck up on your prey. It is an insult to bring such a weapon to a mediation.”

“It made you angry.”

Breath exploded from Tala, a half laugh, half snort. “Hardly. It is insulting, but I’m used to that from the Kairi. They are known for being dishonorable even when dealing with their own kind. They cloak their actions in diplomacy, but really it’s just backstabbing your way to the top.”

“Interesting that you say that. I believe I heard somewhere that the Silva rules of succession involve armed combat. I imagine people occasionally die in that combat, yet you judge the Kairi for acting in a similar manner.”

Tala raised one eyebrow. “Yes, we believe that only the strong should rule, but we don’t skulk around in the dark, scheming and maneuvering. We challenge for that right and accept the outcome.”

Two sides. Same coin. The result was the same. People dead.

“And the human?” Tate asked. “I thought I saw you talking with him during dinner.”

“He was a pompous ass convinced that my people tainted his merely by association. It was difficult to carry on a civil conversation.” Tala looked at Tate with an assessing gaze. “You ask a lot of questions. It would be wise not to stick your nose in manners such as these. They have a way of destroying anyone close to them.”

“Is that a threat?” Tate asked.

Tala’s face was coldly amused. “Not at all. Just a friendly piece of advice. You are new to this level of society. It would behoove you to move with caution.”

Tate felt a little insulted. She didn’t like the implication that she was naïve or needed guidance as a youth would. It made her next choice of words unwise. “I’m surprised you’re not more concerned about these murders. There is no reason to think that the Silva are safe from whoever did this. If someone is targeting these talks, it could mean your people are a target as well.”

“I would like to see them try.” Tala’s face took on an alien quality, as if the skin was stretched tight and something was trying to push through. Her voice dropped into a lower decibel that was felt as well as heard. “They won’t find any of my people such easy prey.”

Night’s ears and fur went flat. His muscles moved under his fur as if he was preparing to pounce.

Tate touched his shoulder in warning. They couldn’t be the ones to attack first. Even if Tala was a little scary right now and put Tate in mind of some of the fiercer predators of the Northern Reaches.

“I meant no insult,” Tate said. Even though she kind of had. “I was simply making an observation.”

Tala’s fierce gaze held Tate’s a moment longer. Tate started to look away and suddenly Ilith was there, forcing her to hold Tala’s gaze.

She is not dominant to us, Ilith thought at her.

There is no reason to antagonize her, Tate thought back.

You will be viewed as weak if she wins a dominance game.

Aggression filled the air as Tate remained caught in Tala’s gaze. It was an almost physical presence, threatening to press the air out of Tate’s lungs. Her instincts clamored at her to look away, to break the stare. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.

Tala blinked and looked away. She took a sip of her tea and looked back up. This time without that same intense focus.

Tate sensed the change. Looked like she had survived.

Ilith rumbled in her head before her presence receded. Tate was grateful for her departure. She had a feeling the dragon might have forced Tate into an uncomfortable situation had she remained. One that would have involved blood and claws.

Tala fiddled with her tea cup. “I apologize. It has been a stressful few days and my emotions seem to be running high.”

She stood and waved Tate back down when she would have joined her. “Please stay and enjoy the meal and our sanctuary. Gabriella can act as your guide and answer any questions you might have about this place.”

Night made a small mrph sound that Tate knew was the equivalent to a laugh. She shot him a look that said ‘hush, you.’

Tala’s eyes went to him. “I told your friend, but now I’ll tell you. The lands of my people are wild and beautiful. You would be welcome there should you find yourself in need of a home. In the meantime, you are welcome to use this place as a sanctuary anytime you need a reprieve from the city.”

Whatever Night’s response, it was made in silence. Tate knew from the softening on Tala’s face that he was speaking to her with his telepathy. She struggled to keep a feeling of hurt from taking root that he chose to exclude her. She didn’t like the idea of him leaving her, even if the wide-open spaces of the Silva lands might be more suited to him. That thought made her feel selfish and small.

Tala bid them goodbye and padded away, her feet silent in the grass. The trees swallowed her the moment she got near, shielding her from view.

Gabriella stalked forward, settling with a boneless grace in the spot Tala had vacated.

“Please forgive our doyenne. She is young for her position but does not mean you any harm.”

Tate lifted an eyebrow at her. “If you’re her guard, shouldn’t you be guarding her instead of here apologizing for her?”

Gabriella gave her a crooked grin. “As her Ayer, my duties are rather fluid. In our home, surrounded by our own people, she has little need for a dozen guards to shadow her every move. I find you interesting. If I stick around you, I’ll experience more interesting things. Might even give me a chance to make a name for myself.”

Tate’s question was interrupted by a male voice. “You’ve already made a name for yourself.”

“Your name can never be too big,” Gabriella told Lennart as he joined them at the table.

Tate shot Night a glare. He was supposed to warn her when people got too close. Let her know they were coming. He opened one eye to look at her before closing it again. The message was clear. She was on her own.

“More like you’re bored and you’re counting on the witness to keep you sufficiently entertained.”

Gabriella’s grin did nothing to negate his comment.

“Why?” Tate asked. “What makes you think that I’m going to be even the remotest bit entertaining?”

Gabriella held up one finger. “You’re involved in an event that intersects with three of the most powerful people in the empire. None of whom like each other.”

There was that.

She held up another finger. “You’re the first female dragon in known history. Your existence is bound to shake things up. Create enemies. Anyone standing next to you had better be prepared for a wild time.”

Tate would have liked to argue with her on that but had a feeling she made a good point.

Her eyes drifted to Night and she felt a tug of guilt. Perhaps she should have made more of an effort keeping her friends out of this.

Night’s tail whacked her on the back. He’d been careful to keep the barbs from touching her, but it still stung. He opened his eyes and stared meaningfully at her. There was no way she was convincing him to leave. Once he saw she understood his message, he put his head back on his paws.

“And lastly but most importantly, you held our doyenne’s gaze without attacking or being reduced to a quivering mess.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tate asked.

Gabriella gave Tate a considering look.

“Three seconds.”

Confusion showed on Tate’s face. She had no idea what that meant.

“Three seconds,” Gabriella said again. “That’s my record in holding her gaze when she’s pulling rank. I am considered one of our best hunters and am strong enough to hold my own clan. One day I will take my father’s place as an advisor to the Harridan, our leader.”

Tate didn’t know what to do with this information.

“I tell you this so that you understand that I am not weak.”

“I doubt I would have thought that even if you hadn’t just given me a list of all your achievements,” Tate said.

“I am not weak, but even I can only hold her gaze for three seconds. Lennart can hold it for seven.”

Tate began to see what she was getting at. She hadn’t been the first to drop her eyes. Ilith wouldn’t let her.

“Now you understand.”

And Tate did. Sort of. Even if she’d like to disagree with her right about now.

“Explain why this is so significant.” Tate wanted to be very sure of what had just happened.

It was Lennart who answered. “It is difficult to put into words for someone who is not part of our society.” Not the answer Tate was looking for. He looked thoughtful as he considered how to explain. “In the wild many animals use eye contact to indicate aggression and dominance. A subordinate or weaker animal might drop their eyes or present their stomach to signify that they weren’t a threat. That they acknowledge the other’s strength.”

Tate had seen similar behavior. Especially in social groups.

“For the Silva, it goes one step further from social cue to near compulsion. It preys on a person’s instincts. It can be very hard for the uninitiated to resist such an instinctual response. Tala’s dominance is stronger than most. It’s what makes her such an effective leader. Few have even challenged her in recent years. It is beyond surprising that you were able to resist so easily.”

It hadn’t been easy. Tate’s first response would have been to drop her eyes if Ilith hadn’t intervened.

“It is odd that she let it go that far,” he said in a thoughtful tone of voice. “She is usually more careful in the city.”

“Why?”

“No one likes to be cowed,” he said in a gentle voice. “Especially when they do not see it coming. We are already feared by the other races. Such actions can incite further panic and hatred.”

Tate considered him. She could see how that would be the case.

Ilith’s amusement tickled at Tate’s mind. The dragon found it humorous that the two of them had beaten the other woman at her own game. Tate, on the other hand, just hoped they hadn’t created an enemy.

She turned to Lennart. “Thank you for explaining.”

Every piece of information made her path through this world a little easier to navigate. Knowing that dominance games were a potential every time you met a Silva’s eyes would make antagonizing them a choice rather than an accident.

He gave her a partial bow.

“Would you like to eat first or go on a tour of our gardens?” Gabriella asked, propping her head on her hands.

Tate’s stomach rumbled.

Gabriella laughed. “I guess that answers that. I’ll have additional refreshments brought in.”

Chapter Ten

A woman glided through the trees carrying a tray. Gabriella perked up.

“Bridgette, is that for us?”

Bridgette gave a shy nod, her eyes darting to Tate and then away. Her face was round and her eyes downcast.

“The doyenne asked for something to be set aside since you are our guests.”

How nice. Tate made a face. Perhaps she had misjudged Tala.

“Thank the Saviors. I’ve been hungry all morning,” Gabriella said, reaching for a cookie.

Bridgette tapped her hand. “These aren’t just for you. The witness deserves first pick as our guest.”

Tate was more than willing to accept that. Her stomach rumbled. The snacks they’d started with had disappeared quickly. It seemed the Silva were a perpetually hungry people.

Bridgette set the tray down and offered Tate several cookies. They smelled delicious. Tate’s mouth was already watering. She plucked one off the plate, happy to munch on it.

Bridgette busied herself pouring a cup of tea before setting it in front of Tate. Seeing it, Tate fought against a frown. She wasn’t looking forward to another round. The last one had tasted awful. Bridgette’s eyes were big and soulful as she watched Tate, reminding her of a puppy that expected a pat on the head for a job well done. The other woman seemed a little too eager to please. Not like the other Silva she’d met. Most of whom had a wild, untamed air about them.

“Is the tea not to your liking?” Bridgette asked, looking from the tea cup to Tate and back again.

She looked so hopeful and earnest that Tate couldn’t insult her by telling her that the tea tasted like dirt to her.

Tate picked up the tea and took a small sip. Yup, it still tasted bad. She gave Bridgette a smile that was barely this side of a grimace.

Bridgette relaxed, giving Tate a brilliant smile before standing and picking up her tray.

Tate took another small sip before setting it down.

“Not a fan of the tea?” Gabriella asked once Bridgette was out of hearing range.

“No, no,” Tate said. “I’m just not terribly thirsty right this second.” That was a bald-faced lie. The talking and the cookie, as good as it tasted, had left her feeling parched.

“Relax, I’m not going to make you chug the stuff. Most people don’t care for the tea. It’s an acquired taste.” Gabriella lounged back on one hand. “It was nice of you to humor Bridgette, though.”

Tate felt relieved that she wouldn’t be forced to drink any more of the stuff. She nudged the cup a little further away from her. If anything, the tea had gotten worse the second time around; that metallic undertone being joined with an acrid taste.

“She seems different than I expected,” Tate said, blinking. The world was a little blurry around the edges.

“You could say that. She’s what we call obeziku.”

“What’s that mean?” Tate was beginning to sweat. It felt like the temperature had shot up by ten degrees in the last few minutes.

“The definition in the human tongue would be one who is perpetually young. It’s very rare for our people. It’s usually someone who lacks even a rudimentary level of aggression. Their thinking can be very childlike.”

“I find it odd that the Silva would give such a high-level position in their doyenne’s home to someone who seems so fragile and at odds with the strength they respect.” Tate blinked again, her vision shifting from blurry to darkness and back again.

Something was wrong.

“Yes, in a darker part of our history those who were obeziku were taken into the forest to be abandoned. If they survived and made their way back to a village, they would be forced back out to make their own way.

“Sounds kind of brutal.” Tate needed to get out of here. Maybe find a doctor.

“It was considered more honorable than forcing the parents to murder their own child.” Gabriella sat up, studying Tate with an intense gaze. “Are you alright? You look odd.”

“Actually, I think I’ve had enough of these plants. I’m going to make my way home.”

“I haven’t given you a tour yet.”

“I’ll come back. I just remembered a place I need to be.” Tate moved slowly, her head spinning. It felt like it was connected to her body by only the thinnest of strings.

She put her hands on the table to lever herself to her feet and stalled halfway up. Her arms collapsed, spilling her to the ground. Pain darted through her body, settling like a burr under skin that suddenly felt too tight. As if it was three sizes too small.

“Tate!” Gabriella leapt over the table, landing with a thud next to her.

Tate moaned. Gabriella’s landing sent a cascade of discordant noise through her ears.

Night yowled, a plaintive sound of distress.

“What’s wrong with her?” Tate heard Lennart ask.

Hands felt her face.

“She’s burning up.”

No shit. That must be why she was sweating enough to fill a river.

There was the sound of dishes being moved. Tate could only see darkness. Black upon black in a never-ending blanket.

“No,” she moaned, shuddering. Not this. Not again. She wasn’t going back to the nothingness where her only company was the chill of the abyss.

Hands grasped her face. “What are you seeing?”

“Dark. Cold. I can’t go back there.”

“Hold on, I’m going to get help.”

“Can’t go back. Can’t go back.” Tate’s hands clutched at air.

Gabriella was gone, her voice raised as she shouted. Lennart’s voice joined hers.

Tate rolled over onto her stomach, crawling, grasping for anything. Needing to feel. Needing to reassure herself she wasn’t buried underground in a glass chamber designed to force her to sleep and dream of the hell of an eternity spent alone.

You’re not alone. Ilith shoved forward, her presence a burning hot coal in Tate’s consciousness. You were never alone.

“Ilith,” Tate said, relief desperate in her voice. “What’s happening to me?”

Poison.

“Is that all? I thought it might be something dire. Like death.”

Ilith ignored Tate’s poor attempt at humor. It’s triggering the change.

“The change?” Panic was back in Tate’s voice. “You mean that thing that might kill us.”

Yes. Ilith’s mental tone was grim.

Shit.

There was a yowl next to Tate’s ear and then a raspy tongue swept across her face. A feeling of anxiousness reached her. Tate reached up, her hands hovering until Night thrust his head into her reach. Her fingers convulsed on his fur as a cramp bowed her back. Warmth spilled down her skin.

I smell blood, Night’s voice carried a hint of anxiety. He was scared but trying to hide it. Where are you injured?

Injured. She wasn’t. Just poisoned, evidently.

We’re changing, Ilith said. Keep them back.

Tate’s surprise shadowed Night’s. How was Ilith able to speak with him? She’d never spoken to anyone before Tate. She filed that under things to ask later.

Night’s roar hurt Tate’s ears.

Her hands were left gripping nothing. She fought to draw breath in, her chest tight—as if someone had put a weight on it and was pushing down.

“We can’t change, Ilith.” Tate screamed as her back rippled, the skin splitting. She could feel sharp scales under her skin, pushing, fighting to rise to the surface. Wings ached to unfurl. Her mouth suddenly felt too small for the number of teeth crowding it.

No choice. Die otherwise.

We promised, Ryu.

That promise was taken under duress and doesn’t apply if our lives are in danger.

Tate suspected Ilith was being deliberately obtuse. That agreement had no such restrictions on it and Ilith knew it.

We change.

“No.”

No choice. Ilith surged forward, taking hold of Tate and shoving her down as she leapt into ascendency.

Ilith did something that Tate couldn’t follow. It was like uncorking a bottle that had been pressurized. Like unleashing a storm that suddenly surged with explosive force, reaching, and reaching for its resolution.

Tate’s skin split, turning back to reveal scales. Her body gained mass. Her bones popped and cracked as they changed.

It hurt, but in a good way, like after a hard run where the burn in the muscles let you know they’ve been used.

The change pushed her along, closer and closer to freedom. Then suddenly it stopped and that good pain changed to the kind that left Tate feeling like she was going to die.

Something’s wrong. Ilith’s panic beat at Tate.

A long, thin sound somewhere between a roar and a scream escaped.

Finish this, Ilith.

Can’t. Stuck. The dragon sounded impossibly young and afraid at that moment.

What do you mean we’re stuck?

I can’t complete the change. Something is preventing me from assuming our form.

Go back. Back to human.

Tate could feel Ilith straining, pushing, but nothing was happening.

It’s not working. Tate got the sense of a dragon with wild eyes and scales a blue so deep they were almost black.

Calm down. Tate thought, sensing her dragon’s fear. Think, concentrate. You can do this.

No, I can’t. Something is keeping us stuck between two forms.

You have no choice. We’ll die otherwise. Just take a breath and find your way through.

Cool hands pressed against Tate’s back. Her shirt had partially shredded in the half shift.

“She’s caught between two forms,” Tala’s voice said above her head as if from a great distance. “She needs to choose one or the other to survive.”

Why hadn’t Tate thought of that? Oh right, that’s because she had.

Night’s growling yowl seemed to echo Tate’s sentiments.

“We do not have the skills to help her,” Tala said. “Our kind is not meant to sustain a full shift. We do not have the knowledge that she needs.”

Another sound of dissatisfaction.

“All we can do is send for someone who does, and pray they arrive in time.” Those cool hands stroked Tate’s face. “Hold on, little one. We’ve sent for help.”

Tate didn’t think whoever they’d sent for would get here in time. The poison’s affects had been negated with the beginning of the change, but her body could not sustain this stress for long.

Tate drifted on a haze of pain, the sound of voices washing over her but making little sense.

“I think it was in the tea.” Gabriella said.

“My lady, it could be dangerous,” Lennart said.

“If we leave her like this, we’ll be the ones blamed.” A voice Tate didn’t recognize.

Tate writhed as pain took her in its jaws and locked down again and again as she floated in a cloud of razor sharp blades—each time splintering her focus further. She felt Ilith in a ball next to her, the dragon twisting and turning as she fought against the thorns that held them in their spell.

They weakened further with each breath.

The scent of a thunderstorm on a summer day reached her. Gentle hands with rough skin touched her face.

“How long has she been like this?”

“For the last hour. We called you as soon as we realized what was happening.”

An hour. Tate hadn’t realized it’d been so long. She was surprised she was still alive. The deepest part of her hurt, the kind of pain that would be with her for years to come.

“She shouldn’t be caught between forms like this. It’s not how the change works.” There was frustration and just the slightest edge of fear in that voice.

“My Ayer said she didn’t look well before she collapsed.”

Tate struggled to form words with unfamiliar mouth. Her jaw didn’t work the way it should and her tongue flopped around creating a hissing noise.

“SSS.”

She shifted, forcing the pain out of her thoughts and tried again.

“Posssss.”

“I think she’s trying to say something,” Gabriella said.

“Possosss.”

It was useless. She couldn’t get her mouth to form the words. Wet rolled down her cheeks.

Hands cradled her face.

“Your jaw and mouth are too far towards dragon to create human words.” Tate knew that voice. Knew that smell. Ryu.

She made a high whining sound. She didn’t think even his stubbornness could save her.

“I know it hurts. You need to push past the pain.”

She couldn’t. She’d tried. Ilith had tried. Nothing they did worked. Whatever that poison had been, it disrupted her ability to make the transition. She didn’t want it to end like this but motivation and sheer bone headedness only took you so far.

“Night, can you get through to her?”

The bed she was on shifted and fur brushed against Tate. She felt an insistent mental nudge, but couldn’t bring her thoughts together enough to connect.

Tate lost the thread of the conversation, sinking back into the abyss.

She came back to consciousness with a lurch.

“Focus, Tate. You’re too close to dragon. You have to continue through the change. Concentrate on one body part at a time. Eyes first.” Ryu’s voice was urgent. “Imagine that there’s a keyhole. You need to push your entire being through that keyhole. Compress yourself down and then shove as hard as you can.”

Tate was tired. So tired. It would be so easy to give up. Instead, she reached for Ilith, dragging the dragon’s consciousness to her, inch by painful inch.

“Good, good. Now your hands.”

Tate could see now. Ryu looked disheveled but his focus was entirely on her. As if he was willing her to succeed with his entire being.

Step by step, body part by body part, Ryu talked her through the rest of the change until the momentum carried her all the way through to dragon.

Transition complete, she collapsed onto her side. For the first time, Tate was actually aware of her dragon parts, all of which ached like she’d spent the last month with the worst case of flu known to man.

Though she was aware and conscious, Ilith was the one in charge. Tate was merely along for the ride.

Ilith panted. She still hurt, but not in the same way as when she was caught in between.

The little furry creature batted at her nose, making a questioning mrrow. Ilith opened one eye, glaring at the creature with its odd markings.

Safe?

A huff of air ruffled Night’s fur. He stepped forward, rubbing his cheek against as much of Ilith as he could.

Enough, she snapped. She wasn’t his territory and didn’t want him rubbing his scent all over her.

Safe?

This time her breath whistled as she exhaled, the sound a grumble.

Yes. Safe.

Both?

She bared the fangs on one side of her mouth. Her tail lifted and then dropped again.

The question came again. Both?

Tate pressed forward, her presence having as much substance as a butterfly. If Ilith had wanted she could have swatted it down with all the effort it would have taken to swat the butterfly.

Why are his thoughts so much simpler now? Tate thought. It was like when she had first encountered Night in the tunnels. He’d had trouble expressing complex thoughts then too. As he’d grown more used to conversing mentally, his voice had gotten more mature as well. His questions now reminded her of then.

Ilith’s thoughts were a tangle, the dragon uninterested in Tate’s question. She was parsing the nearby scents, a snuffling sound emanating from her as she moved her head in a snakelike manner.

She rolled to her belly.

Ilith?

Ilith ignored Tate, focused on that smell. The smell of dirt after a heavy rainfall. She knew that smell. From where?

She snuffled again.

There. It was coming from outside the room.

Where did she know if from? The long sleep had shuffled things around, graying out most. This smell was more recent. Something she had encountered since arriving in the city.

She lumbered to her feet, wobbling for a moment before finding her balance. The small creatures around her squawked and protested.

She took an unsteady step forward. That smell tugged at her. It meant something. Her curiosity consumed her. She needed to track it down.

One of the creatures darted in front of her, blocking her exit. A growl escaped her and was answered by another, deeper one of warning. Her wings rustled with unease.

She sniffed again, her breath washing over the creature. Dragon, like her.

Ah, this was the dragon man her other self danced around from time to time—the one with the pretty eyes and roguish smile.

Ilith approved. He smelled like a windstorm and forest. Windstorms were always the best. They turned flying into an exciting gamble.

She gave a trill in the back of her throat. Asking him to change. To join her in the skies.

He spoke, using the human tongue. Ilith shook her head and huffed at him. She didn’t want to think in human patterns right now. She was free and there was that smell to hunt.

His voice rose in a sharp tone.

Ilith blew at him and then nudged him out of the way. He slapped at her snout. She jerked back—that part of her face was sensitive.

He did it again. She shook her head and bared her teeth, making a grumbling sound in the back of her throat. He bopped her on the nose again and then pointed to the bed.

She reared onto her hind legs, cradling her nose protectively, her wings fanning out to help keep her balance. There were several shouts of dismay as the other creatures dove out of the way to avoid being knocked over.

The other dragon roared, the sound a trumpet of challenge.

I think you should listen to him, Tate thought at Ilith.

Ilith swatted the thought away. She was dragon and this dragon in human form was not her master.

She roared back, her wings mantling. She didn’t drop to four legs, afraid the dragon would try to go for her nose again. She started waddling to the door on her hind legs. It wasn’t easy. A dragon’s body was not built to walk upright. Her head brushed the ceiling.

Oh boy, Tate thought.

The dragon man watched her, his dark eyes shadowed.

Ilith felt a smug sense of satisfaction. She was mighty and didn’t have to listen to lesser beings.

How are you going to fit through the door, oh mighty dragon? Tate asked, her mental voice dry.

Ilith eyed the door in question. She’d fit. Right? No. Yes, she’d fit. If not, she’d just create a new one.

Her head fit through easily enough. It was her shoulders that got stuck. There was a chorus of raised voices behind her. They sounded like a flock of angry seagulls. About as helpful as them too.

Ilith shoved and pushed, the frame cracking around her. Her feet scrabbled against the wood floor, leaving deep grooves in the wood. With a final shove, the frame gave around her, tearing a dragon sized hole in the walls around it.

She grumbled as she plodded her way down the hall, frowning down at the white dust on her scales. She shook one foot then the other, not liking the way the dust looked against the splendor that was her scales.

She followed her nose, tracking that scent. Several people that smelled closer to predators reacted with shock when they saw the small dragon plodding her way through the halls, knocking things over. Causing paintings to fall. They usually fled in the opposite direction as if they thought Ilith might attack.

Foolish predator humans, Ilith thought. As if she would try to eat them. Humans didn’t taste nearly as good as a cow. Or a pig. Horses were best, though.

The smell she was following proved elusive, fading in and out. It was an old smell, the air currents dispersing it in many places.

Another smell inserted itself. Ilith’s mouth watered and her stomach grumbled. Still, that other scent tugged at her. There was a reason she needed to follow it.

She thought a minute, laying down where she stood and resting her head on her paws as she’d seen Night do a million times through Tate’s eyes. Now she finally had the chance to do the same. There was a reason he liked this pose. It was very comfortable.

Ilith got lost in the sensation of sitting and resting, utterly comfortable in this manner. The dragon man and Night and the others still shadowed her from several halls away, but they were far enough that she didn’t feel an urgent need to protect herself.

She pondered which scent she should follow. The mysterious one that her instincts said might be important, or the one that would guarantee food.

She lumbered to her feet. There was no reason not to check for the mysterious smell in the same direction as food.

Ilith trudged through several more rooms, scaring more of the predator humans. She paused at one that smelled particularly good, curious as to how the person smelled like a person but also like a bear. An angry, scared one.

She bent her head to get a better smell, and leapt back, startled at the long angry hiss that came from the other end of the room. She decided that it’d be best to leave the bear person alone for now.

She continued on her journey.

The smell of warm, bloody meat drew her until she broke through another door, grumbling at the small passageway. Didn’t these predator people know that small doors wouldn’t be able to handle her majestic self?

There was a scream that startled her. She roared back. A mass flurry of movement as people fled, leaving the juicy, tasty smelling meat behind.

Ilith pounced, her leap carrying her half way across the room to land partially on the blood covered chopping block. She gulped down the warm flesh and then licked the wood, trying to suck out the rest of the taste.

She paused in the act of licking the block to glare at the dragon man. She clutched the block to her chest. Hers. No one else’s. He sighed and then pointed to her left.

Ilith didn’t trust that he wasn’t trying to distract her so he could steal her prey. She looked carefully in the direction he indicated, keeping him in eyesight at all times.

Meat. Mounds of it.

She abandoned the block, her jump knocking it over. Her wings snapped out, carrying her through the air until she landed on a table. It collapsed under her weight. She barely noticed, too busy inhaling the food.

Her belly was a gnawing hole demanding to be filled.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the warm flesh coursed down her throat. Once again, she licked at the wood trying to get all the stray bits off.

The dragon man stepped near and she let out a warning growl. She might be considering him as a mate, but that didn’t mean he could steal her feast. The animal people obviously understood how amazing she was and had slaughtered this cow as tribute to her. As such, she claimed rights and no potential mate was going to steal it from her.

His chuckle was warm against her scales as he skirted around her and walked to a door. He opened it and walked inside a small room. Ilith cocked her head, curious.

She slunk nearer, peering inside to see him take a knife and cut something off a huge haunch. He threw the chunk of meat outside.

Ilith ignored it, her entire attention on the leg. The dragon man slipped out while she was distracted.

How did she not smell this before?

Her eyes swirled, the color changing to a light gold. Her thoughts overjoyed at the sudden tribute. She leapt at the haunch. It was hers. Gloriously hers.

She barely noticed the door shutting behind her as she raced into the cold room.

It was only later, with the meat consumed and her belly bulging that she realized she couldn’t get out. She couldn’t even turn to face the door, wedged in as she was.

She vaguely considered struggling but decided that would be too much work.

With a sense of smugness, she lay down and slept, allowing Tate to rise to ascendency.

*

Tate shivered. Cold for the first time in a long time. She always slept with a blanket even in summer, not able to stand the cold. She’d been freezing for so long locked away in the abyss that she resented any stray breeze, preferring to sweat.

She opened her eyes, blinking at the frost lining the ceiling above her. This was not her bed. She rose to one elbow. She was naked.

Why was she naked? And locked in what looked like a freezer?

She shivered and huddled in on herself. Standing was an exercise in self-discipline. Her body was convinced that only by curling into a fetal position could she withstand this cold.

The events came back to her. The poisoning, the change, Ilith. And all that meat.

She looked around her. It looked like an animal had gone insane in here, stray bits of metal and packaging lying everywhere as if a hurricane had been locked inside.

“Hey! Let me out!” Tate banged on the metal door. They’d locked her in here.

It took several more minutes of banging before the sound of the fridge being unbarred reached her. She waited as the door swung open.

She was not expecting the frowning man on the other side to bar her from hopping out of the fridge. He was short but all muscle and dressed in all black.

“Who are you?” she asked her tone short.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions.”

Tate blinked once, then twice. What the fuck?

“How’s about you let me out of this freezing cold room so I can put some clothes on first?” Her tone made it clear that it wasn’t really a request. She was about to pull the dragon back out so she could eat this guy if he tried to make her wait another minute in a room below freezing wearing only her bare skin. Ilith might have been fine with the temperature, but Tate, as a human, was not.

The man’s eyes ran down her, as if noticing her pebbled skin for the first time. He didn’t seem too impressed.

“You’ll live.”

He tried to swing the door shut on her. Tate lunged forward, shoving with all her strength. The door flung forward, knocking the other man down. It was a shock. She hadn’t realized she’d shoved that hard.

Taking advantage of his cursing, she hopped over him and into the kitchen. There. Problem solved. At least the first one anyway.

“Get back here.” He struggled to his feet.

Tate didn’t listen, darting away when he tried to grab her. She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew she wasn’t going back into that enclosed space.

He lunged for her and she swung, her fist catching him on the side of the head. He shook his head, stunned. She leapt back.

“Get back in the freezer, abomination,” he spat.

She snorted. Did he really think name calling was likely to persuade her to listen to him?

“I’m warning you. If you don’t get back into that freezer, you’ll regret it.”

“I have a feeling I’d regret it if I did get back in, numb nuts.”

He snarled, leaping forward. She had no time to dodge as he wrapped her in a bear hug. She stumbled back with him clinging to her, knocking over several pots and pans.

She tried to knee him, but missed the groin, snarling when one of his hands grabbed her breast. She head-butted him, creating space when his grip loosened slightly, and then wrenched up with both arms, dislodging his grip. She planted one foot and then kicked him in the stomach, sending him crashing into the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen.

Tate gaped at how far he flew. That was unexpected. She didn’t even know she was capable of launching a man through the air like that. Especially one that outweighed her by a good fifty pounds.

“Seigal, what’s going on here?” Another man, this one also dressed in all black, walked into the room. He froze in place at the sight of a naked woman. His attention swung to the man using the cabinets as a crutch.

“She escaped and attacked me.”

“Bullshit. You attacked me first,” Tate snapped. “You tried to keep me in a freezer, naked, where I could suffer serious harm and die. Then you groped me trying to get me back into the freezer. You got what you deserved.”

“Not like you care that you’re on display,” Seigal sneered. “Running all over the place without the least effort to cover up like a proper lady.”

Tate gave him a look colder than the freezer she’d just escaped from. “If this lady you speak of would have allowed you to imprison her in a place to freeze to death, I’ll take your words as a complement. I’d much rather have all my fingers and toes and be lacking in modesty.”

“Enough. The cold won’t hurt you; the parasite attached to you will keep you from suffering any true harm,” the second man said with a distasteful look at Ilith slumbering on Tate’s shoulder.

Tate opened her mouth to argue when a roar, loud enough to rattle the pots and shake the room, reached them. It was a sound full of incandescent rage, building in volume and intensity.

Ryu stood at the door, his eyes a blaze of darkness as he took in the room. Both of the men in black crouched, drawing swords and holding them in readiness against the dragon in man form.

“You dare?” Ryu’s voice was full of wrath, the sound twisting and making it clear that the wrong answer would see a very real dragon separating their heads from their bodies. “You are not so untouchable that you can draw steel against me.”

Tate felt a modicum of respect for the second man as he straightened and slid the sword into the scabbard at his waist. Ryu was scary intimidating when he wanted to be and this was about the most intimidating Tate had ever seen him.

“What are you doing?” Seigal asked the second man.

“Put it away.”

“But-”

“I will not ask again.” The second man’s voice was full of warning as he gave the other man a look that said, ‘don’t test me.’

Seigal put his sword away with jerky movements that made it clear that he was only doing so under duress.

“My lord, you agreed to let us handle the interrogation,” the second man said to Ryu. He was clearly the one in charge and seemed to have a much cooler head than his friend.

Interrogation. Tate didn’t like the sound of that. Who exactly were they supposed to be interrogating? Her? She remembered the last one Ryu had left her to. She could still feel phantom tentacles from that truth device under her skin sometimes.

“I agreed to let you question her,” Ryu clarified, lowering his chin and glaring at him. His face made it clear he wouldn’t accept much more from this man.

Tate had to wonder who the two guys in black were and why they were trying to interrogate her.

“Why isn’t she wearing any clothes?”

Good question. Tate folded her arms and looked back at the other men.

Now that Ryu was here she fought against a wave of self-consciousness. She was intensely aware anytime he looked at her, though she didn’t show it.

“We would have provided clothes if she had just exhibited a little patience.”

Tate scoffed. “You left me locked in a freezer. Did it not occur to you to give me a blanket or something? I woke up covered in frost. Why the hell would I have stayed there?” That last statement had been a bit of an overstatement, but Tate didn’t care.

The two men didn’t answer, their faces stubborn. They knew their answer wouldn’t win them any favors with Ryu. Tate was glad for their discomfort. It didn’t match the danger they’d put her in or the disrespect, but it was something.

“Answer her.”

“We thought, given her violence from earlier, that it would be best to ensure she was in her right mind before engaging her,” the second man tried to explain.

“What violence?” Tate asked. She didn’t remember Ilith hurting anyone, but some of her memories were a little fuzzy, especially once Ilith found food. Things had descended into a red haze after that, and Tate couldn’t say with certainty what Ilith had done. “Did I hurt anyone?”

She didn’t know what she would do if the answer was yes. She was many things, but she didn’t know if she could bear hearing that she’d seriously hurt or killed someone while Ilith had control.

“No,” Ryu said.

“Only by the grace of the Saviors,” Seigal said. His gaze refused to lift to Ryu’s glare.

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Ryu reiterated. “This is just a formality. We don’t know why you shifted or why you couldn’t complete the change. The Black Order was called as a precaution.” Ryu directed his next words at the two men. “Their presence here is a sign of respect. They have no real authority here.”

“Not for long,” the first man said. “It’s only a matter of time before the Lord Marshall appoints our order as the overseers of all Aurelia. Even of the Creator’s cast-offs.” He gave Tate and Ryu a derisive look, making it clear he meant them.

“Until such time, you will act only with the authority currently vested in your order,” Ryu said, ignoring the blatant disrespect.

He was much more controlled than Tate would have been. Her first reaction was to throw some of those words back in the man’s face, followed by a possible jab to the throat. But then, she was a violent person.

“I can tell you what happened,” Tate said, following Ryu’s lead. If he could keep his head, so could she. “I was poisoned. Ilith panicked and initiated the change. We got stuck between forms.”

Ryu’s gaze snapped to hers.

“Ilith? Who is Ilith?” the second man in black asked.

“That’s enough.” Ryu strode forward taking off his shirt and draping it over Tate’s head. “There will be no further questions until she has some clothes and a doctor can be summoned to look at her.”

“You can’t do that,” the man Tate had thrown across the room said.

“Watch me,” Ryu snapped. “You were supposed to retrieve her from the freezer and take her to a room over an hour ago. You’ve overstepped your bounds by keeping her in the freezer and then attacking her when she rightfully tried to protect herself. Unless you want to make things worse than they already are, I suggest you think of ways to keep me happy.”

The smarter of the two watched with an assessing gaze as Ryu shielded Tate with his body. He seemed to be drawing his own conclusions, though Tate had no idea what those were.

“We’ll pick this up later,” he said.

Ryu looked like he was about to argue, but settled down, thinking better of it. He turned to Tate, his face softening.

“I’ve already summoned a doctor. Let’s get you someplace warm.”

“I hope there’ll be food wherever this warm place is. I’m starving.”

“That’s hard to believe,” the first man muttered.

Tate shot him a glare. She’d be happy to toss him across the room again if it would shut him up.

“We can arrange that. Come.”

Tate followed Ryu out of the room, the other two men glaring at her with hostile gazes.

Chapter Eleven

Tate was more than happy to see several sets of clothes that she could layer on for more warmth laid out on the bed, courtesy of Tala and Gabrielle. The clothes were slightly bigger than what she normally wore, but she was pleased with the end result.

It might have all been a little much given it was the middle of summer, but it helped chase away some of the chill she hadn’t been able to shake since waking up on a cold floor. Some of that may have been the nasty memories the cold had brought back.

Ryu knocked once and then entered.

“Sure, come right in,” Tate said.

“Ilith.”

“What about her?”

“Who is Ilith?”

Tate looked at Ryu in the mirror, her forehead furrowed.

“Is this a joke?”

The look on Ryu’s face said the question couldn’t be further from it.

She turned to him, pulling the collar of her shirt to one side to show him the sleeping dragon draped on her shoulder.

“You’ve met Ilith before.”

His face looked like it could have been carved from granite. “You call the dragon Ilith.”

His words were a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, because that’s her name.”

“How do you know that?” His voice was tight.

Tate didn’t like all these questions. She sensed there was a deeper meaning to them.

“She told me.”

An explosive curse escaped Ryu. He turned away from her, one hand going to knead his neck.

“What is it? Why does that seem so shocking? I’ve told you her name before.” Tate didn’t understand why this information seemed to shock him, and she disliked not knowing.

“No, Tate, you haven’t.”

“Sure, I did.” She’d had to when the interrogator had questioned her with the truth sayer. Hadn’t she?

“Trust me, I would remember.”

“Explain why your knickers are in such a twist,” Tate snapped. She was sick of him acting like it was the end of the world without cluing her into as to why.

“Because, Tate, the Dragon-Ridden don’t speak to the dragons. The sane ones at least.” He sounded tired and on the verge of defeat.

Tate blinked. That couldn’t be. It made no sense.

“You share your bodies with them. Transform into them. How can you not talk to them?”

There were times Ilith wouldn’t shut up and Tate wished for some peace and quiet, but she would never want to silence the little dragon forever. She couldn’t think of anything less appealing then going through all of this by herself.

His sigh was heavy. “We do. Just not in full sentences like you seem to. It’s more like feelings and pictures. Over time, once you’ve gotten used to one another you can build a communication of sorts. It rarely progresses to full conversations as we would term them.”

“But some do.”

“Yes. After centuries of living with one another. Our brains are just not built to receive their thoughts like that. It usually drives the host insane if their mind hasn’t been strengthened over time by the symbiotic relationship to withstand the strain.”

Tate looked out the window, noting a pair of birds fighting in midflight.

“What does this mean?”

He hesitated. Tate wasn’t used to such indecisiveness in him. Not when he was the one who usually picked a direction and plowed through any obstacle standing in his way.

“It means one of two things. That you managed to fool the imperial inspector when he questioned you and you’re much older than any of us suspected.”

“Or?” Tate asked when he hesitated.

He held her eyes like he didn’t want to say this next piece. Tate knew what was coming but she wanted to hear it.

“Or this is the first sign of dragon madness. It will get progressively worse as you fall further and further into the dragon mind, unable to recognize your friends or the difference between right and wrong.”

He didn’t say what would happen if the second scenario came to pass. She could guess and the possibility wasn’t good for her continued health.

“I don’t feel crazy.”

No sign of wanting to attack anything moving.

“It wouldn’t necessarily be something you are aware of. I’m told it’s a gradual progression of losing yourself one important piece at a time.”

Tate nodded, the words feeling like a blow.

Ilith was quiet at the moment, sleeping deep in Tate’s consciousness. Tate really could have used her input.

“I don’t remember much from before Jost picked me up,” Tate said. “It’s possible that I’ve been a dragon longer than we thought.”

Ryu’s eyes were sorrowful. “You would have to have been a dragon for centuries to endure her voice while keeping your sanity. It is doubtful that you would have avoided detection for that long.”

He was just a barrelful of good cheer today.

“But not impossible.”

He gave a reluctant nod.

It wasn’t much but Tate would take it. She thought about telling him about the chamber. That she suspected that she had been one of the sleepers. That she may well be older than him. Something kept her from spilling those secrets.

First, she didn’t know if what she called ‘sleep’ would actually have protected her mind, enabling her and Ilith to share thoughts with little to no ill effects. The second was the general fear and distrust that Night garnered. He wasn’t always accepted, especially by humans. They saw him as one of the creators’ experiments and treated him as if he was a dangerous, deadly monster capable of snapping at any moment.

The way the man from the Black Order had referred to her as an abomination had stuck with her. She suspected he referenced her status as Dragon-Ridden. She didn’t want to throw more oddness into the mix without it being absolutely necessary. She had already seen the effect weirdness and fear had when combined. It had been what ultimately drove her off the Marauder and out of Jost’s crew.

“Do I seem insane to you?” His answer meant more to Tate than she wanted to admit. There was a tightness in her chest that she pretended wasn’t there. Half the time she didn’t even like Ryu. Why should she care if he thought she fell into the second category? The one that ultimately lead to death and destruction.

“No. I have never seen any sign of insanity.”

“Did Ilith hurt anybody while she was out and about?”

His face turned thoughtful. “No, she didn’t. She seemed driven and curious, but she didn’t seem interested in hunting Silva.”

“She was stuck on that scent,” Tate said.

“What scent?”

Tate thought back, struggling to interpret what she’d seen and felt. It was difficult. Everything seemed removed as if she was trying to peer through a murky pane of glass to what was on the other side. The details were fuzzy. She attributed it to trying to recover someone else’s memories.

It made her wonder whether Ilith faced this same challenge when Tate’s form was the dominant one. Tate couldn’t imagine spending the majority of her life like that. It was too much like being encased in cotton, all of your senses muffled. It’d be enough to drive a being insane.

“I think it was on the servant who brought the poisoned tea. The one they called Bridgette,” Tate said slowly. There was something else. Something that was important.

Her mouth dropped open when it dawned on her what it was.

Ryu’s eyes became alert. “What is it? Something just occurred to you.”

“I know that smell,” Tate said. “It was Brown Eyes.”

The words seemed to make little sense to Ryu.

“He was in the tunnel when the Red Lady tried to steal the fulcrum’s power.” And tried to yank Ilith out of Tate’s body. The process would have killed Tate. Something told her the Red Lady wouldn’t have been happy with the end result either. “He was the one who helped her format the spell.”

“I remember from your report.” Ryu’s focus turned inward.

There was a low growl at the door and then voices raised in anger.

“Tate, keep your ability to communicate with Ilith a secret for now. There are a few things I want to check. The members of the Black Order tend to be a bit irrational and unforgiving of anything different from human. It’s best if we just leave them out of this for now.”

Tate was all for that. Being called abomination and shoved back into a freezer was enough to put both of those men on her black list.

Before she could respond, the door swung open and the two men from the kitchen stalked inside.

“You will let us do our job, Lord Ryuji.”

Ryu lifted one eyebrow in that imperious expression that used to make Tate want to punch him in the face. When done to someone else, she had to fight to keep the grin off her face, knowing exactly how aggravating that eyebrow was.

“I wouldn’t dream of interfering, prefect Ward,” Ryu said.

Ward looked like he was struggling to swallow a mass of worms. He’d burst in here stewing for a fight and here Ryu was conceding the battle before it even begun. Talk about snatching the wind right out of his sails.

Seigal moved to the wall and leaned against it while Ward stepped more fully into the room, looking between Ryu and Tate as if he suspected something nefarious was going on but couldn’t put his finger on what.

“Who is Ilith?” he asked, pinning Tate with his gaze.

She took a deep breath. Straight to the point. She could almost like him if he wasn’t clearly working with the bigoted asshole over in the corner.

Tate pointed to the shoulder where the dragon was hidden under her clothes. “My dragon. Who else?”

For his part, Ryu’s expression didn’t alter even by a stray eyelash, despite the dismay he must be feeling.

Seigal started grinning. Tate could imagine he wanted to rub his hands together with glee.

“Your dragon speaks to you?” Ward’s tone was questioning as if he didn’t want her to invoke any loopholes down the road.

Tate snorted. “Of course not. That would just be crazy. I mostly talk to her. I call her Ilith because it seems rude to refer to her as the dragon all the time.”

Ward dropped his chin, his glare telling her she wasn’t fooling him for a minute.

Her lips quirked. He could argue with her all he liked, point to the name, but it would be his word against hers. The empire wanted her, for whatever reason that she’d yet to work out. Maybe she was a curiosity, something they wanted to study, or just that dragons were now so rare that they’d take any Dragon-Ridden they could get. But she doubted they’d end her without concrete proof of this supposed insanity.

“What did you mean by Ilith panicked and initiated the change?”

Tate had said that hadn’t she?

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “Exactly that. One second I could feel myself fading and the next I was trying to change. The dragon must have sensed we were in danger and took measures to protect us.”

Ryu had said that he was able to pick up feelings from his dragon. Her explanation wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

“There have been rare cases when the bond is strong, that the dragon is able to act and defend its partner in times of mortal danger,” Ryu inserted, his tone bland as if he was giving a lecture on the behavior of dragons.

Ward gave him a cool look. “But more often than not when a dragon takes control it means there is a serious imbalance in the bond leading to instability, madness and eventually death.”

Tate’s pulse jumped. Not for the first time, she wished she had more information on what it was to be Dragon-Ridden. She never would have mentioned Ilith had she known what all this meant.

Unfortunately, the empire and the Dragon-Ridden guarded such knowledge with all the zealousness of a mother defending her young. Because of Tate’s less than normal introduction into the ranks, they had been reluctant to give her more than the utmost essential information, dolling it out in grudging spoonfuls.

“What are you suggesting?” Tate asked, wanting to know exactly what she was up against.

Ward gave her a smile that sent chills down her back. There was nothing overtly threatening in it, yet it managed to scare her more than any direct threat would have. It said that she could struggle all she wanted but that he would come out victorious in the end. That he was right and no amount of proof to the contrary would convince him otherwise. This man was dangerous because of that utter belief that his way was the only way.

“You’ll be remanded into our custody until such time that we can determine the extent of the rot in your bond.”

“And if you determine it is a case where the bond is becoming unstable?”

This smile was pure, the kind a father gave a child who had been led astray. “You will be removed from this world for your own benefit and that of others. It is what is best.”

Tate could tell he really believed that. To him she wasn’t a real person. Just a thing that would be discarded at the first hint of a crack.

“That will not be necessary,” Ryu said, keeping Tate from saying what she really wanted to say. It was probably for the best. There’d be no coming back from things if she said what was brewing in her mind. “There has been ample supporting evidence that a dragon acting without its partner is not necessarily a sign of instability.”

“It’s best to be thorough with these kinds of things,” Ward said, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Lady Fisher is already in my custody. She has not exhibited any signs of the dragon madness. Should she seem at risk, we will take the greatest of precautions.”

“You are obviously biased,” Seigal said. “What’s she got between her legs that has you so fascinated?”

Tate lifted an eyebrow, insulted. Yes, because he tried to protect her, it obviously meant he was sleeping with her. It couldn’t mean anything else, like he was her friend, after a fashion, and didn’t want whatever they planned to happen to her, or that it was simply the right thing to do. Nope, none of that mattered. Had to be they were sleeping together due to the simple fact that she was female.

Her dislike of this Black Order grew with every word out of their mouths.

Menace rolled off Ryu. It was a simple shift, but it made Seigal straighten and Ward’s mouth flatten.

“You forget yourself,” Ryu hissed, the dragon behind his voice. “You have power because we’ve given it to you. Because we recognize that you fill a critical function in this city. Be careful that you do not stray so far over the edge that we deem it would be less trouble to fulfill the role ourselves.”

Seigal’s face paled. Even Ward looked like he wanted to take a step back from the dragon barely contained in Ryu’s human skin.

Tate couldn’t tell if the dragon was really at the fore or whether that was just Ryu pulling rank. It wouldn’t surprise her to find out it was a little of both.

“My lord,” Ward started.

“There will be no more threats. You will treat Lady Fisher with the same respect that is given to all of her station.” When no one answered he thundered, “Am I understood?”

Tate flinched, the level of rage and wrath in that terrible voice unexpected.

Both of the men rendered immediate bows.

“Of course, my lord,” Ward said, staring at the floor. His voice sounded strained.

Ryu let them remain in that position, his eyes had a hint of dragon remaining as he glared at the two.

“Ryu, enough posturing. I’m getting tired. Let’s just get this over with,” Tate said, drawing his attention even though he made her a little uneasy with that wildness still clinging to him.

She didn’t mind him putting the men from the Black Order in their place, but the poison and two changes had wrung all energy from her. She was fading fast and wanted this over with before she crashed. She had a feeling once she went down, she’d be down for a while.

His eyes swung to hers, the dragon peering out for a moment. He shifted over to her, his movements having an odd silkiness that was all predator. He touched her cheek gently, his eyes softening just a little bit before he turned back to the others.

“You heard her,” he snapped. “Finish your questions. Keep in mind, your presence here is a courtesy. No deaths occurred and the Silva will be reimbursed for all damage.”

He moved behind her, his displeasure at the other two men heating her back. It was nice to have Ryu irritated at someone else for a change.

Ward straightened, looking discomfited. He ran one hand through his hair, smoothing it down. His composure was quick to come back. Seigal on the other hand looked embarrassed and angry. His glare told Tate he knew exactly where to place the blame for this debacle. Directly on her shoulders.

She sighed. Guess she should be used to that.

Ward took charge of the questioning at that point, careful to keep his questions directed at what had happened and away from any insinuation of instability on her part.

Tate was careful to omit any information about the scent of the brown eyed man, keeping her answers short and simple.

The questioning didn’t take long after they covered what had happened that afternoon.

“You will give me a progress report when you think you’ve found something,” Ryu ordered as they began to leave.

Ward gave a grudging nod. “Of course, my lord. I’m relatively sure this Bridgette was the one responsible. We’ll question the rest of the household to ensure we don’t miss anything, but it’s clear that she is the most logical culprit.”

“I want to be in on the questioning,” Ryu said, his tone not inviting any argument.

Ward looked like someone had spit in his food but agreed.

“I’ll also let you know what we find out in regards to the murders last night,” he said.

What was this? Tate jolted forward, the words coming out of nowhere. It was like someone had just thrown ice water on her.

They pulled the door shut after them, leaving before Tate could spew any of the questions suddenly fighting for room in her mouth.

That left Ryu to answer.

She fixed him with an unblinking stare. He was content to stare back, looking vaguely amused at her bad mood. They’d just see who was amused by the end of this.

“What did he mean by the murders last night?” Tate asked, folding her arms over her chest. “

“That he would let me know if he found anything of note in the investigation.”

Uh huh. Tate took a deep breath.

“They’re the ones investigating.” Her voice was flat. Emotionless.

Ryu didn’t answer, the expression on his face telling Tate everything she needed to know.

“How can that be?” Tate shouted. “They have no respect for anyone who isn’t human. They’ll just pin the murders on the first easy target they can find.”

Ryu didn’t look like he disagreed.

“I can’t believe this. Given how delicate this mediation is, why would you let a couple of ham-fisted, bigoted louts ruin any interspecies goodwill that Jost manages to create?”

It made no sense. This investigation required a delicate touch. The only thing those two men were capable of was stomping all over things until they were broken beyond repair.

Unless.

She studied Ryu, noting the bland expression. He didn’t appear to care about the consequences.

“You’re hoping they embarrass themselves so badly that their order is given a black eye.”

With the visibility of this case, such a screw-up could have dire political consequences.

There was the faintest trace of satisfaction on Ryu’s face.

She knew it. She just knew it. Underhanded, scheming, manipulative dragon.

“Why do you care?” Ryu asked. “You didn’t know either of the victims.”

“That doesn’t mean they deserve to have those two idiots be the ones to put their memories to rest.”

She also suspected the murder had something to do with her poisoning. It was too big of a coincidence. It was the equivalent of waving a flag in front of a bull. It was personal now. She had a vested interest in seeing this to the conclusion. She didn’t know much about who she was preawakening in that chamber, but she suspected she was the vengeful sort. The kind of person who did not turn the other cheek when struck but returned the damage threefold.

Now, how to make Ryu understand that without showing just how blood thirsty the attempt on her life made her?

“Put me in charge of the investigation. Don’t just make me the liaison.”

“You think your poisoning had something to do with the murders,” Ryu said with a frown. He shook his head. “It didn’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“It was a different methodology. It’s unlikely the two events are connected.”

“If there’s a mastermind, it could simply be that two different people committed the acts. It would explain why the methods are different.”

“Unlikely. Either way, you’re too close to this now.”

“I’m just motivated.”

He snorted. “Of that I have no doubt.”

Tate’s sigh was angry. “Those two will never find the killer.”

Ryu looked amused. “Good try, but my decision stands. The Black Order will head up the investigation. I’m appointing Danny as the liaison.” Tate’s response was cut short when Ryu held up one hand. “I don’t want to hear it. If you’ve found anything out during your little visit here, report what you learned to Ward.”

Tate would rather have her nails ripped out one by one than pass along any helpful information to either of those two.

She fixed him with a glare, but he wasn’t budging on this. Tate had worked with him enough over the last few months to be able to tell where there was some wiggle room in his decisions and where he’d stand by them until the world burned down around him. This was the latter.

“Tate,” he said, his voice a warning.

“Fine,” Tate said, the words wrenched out of her unwillingly.

“Fine, what?”

Sheesh, it was like he didn’t trust her or something. Probably a good choice since she fully intended to keep investigating. She’d just be a little more circumspect.

“Fine, I’ll report everything I’ve found to the two annoyances.” After a lengthy period between her obtaining the information and finding the culprit.

The smile that graced Ryu’s face had the sort of wicked intensity that could make Tate’s chest feel weird. The kind of smile that invited a person to be just a little bit bad. If she didn’t find him downright annoying half the time, and he didn’t hold her fate in his hands, she might be tempted to take up the invitation in that smile. As it stood, things were too complicated for her to even think of him in that way.

“The Kairi will be in mourning for another day at the very least. For now, head home, eat something and get some rest. So many changes so close together will have taxed your body’s resources.”

“What would happen if I were to keep pushing?” Tate didn’t plan to do anything too taxing, but it would be good information to have for the future.

“Your body will begin shutting down. If you’re lucky, you’ll go into a temporary coma while it starts to repair itself. Push yourself far enough and you’ll die.”

Words to keep in mind. Tate had to wonder how far was too far. She felt a little shaky but no worse than she would after a long run or a particularly intense session with one of the martial arts instructors.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Ryu answered. “Come in.”

Gabriella poked her head through the door, her face unsure for perhaps the first time since Tate had met her.

“Is there something you need?” Ryu asked, his voice cold.

Tate shot him a glance. What was with the chilliness? He wasn’t always friendly but he didn’t usually sound like he was impersonating an arctic tundra either. What had happened while Ilith was gallivanting around?

“I just wanted to check on Tate.” Gabriella’s voice was deferential, totally at odds with how she normally spoke

“It is Lady Fisher to you.”

Wait. What? Since when?

Gabriella nodded stiffly, her eyes rising to Tate’s with an apology in them.

“That’s not necessary,” Tate said. “Please don’t call me that.”

“It is your title,” Ryu said. “It’s disrespectful of her to refer to you as anything other than Lady Fisher.”

Tate arched one eyebrow at Ryu. “So you’re going to start referring to me as Lady Fisher?”

Tate really hoped not. She’d never hear the end of it if Dewdrop caught wind of it.

He looked startled. “No, of course not. We’re friends.”

“And what makes you think I’m not friends with Gabriella?”

He gave her a look that said he knew what she was trying to do and it wouldn’t work. “You’ve known her for all of a day.”

“Correction, I’ve known her for several days.” Three if you wanted to be exact about it.

“Still not long enough to form a friendship where you can drop the formalities.”

Tate shrugged. “I bond quickly.”

Not true. Except in the case of Dewdrop and Night, but that was more of a bonding by fire scenario. Totally different.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

Did she?

“Would you be as stuck on this if I hadn’t been poisoned under her watch?” Tate asked, getting to the root of the problem.

A vein in his jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. She thought so.

While it was sort of sweet for him to want to blame everyone in a three foot radius for the poisoning, it was a problem she didn’t need. She liked Gabriella, or at least what she knew of Gabriella so far. Furthermore, she suspected there was a lot she could learn from the woman. She wouldn’t be able to do that if Ryu’s frostiness caused Gabriella to back away further.

“Gabriella had nothing to do with the poisoning,” Tate said, her eyes steady on Ryu. “She never got anywhere near the tea or any of the cookies I ate.”

Gabriella looked startled at that assertion from Tate.

“I’m observant,” Tate said with a wry grin. “You were never close enough to slip poison in to any of my food or drink.”

Ryu’s eyebrows lowered as he scowled at her. “Fine, but she’d better keep her eyes open from now on. I won’t tolerate any more incidences like this.”

Gabriella nodded, accepting his words.

Tate rolled her eyes. “You do know I’m standing right here and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Then do so,” Ryu snapped back. “Try not to get poisoned, kidnapped or tortured for the next day and maybe I won’t be prone to overreacting.”

“Those things don’t always happen.”

“Lucius, the red lady, this.” He gave her a sharp smile. “Should I go on?”

He had a point. A small one, but still a point.

She batted that point away. “I’m unlikely to encounter any nefariousness sleeping in my own bed.”

He arched one eyebrow. “With you, one never knows.”

Now that hurt Tate’s feelings. She didn’t always get into trouble. She’d stayed out of it for the most part for the last few months. His accusation was unjust. Really.

He headed for the door. “I’ll call a carriage for you. You’re in no shape to try to walk down to the Lower city at the moment.”

Tate waved a hand in acknowledgement. She’d like to argue with him, simply for the sake of arguing with him, but in this instance she would be grateful for the ride. Her legs were feeling more and more wobbly with each passing moment.

When the door closed behind Ryu, Tate turned to Gabriella.

“Well, you did say standing next to me would bring you excitement,” Tate said, watching the other woman carefully.

Gabriella snorted, the laugh pulled out of her unwillingly. “For the first time ever, I’ll say I wouldn’t mind having a little less excitement.”

“What? A dragon’s too much?”

Gabriella held her hand up thumb and pointer finger just barely apart. “I don’t know if it was the dragon so much as the half form you got caught in. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot.”

Tate could give her that. She couldn’t imagine someone caught midway through changing into another creature was particularly easy to watch.

“That and we were all convinced you were going to die.”

Tate looked over her with a quizzical expression. She hadn’t realized how close she’d come. She’d certainly felt like it at the time but had wanted to think it was her mind making things worse than they were. Maybe Ryu did have a reason to be so protective.

“Well, I didn’t,” Tate said in a crisp voice.

“No, you didn’t. Your dragon was beautiful,” Gabriella said. “And oddly funny. She would see someone and then grumble at them until they moved out of her way. Don’t get me wrong—the first couple of times we thought she was going to try to eat them, but every time she just nudged them out of her way and then would continue on. Of course, seeing her shove herself through spaces that were too small and then yowl when she got stuck was pretty humorous too.”

Tate wasn’t sure how she felt about that news, but she was glad Ilith hadn’t hurt anyone besides a kitchen full of beef.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Tate said, feeling the need to defend the dragon’s reputation. “She’s a fearsome predator when called upon.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. She demolished enough meat to feed this entire household for a week in the space of minutes.”

Ah, Tate had forgotten that Gabriella had probably witnessed that. She didn’t know which was worse, the dragon that got stuck in tight spaces or the dragon that was a glutton.

There was a scratch at the door. Gabriella looked at it with a tilted head before opening it. Night padded through, his golden eyes resting on Tate.

The carriage has been pulled around. Ryu had to get back to his previous engagement, but he said you’re to go straight home and rest. No stops in between.

Tate headed for the door with Gabriella falling in beside her.

“Did they find anything out about the poisoning?” Gabriella asked.

Tate shook her head. “Not that I’ve been told. The Black Order is in charge of the investigation.” Yeah, that sounded no better out loud than it did in Tate’s head.

Gabriella blew a raspberry, the sound startling. “Those blockheads couldn’t find their asses with both hands. Because the victim wasn’t human, they’re more likely to brush it under the rug and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Tate agreed. “I don’t think Ryu is going to let that happen.”

“If he pushes it, they’ll just point the finger at the easiest person to convict. Someone without the power to protect themselves or protest their innocence. I bet you that person is dead before they even spend a night in the Order’s cells.”

“I’m sure they’ll do the best they can.” Tate was sure of no such thing.

I doubt that. Night padded along by their sides. They tried to have me muzzled and chained because I was, and I quote, ‘a wild animal prone to snapping unexpectedly.’

Tate winced. Yeah, she was not a fan of those men.

Gabriella pointed at Night and raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘see.’ “Like I said, what’s our next move?”

By this time they were on the outside stairs leading down the cobblestone street where a black and green carriage waited.

“For now, heading home and sleeping until I feel less like a sailor on a three day bender and more like a normal human being.”

Gabriella sighed. “You win, for now.”

Tate gave her a cocky smile, exhaustion tugging at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll see you when talks resume.”

Night padded by her side as she walked down the stairs and climbed into the carriage. He leapt in after her. The door thudded shut and the carriage took off.

“Tate, so glad we could meet again,” Lucius said from the other side of the carriage.

Tate sighed. Ryu was never going to let her live this down.

Chapter Twelve

Night snarled next to Tate, his legs bunching beneath him as he prepared to spring.

“Ah, ah, kitty.” Lucius held up a rod. Blue fire ran up and down its length. “Just settle down over there. I’m not trying to hurt either one of you at the moment, but I will if you try to attack me.”

The sound that came out of Night was deep and guttural.

“It’s fine, Night. Let’s hear what our nice kidnapper has to say.”

Lucius Two favored his passengers with a pleased smile. “Why thank you. I do so appreciate skipping the histrionics and screaming. It makes everything go so much more smoothly.”

“Because we live to make our kidnapper’s life easier.” She gave him her best simpering expression.

She called him Lucius Two because he was the second one she met. He and Lucius One acted as one Night Lord, using the confusion of their identical names to throw off would-be assassins. She didn’t know which one was the real Lucius, or which came first, and doubted it mattered at this point. Both were prepared to step fully into the role should the other fall.

Despite having similar names, the two couldn’t look any more different. Lucius Two had blonde hair and the sort of face that said he would make the best of friends. Lucius One, by contrast, had piercing eyes and brown hair and looked like someone you would want to avoid running into after dark, or any time of the day really.

She supposed it was a good sign that they’d sent Lucius Two. He’d been almost cordial the last time they’d kidnapped her.

“What do you want Lucius?” Tate asked, tired of the games. She just wanted to find the nearest horizontal surface and get friendly with it.

“Me? Want something?” He spread his hands, a playful expression on his face.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Get to it. I’m tired and want to go home.”

“You make negotiating with you so easy, Tate. I’m a little disappointed. You were much more entertaining last time.”

“I can’t tell you how much that just stabs at my heart.”

“Careful, Tate. I’m not as enamored with you as your would-be dragon suitor is. I’m a Night Lord and due a certain level of respect.” The amusement dropped from Lucius’s face as if he’d removed a mask. For the first time, he seemed intimidating. She could see why he made up one half of the Lucius duo. Then it was like the sun came out as his face broke into a charming smile. “But I’ll let it slide since I do like you.”

“Gracious of you,” Tate murmured.

The carriage rocked to a stop and Blade popped open the door, climbing inside to join them. The door shut and the carriage took off again.

“I should have known you’d be lurking about somewhere,” Tate told Blade as he took a seat next to Lucius.

Half Kairi, Blade had some of their coloring with the jet black hair cut so close to the head that it was mostly stubble, and the all black eyes with the faintest edge of blue around the iris. What he was missing were the visible scales.

Blade gave Tate a small smile.

Night pulled his lips back exposing his teeth, his ears pinned back to his head.

“Your friend doesn’t look too happy to see us,” Blade said with his eyes on Night.

Tate shrugged. “He’s not a fan of surprises or people dropping in unexpectedly.”

“That’s a shame. He probably won’t last long in your company then.” Blade’s lips quirked.

She gave him a dirty look. Surprises didn’t always pop up around her. Just occasionally.

“I assume you two will get to the part about why you’re kidnapping us soon,” Tate said in a dry voice.

“Kidnapping? Who said anything about kidnapping?” Lucius asked with fake outrage. “We’re simply catching a ride with you.”

“And going in the opposite direction of our destination.” From what Tate could see, they weren’t heading for the Lower. It was surprising, since access to the Night Court was usually obtained near one of the markets in the Lower city, but perhaps there was an entrance near here too.

“Hasn’t anybody ever told you that the scenic route is always better?”

“No, somehow they’ve failed to mention it.”

“So serious,” Lucius said with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Again, what are you doing here?”

“A little birdie told me that your current work might place you in an advantageous spot to do us a favor,” Lucius said.

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I want.”

“I’ve heard enough to say no.” Tate was holding to that. There was no way she was getting involved in any of their schemes. They played in waters too deep for her tastes.

“That would be a pity for your friend.” Lucius shot Tate a meaningful look.

Tate’s sigh was angry, knowing she shouldn’t bite but unable to help it. “What friend?”

“Your little sidekick.” His gaze went to Night. “Your other sidekick. The one you have a name for.”

“Dewdrop,” Blade murmured.

Lucius snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”

“What about Dewdrop?”

“He’s been doing jobs for your friend, the dragon.” Lucius made a chiding sound with his tongue. “Bad idea. Taking jobs on the side and what not.”

“What does it matter to you if he works for Ryu from time to time?”

“Nothing.” Lucius shrugged then looked back at Tate. “Except he never officially left my court.”

Right. Tate tapped her finger against her thigh as she studied the two men in front of her. They didn’t care about Dewdrop. If they did, they would have confronted her months ago. No, Dewdrop was the stick they were trying to beat her with to get her to do what they wanted.

“Heard you kicked him out after he lost you the key to the fulcrum.”

Or rather after Tate escaped and they assumed she had the key. Turns out she didn’t have the thing, not that they would believe her.

“That was really meant to be just a temporary thing until he could buy his way back into our good graces.”

Instead, he threw his lot in with Tate and Night and never went back. She could see how the Luciuses might be sore about losing a talented pickpocket, but to be honest, they never should have thrown him away. Their bad judgment was Tate’s fortune.

“Not our problem that you’ve rethought your stance. Maybe next time don’t be so quick to kick someone out of your court.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Blade said, his words soft. “The Night Lords don’t act according to common people’s sensibilities. They believe they have a claim so they do.”

Lucius gave her a friendly smile that hid the cold-hearted bastard within.

Tate supposed it wouldn’t hurt to hear what they had to say. It seemed a small price to pay to safeguard Dewdrop. She didn’t have a lot of dealings with any of the Night Lords but they had power in the city. Granted, it was behind the scenes and of the sort that was highly illegal, but that wouldn’t stop a dagger from finding Dewdrop’s heart if they really wanted it to.

The only way to truly escape their influence would be to get Dewdrop out of the city. She doubted he would be willing to go along with that. He was definitely an Aurelian boy at heart.

“Let’s hear it then. What exactly are you expecting from us?”

“Nothing as bad as whatever you’ve got in your mind,” Lucius said. “It’s simple. We just need information.”

Ha. Simple. Only to an imbecile. Information, more than any other tool, had the power to upset empires; alter the course of history. The right piece of information could act like a domino—giving people the power to counteract and sabotage—knocking down the next domino until you’re standing next to a bonfire of regret. All because you gave up a seemingly innocent piece of restricted information.

Tate was curious about what they wanted to know. Sharing that knowledge would, no doubt, have consequences. The magnitude of them was the only thing in question. That, and whether it was an acceptable price to keep Dewdrop safe.

“This information won’t be used to harm anyone,” Lucius assured her, noting the skepticism on her face.

Maybe not today, but did she want to chance it in the future?

“Why do you want to know?”

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know that.”

“Then, no deal.” Her refusal was only partially a bluff. She doubted Lucius or Blade would go to the trouble of having Dewdrop killed, but who knew when dealing with the power players of the underground.

“Are you sure you want that to be your answer?”

She gave a careless shrug. “I’m not giving you anything when it might mean nasty repercussions for me or those I care about in the future. Not without having a better idea of how this information will be used.”

“Let’s just say there is a business opportunity that I’m thinking of seizing but am afraid that the terms are a little too good to be true.”

Tate studied them. A business opportunity. Were they planning to steal something? That’s actually how she met Dewdrop. His friend had lifted a valuable item off an important someone and Tate had stolen it back.

That left her with the question. What was it they planned to steal?

She doubted they would tell her.

“What business opportunity?”

On the other hand, it never hurt to ask.

“That’s for me to know,” Lucius said with a coy smile.

That’s what she figured.

“Why do business with someone you think is going to stab you in the back before it’s over?”

He spread his hands. “The sort of people I work with are all just waiting for their moment to betray me. If I didn’t do business with the untrustworthy sort, I’d never make any money.”

Hm. True. She supposed there was a shortage of honorable people in the circles he ran in.

“Why come to me? There have to be easier marks.”

“It’s because you’re so trustworthy,” he threw out there with a grin.

Tate snorted. Not the adjective usually used to describe her.

“No, really. I know you’re not going to go out of your way to blab to anybody and everybody. Oh, I know you’re probably going to report this conversation in its entirety to your dragon friend, but he’s not who I’m concerned about.”

Funny he should say that. Tate had always assumed Ryu had one foot in the underworld. Though, if that were the case, why wouldn’t Lucius have gone straight to him to find out this information?

“You flatter me so,” Tate said in a dry voice. “What is it you’re looking to find out?”

He leaned forward, his eyes alight. “Who is involved in this little job of yours?”

“I suspect you know.”

He shrugged one thin shoulder. “I want to hear it confirmed.”

“The Silva, the Kairi and the humans.”

“The main players, if you please.” His look said he knew that she had understood his question.

She sighed. It wasn’t like he couldn’t confirm this pretty easily on his own, and if it got Dewdrop off his mind, then all the better.

She listed the top people involved and a few of the academics when he asked.

“Which way are things leaning? Who will retain control of the dig?” Blade asked.

She shrugged. “No clue. We’ve only had one dinner. There was a lot of campaigning but nothing concrete to make a decision one way or the other.”

“I would have thought Jost would place more emphasis on resolving this quickly given the current climate in the city.”

“What do you mean?” Tate asked.

Lucius studied her. “There’s been a lot of distrust stirred up by angry rhetoric from some of the humans—those in positions of power such as the Black Order—against any of the Creator’s little side projects. This issue lingering gives them something to rally behind.”

“The Kairi have been in mourning since the night of the dinner. They haven’t been willing to sit down to discuss politics and Jost thought it best to humor them for now,” Tate said.

Lucius’s gaze sharpened. “Oh? Who died?”

Tate’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t known that. Damn. Probably shouldn’t have shared. By the way he eyed her like a starving man at a buffet, she had a feeling she wasn’t getting out of this carriage without giving him something.

“A Kairi by the name of Ithor and a human named Ronald.” She kept the knowledge of how they died to herself.

He sat back and tapped his lips. Blade looked like he’d bit into something sour.

“You know one of them?” Tate asked Blade.

He and Lucius shared a glance before he answered. “Only by reputation.”

Now it was Tate’s turn to arch her eyebrows with interest.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Tate said.

Blade looked at Lucius for permission.

Lucius smiled. “It’s only proper to return a favor. She did answer our questions fairly promptly.”

Blade’s lips quirked before he said, “It’s not widely known, but Ithor has a reputation among select people in the Kairi upper class for solving problems in ways that won’t be traced back to the owner. He provides solutions of a very permanent nature.”

The guy was an assassin. Made sense when you factored in the stiletto.

Who was he working for though? The obvious answer was the Shodon, but Tate wasn’t willing to make that assumption quite yet. It could easily be someone else in the Kairi delegation. Someone looking to take advantage of the angry emotions of the participants to incite an incident. All it would take was one timely death of any of the leading members in any of the delegations to bring about what Jost and Ryu feared. A schism in Aurelia that would light a match to rebellion and riots.

While plausible, that theory was a bit of a stretch. The more likely possibility would be that he was working for someone with an agenda concerning the discovery. Hell, Tate didn’t know.

It did explain some of the shock and lack of emotion in the Kairi delegation when his death was announced. Who would expect an assassin to be taken out? And why? Did Ithor’s mark strike before he did?

“How did Jost not know about this?” Tate asked. His information was usually spot on. If he’d known, she couldn’t imagine he would have let Ithor remain at the dinner.

Blade shrugged. “Ithor’s side job isn’t widely known. I doubt many, if any, outside of the Kairi noble class know of him.”

That begged the question of how Blade got ahold of this little tidbit.

Seeing the question on her face, Blade pointed to his eyes. “The blue ring is a sign of noble blood. It doesn’t always breed true, but occasionally the trait pops up in a bastard. My upbringing gave me exposure to many secrets that the Kairi guard from outsiders.”

Tate was surprised at the additional explanation and the nonchalant way that Blade had revealed it. There was probably quite a story as to how a noble’s bastard came to be working for a Night Lord.

“Ah, here is our stop,” Lucius said before Tate could ask any further questions. He rapped on the roof and the carriage swayed to a stop. “I’d tell you to limit your involvement in this matter for your health and the health of your friends, but I suspect there is no extracting yourself at this point.”

He suspected right. She wouldn’t let this rest even if she had a choice in the matter.

The two men climbed out. Blade paused in the doorway. “Good luck. Try not to get yourself killed. It’d be considerably less amusing without you around.”

“I always try not to get killed,” Tate said, vaguely insulted. It’s like they thought she ran around jumping into the most dangerous situation available.

He flashed her one last grin before banging the door shut. The carriage jolted as it began moving again.

Night hopped down and onto the seat across from Tate, his tail swishing unhappily.

“I know. You don’t have to say anything,” she told him. “I’m no happier about their involvement than you are.”

*

Tate blinked groggily up at the ceiling. Something had woken her. Her eyes were sliding shut when another knock came at her door. That must have been what summoned her out of her coma-like sleep.

She glared at the door, not relishing the thought of dragging herself out of bed. Maybe whoever was knocking would be so kind as to go away.

They didn’t. The pounding just got louder. Even burying her head under the pillow didn’t provide any relief.

She exploded out of bed, yanking her door open and glaring at the culprit. Danny shoved in past her.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to force your way into another person’s room,” Tate said. She was still too tired to deal with whatever it was he wanted.

Dewdrop slipped through the door before she could finish closing it.

“No, please, come right in. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” she said in a sarcastic voice.

“You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours,” Dewdrop informed her.

Tate blinked. It hadn’t felt like that long. From the exhaustion still tugging at her, she knew she could have slept for a few more. Note to self, changing into a dragon pretty much kills the rest of any day. Good to know for the future.

“Get dressed. We need to go. We’re already late.” Danny tossed a pair of pants and a shirt at her from where he’d been digging in her bag of clothes.

Tate caught the pants but missed the shirt. It fell to her feet.

“Heard you got stuck in a change and almost didn’t make it back,” Dewdrop said, taking a bite of an apple. “How’d you managed to get poisoned, by the way? That’s got to be a record for you.”

“It was in the tea.” She stole the apple from him, batting him away when he tried to take it back. Munching on it, she said, “What’s going on? Where are we going? Not that I don’t like having you here, Danny.”

The burly man gave her a shy smile. “We’ve got to meet Jost on the other side of the city. We’re heading to the tunnels to see the discovery site.”

Tate finished the apple and tossed the core at Dewdrop. He caught it with a moue of distaste.

“Why there?”

Not that it didn’t make sense. It was a good idea to see the site where this whole mess originated.

“The academics are claiming their discovery has been robbed.”

“And the other two groups are claiming the academics did the robbing,” Tate guessed.

Danny dipped his chin in acknowledgement.

Tate ran her fingers through her hair. A lot had happened in the past twelve hours. She eyed her bed with longing. Looked like it was going to be awhile until she had a chance to get back in it.

“Alright, give me a few minutes and I’ll be right down.”

“Wear those clothes.” Danny pointed at what was in her hand and by her feet. “Don’t try to switch them for something else.”

“What are you saying?”

“Your fashion sense sucks,” Dewdrop supplied. Danny nodded in agreement.

Tate didn’t dignify that with a response, ushering the two out of her bedroom.

She held up the clothing, now seeing it was actually three pieces. She didn’t recognize the pants or the vest. Had Danny brought them with him? They were much better looking than anything she owned.

She shrugged. Might as well wear them. She just hoped he wasn’t expecting any sort of compensation.

*

The carriage jolted, catapulting Tate out of dreamland. She yawned and sat up from where she’d been leaning against the side of the carriage. She rotated her neck back and forth, trying to work out the crick from it.

Jost was reading a stack of papers next to her while Danny sat across from them staring outside. Dewdrop had elected to ride in front with the driver. Tate would have liked that option, not appreciating being cooped up for the five hour ride, but Jost and Danny had rejected that, stating that the witness needed to give the appearance of decorum even if she loathed the very idea of it.

“We almost there?” Tate asked.

“We just turned down the last road before we have to get out and walk,” Jost said without looking up.

“Walk?” Tate stared down at the nice pair of boots Danny had shoved at her, stating that the beat up things on her feet didn’t match the outfit, in skepticism. Nobody had said anything about walking and she wasn’t sure how the new footwear would hold up against distance.

“Yes, the Academy hasn’t wanted to spare the expense of creating easy access with the threat of having the discovery yanked from them. Unfortunately, there are no passable roads that will allow the carriages to travel on them.”

“It’s not far,” Danny said, reading her mind. “Just a little bumpier than this thing can handle. Your boots should be able to handle it without causing blisters. Their maker is known for his ability to create the most comfortable footwear.”

Tate shrugged. If she got a blister, he’d be the first to hear about it.

“What’s my role this time?”

“Observe and report back. Try not to touch or break anything. Also, try to keep everyone from killing each other,” Jost finished in a dry voice.

Everything sounded simple except that last part.

“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Tate said.

Jost smiled down at his papers. She glanced at them, trying to see what he was so focused on. She wasn’t used to seeing this side of him, though she supposed it made sense. He would have to be smart to plan the type of jobs he excelled at. The kind that left authorities scratching their collective heads after he pulled it off wondering just how he did it.

Tate was just used to seeing him always on the move, the force of his personality practically taking up space. Not quiet and focused.

“I ran into a friend of yours today.” Tate thought about it. “Well actually, yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“A Night Lord. One of the Luciuses in fact.”

Jost’s head shot up. “What did he want?”

“Information about your peace talks. Who is involved; what way you seem to be leaning. He was very interested to learn about the murder.” Tate decided to leave out the part where he’d hijacked the carriage. If she told Jost, he’d no doubt tell Ryu, and she just didn’t want to deal with the ‘I told you so’s’.

“It’s concerning that he’s taken an interest in this,” Danny said.

“We did suspect one of the Night Lords were involved.”

“Anything I need to know in case he puts himself in my vicinity again?” Tate asked.

“No. Answer any of his questions. I’d be interested to know what else he’s looking to find out.”

The conversation done, Jost turned back to his papers.

“Looks like we’re just about there,” Danny said, peering out the windows. Tate didn’t know how he could tell. The trees all looked the same to her. Moments later, the carriage slowed before finally coming to a halt.

Jost and Danny disembarked, Tate following. They stepped out onto a dirt road lined by ancient trees with trunks so wide around it would take ten Tates with arms outstretched to circle them. It made her feel like an ant next to a giant, insignificant and in awe of nature.

Tate’s memories began with snow and rock and tundra and ended with the sea and Aurelia. None of the green vibrancy and cacophony of sound that currently surrounded her.

“You act like you’ve never seen a forest before,” Dewdrop said, coming to stand next to her.

“None that I can remember anyway.” Tate’s head was tilted back to stare at the tree tops, their branches swaying gently with a wind not felt by those on the ground.

She glanced at Dewdrop. He looked startled at her admission. He turned to look around him with new eyes. “The most beautiful forests I’ve ever seen were in the west lands. The green was so deep and vibrant that it almost burned my eyes.”

She looked back at him. “Maybe we can take Night and the cubs to visit someday.”

He shrugged, looking pleased with her suggestion.

Several other carriages clattered around the bend in the road, pulling to a stop next to theirs. People began pouring out of them.

“Were you expecting so many to come?” Tate asked Jost.

“No. I wasn’t.” Jost didn’t look pleased at the turnout.

Tate didn’t blame him. There were too many to manage easily. If they decided to have a fight, they’d overwhelm the four of them with little effort. From the irritation present on many faces, it didn’t look like it would take much for that to happen.

“This is going to be interesting,” Danny muttered.

Tate grunted in agreement.

“No, it won’t, because they’re not all going,” Jost declared, looking fit to do battle. He strode off to where the Silva and the Kairi were glaring daggers at each other.

Jost barked a command and the group ejected Tala and the Shodon. Both looked displeased to be called out—Tala gesturing to her people and the Shodon frowning severely. His guards looked dismayed at whatever orders Jost was relaying.

During the course of this, the Duke of Spiritly, his daughter Roslyn, and several of the academics arrived. Some in carriages, some on horseback.

With the addition of the newcomers and their retinue, there were about fifty people clogging up the road.

“The captain is not going to be happy about this,” Danny said, eyeing the newcomers with a disgruntled expression.

“What message, exactly, did everyone receive to rush all the way over here?” Tate asked.

“Only the head of each delegation was supposed to attend so that we could see what damage the looters inflicted. They were all told only a small number could go into the tunnels. It’s dangerous to have too many people down there at a time.”

“What makes it so dangerous?” Dewdrop asked. He, like Tate, was very familiar with the death trap under Aurelia.

“The ancients left traps in several areas, not all of which have been safely triggered and dismantled. In some places, there is also a threat of collapse where the interior has been damaged.”

Dewdrop looked as thrilled at that news as Tate.

“Looks like they didn’t listen and called for all hands on deck,” Tate said. And maybe put in a call out to their homelands for a few more warm bodies to fill the ranks.

Jost strode back to them, looking about as irritated as he had on ship when one of the midshipmen failed to rig the sail correctly.

“What’s the verdict, oh fierce one?” Tate asked with a jaunty grin.

Jost blinked at her, taken aback by the informal address. She blinked right back at him, waiting for his response. He wasn’t her captain. This wasn’t his ship; she could address him however she liked, as long as she didn’t go too far.

He decided to go with it. Mentally, she applauded his choice.

“They’re allowed two guards each. The Duke and his daughter may bring one guard each. I’m also allowing the archaeologist who made the discovery and his assistant to come with us since they are the most familiar with the tunnels.”

That was probably for the best. If these tunnels were even half as intricate as the ones Tate woke up in or the ones under Aurelia, she didn’t want to be wandering around down there without a guide.

The groups were rearranging themselves, some of the members heading back for their carriage or horse to wait.

When those who were going had separated from those who were staying, Elijah, the academic Tate had sat across from at the dinner party, led the way into the forest.

Tate bellied-up to yet another tree root blocking the path. The thing rose to chest level. Going under was not an option, not unless she wanted to crawl through the mud and chance being bitten by whatever dangerous insects lived in this forested swamp. She planted her hands and heaved, swinging one leg up to get over it, almost falling when her foot slid out. The damn mud they’d been walking through for the last hour made everything slippery.

She caught up to Jost and waited until they were out of immediate hearing range from the rest of the group before asking, “How did they even find this place? I know they said a farmer was looking for land to clear and drain, but this seems a little remote.”

It would take hundreds of hours of manpower to clear an area big enough to plant. That said nothing of having to build a dam to prevent the fields from flooding every year during spring and winter.

Jost looked like he was considering her question. Tate was relieved he hadn’t brushed it off as unimportant.

He studied the swamp around them. The trees were huge, and looked like they had been there forever—their trunks thick and the roots exposed. Several of the trees grew in still, murky water, which Elijah had cautioned them against stepping foot in, as deadly creatures made those deceptively calm waters their home.

The site’s ‘random’ discovery seemed increasingly unlikely. The forest and the warren of waterways it sat on was thick. If they somehow had discovered it by chance, they were the luckiest tunnel hunters ever.

Jost shook his head. “I can’t tell you. I’m frankly astonished they’ve been able to find as many of these places as they have, let alone recover anything without getting themselves killed. The Ancients were notorious for hiding their tunnels in the least likely places and setting traps for their enemies.”

“Because they were at war with the Creators.” Tate remembered this from the history course Ryu had forced her to take.

“And later, with each other.”

Right, Tate did remember hearing about that. When the Saviors finished liberating the three peoples from the Creators, there were several years of peace before the differences in each of the species eventually drove wedges that resulted in war.

“Those who go into this field often have a short life expectancy,” Danny added. He’d caught up to them shortly after Tate had asked her questions. “They’re all a little crazy, if you ask me.”

Tate arched an eyebrow at him. “Because piracy is much more likely to lead to a long life and dying of old age.”

“Only if you’re good at what you do,” he said with a grin.

Tate snorted and shook her head. Pirates. Always cocky and convinced nothing could touch them. He knew as well as she did that a lot of it came down to luck. You could plan for the worst case scenario as much as you’d like, but life had a way of tossing something into the mix that fucked even the best laid plans to the underworld and back.

“Looks like we’re here,” Dewdrop said from ahead of them. He was perched on a large boulder half buried in the muck and looking down the trail.

Tate felt relieved. Her shirt was sticking to her back, and her hair was probably matted with sweat.

Next to Dewdrop was a pillar, battered and chipped by the elements of time. Large parts covered by creeping vines, and tree branches shielded the upper third from view. Its base was wide and carved with symbols, most faded and half gone due to erosion. This must be the obelisk that the Academics said the farmer discovered.

Tate stepped around the hulking monument and came into view of the ruins. What once must have been a series of small stone buildings were now half destroyed and in the process of being reclaimed by the swamp. Tree roots grew through several of the walls and branches stuck out the top. Creeper vines and moss threaded their way through the structure.

Several tents were set up in front of the ruin. The Academics must have decided they were necessary to prevent needing to go back to the city every night. Given that most of the morning was now gone just trying to get here, Tate could understand.

A man walked up to Tate and Dewdrop holding two shirts that looked like they were made from a pliable, woven metal.

“Put these on,” he said, tossing the shirts at them.

Tate caught hers and held it up, eyeing it with skepticism. Upon closer inspection, it looked a little like chain mail, the interlocked links creating a shirt that had some mobility to it. The thing weighed a lot less than a full metal shirt, and was a lot more flexible than armor.

“What are these?”

“They’re meant to protect you. Don’t take them off.”

“Protect us from what?” she asked. The man didn’t answer, walking off to hand shirts to the others straggling into the clearing.

The Silva and the Kairi had had no trouble with the long hike, pushing to increase the pace several times when they deemed it too slow. It was the humans that seemed the most ill at ease in the forest. As a result, Tala and her two guards and the Shodon and his guards were already wearing the shirts.

Gabriella appeared next to Tate, taking the shirt from Dewdrop’s hands and stuffing him into it.

“The zeri shirts are useful in fooling the magics in these places,” she explained as she used straps on the back of the shirt to tighten it so that Dewdrop wasn’t swimming in the excess material meant for an adult much larger than him.

“Magic?” Tate asked.

Gabriella nodded. “All of these places have something. The metal strands in the shirt’s weave will keep some of the magic from attaching itself to you. It’ll make you resistant but not impervious. So don’t go throwing yourself in front of anything.”

“How do you know all this?” Tate asked.

Gabriella’s eyes slid toward Tala and her fellow guard.

“When I was younger, I thought about joining one of the academies and pursuing a life uncovering the Ancients’ secrets.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dewdrop asked.

Her smile was complicated, hinting of things that she would prefer to keep to herself. “Life is not always lived according to your own dreams and desires.”

Tate finished sliding into her shirt and tightening the material down. She gave the other woman a sidelong look. That sounded like a hard way to live your life.

She kept her questions about what had led Gabriella to that conclusion inside. If she’d known the other woman a little better, she might have chanced such a personal question. Or maybe not. Once you started asking questions of that nature, you invited the same. Tate didn’t like explaining her situation over and over again. She didn’t like the pity she sometimes saw in other people’s faces when they learned about the gaping holes in her memory.

“They’re about ready,” Danny said, coming up to stand beside them. “Elijah said stay away from anything marked with red or yellow. That signifies a trap or a suspected trap that hasn’t been disarmed yet.”

“How dangerous is this?” Tate asked, looking at Dewdrop. She should probably make him stay topside.

“Safe enough if you stay on the path,” Jost said, joining them. “I’ve been down twice before. The path is well marked and easy to follow.”

Still, things happened.

“Absolutely not,” Dewdrop said, reading the look on her face. “I’m not staying behind.”

“Dewdrop.”

“No, that wasn’t our deal. We’re partners, remember? You don’t get to leave me behind. Not for any reason.” The look on his face said that this wasn’t up for debate. That if she tried to leave him behind, even if it was for his own good, they were done.

The thing about Dewdrop was that he might look like a teenager, but his life experience made it difficult for him to accept when others wanted to treat him as anything but an adult.

“He should be safe,” Jost said, reading Tate’s body language. She would destroy their friendship in a heartbeat if she thought it would protect him. She’d regret it, but she’d rather him be angry and not talking to her then lying dead in the ground somewhere.

“Fine,” she said. “You stay with the group. Don’t go wandering off and touching things.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Like I’m the one that does that sort of thing. You’re the one always getting into trouble.”

He did have a point.

Chapter Thirteen

Tate followed the rest of the group and stepped through what might have at one point been a doorway, but was now a gaping hole with vines that had been hacked away to reveal the entrance. Her feet rustled through dead leaves and other debris that had drifted inside the dwelling over time. There were large patches of light where sunlight filtered through the holes in the roof. A tree grew in the middle of the room, its branches poking through the open spaces.

“Do you think any animals live in here?” Dewdrop asked.

Tate grimaced. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“I’m sure they took the time to clear any out before starting work,” she said. She hoped that was the case at least.

They entered a long hall. Their footsteps echoed in the vast space as they traversed its length. On the far end was a wall that faded and disappeared when Elijah touched several places on the adjacent wall. Rough stairs led down into a dark hole. Torches had been affixed to the rock and Elijah lit them as he led their group down.

It was a tight fit. Tate balanced herself against the wall on either side, grimacing at the damp feeling of the rock.

The stairs twisted in on themselves, following the natural flow of the rock. Whoever had built these tunnels had taken advantage of thousands of years of water wear. They were slick and slippery from moisture, and covered with a thin green algae or moss. Dewdrop nearly knocked Tate over the second time he slipped.

“Watch it,” one of the duke’s guards snapped when Tate bumped him while trying to stabilize Dewdrop.

She didn’t respond, though she had a brief vision of kicking his legs out from under him and then laughing as he slid down the treacherous steps.

“Friendly group,” Dewdrop muttered.

Tate made a sound of agreement. She concentrated on navigating the next portion. It was trickier—the stairs broken and crumbling. “Watch your step here.”

“How did Night get out of this fun little trip?” Dewdrop groused, being careful to step over the unstable portion.

Good question.

“He said it was your turn to watch Tate,” Danny said from behind them.

That wasn’t all he’d said. When he’d heard they were going back underground, he’d called them a bunch of witless cubs and said he wasn’t stepping foot in this place. Pax and Willa also needed him. Their neighbor couldn’t watch them today since she had business elsewhere. The cubs were fine on their own for the most part, but Willa hadn’t felt well that morning and he wanted to keep an eye on the two.

When they reached the bottom, the space widened. Tate could already tell these tunnels weren’t like the ones under Aurelia. Arches had been carved into the walls, turning the ceiling into a dome high above them. The pattern continued for several hundred feet into the distance, until the tunnel became a T. The floor had bricks laid into it, creating geometric designs. Some of the bricks had broken over time and there were bare patches that showed the bare stone of the tunnel beneath.

Tate touched one wall gently, noting the tool marks left behind. Aurelia’s tunnels were unnaturally smooth. Like glass. They were built of a unique stone that gave off the softest of glows. These tunnels were just ordinary rock and brick. You could tell the architects had meant the design of the floors and walls to stimulate the mind, but it was not the same as those under Aurelia.

“As we said above, stay away from any areas marked in red or yellow,” Elijah said from under the first arch. “We will not be held to blame if one of you disregards our warnings and get yourselves killed.”

“How do we know that things have been properly marked?” the duke’s guard asked.

“You don’t,” Elijah said with a sour expression on his face. “No one does. That’s part of why these places are so heavily restricted. You’re only here because the mediator ordered us to let you down here.”

Jost stepped forward. “We are guests here. You are to listen to Elijah and his assistant. These places are set up with traps capable of killing all of us. Please do not make me force you out. You will not like the consequences I level on your delegation.”

The threat was clear in his tone. She could see him carrying out on his promises; by the looks on the others faces, they believed him too.

Once he’d leveled a glare at each person and received their acknowledgement of his instructions, he turned to Elijah. “Please lead on to where you suspect the looters did damage.”

Elijah nodded and picked up a hand-held lamp with a softly glowing orb in it. His assistant handed several similar lamps out. Dewdrop snagged one before he could hand it to the duke’s men.

Roslyn came to stand beside Tate, examining the area around them.

“What do you think of all this?” Roslyn asked.

“I think it would be very easy to get down here if you knew where to look and there was no guard to protect the entrance.”

Roslyn’s head tilted and her forehead furrowed in confusion. Tate’s answer was unexpected. Roslyn went along with it. “My father assigned round-the-clock guards. Two above ground and two at the bottom of the stairs.”

“Were any of them hurt when the looters came through?” Dewdrop asked.

She shook her head. “They were unharmed. Their replacements found them asleep. My father was furious when he learned they were sleeping on duty. He’s stripped them from our guard and reported them to their guild. It’ll be difficult for them to get another job as personal protection after this.”

“All of them were asleep?” Tate asked.

“So the replacement said.”

That was interesting. She could see one, maybe two falling asleep, but all four?

Dewdrop looked thoughtful and he gave Tate a meaningful glance. She nodded but didn’t say anything.

Tate noticed Gabriella behind them, observing intently, her sharp eyes not missing anything. Tate decided to drop this topic, not wanting to draw too much attention.

The group walked in silence for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

“How much further do you think it is?” Dewdrop asked. If Tate hadn’t known him as well as she did, she wouldn’t have heard the faint trace of unease in his voice.

“Not much further,” Roslyn said. “The main find is in one of the chambers off this branch of tunnels.”

“You’ve been here before?” Tate asked.

Roslyn looked away, pricking Tate’s interest.

“Yes, my father thought I’d be interested to see how our investment was being used.”

Roslyn didn’t sound happy about that. Tate wondered if it had something to do with the duke’s obsession with finding an artifact that Roslyn could bond with. She imagined it must be uncomfortable for your parent to be so convinced that you were incomplete that they would go to such lengths to fix you. Tate was once again grateful not to have any known familial bonds. In Roslyn’s case they looked like they came with a whole bunch of strings attached.

By now they had passed several branches in the tunnel. There were slots in the walls, empty dark holes about the size of a human adult if they laid down. Tate couldn’t help but feel something was just waiting for the right moment to jump out at them.

Dewdrop looked around with unease. “I can’t wait until we’re out of here.”

Gabriella nodded, looking at those empty holes with distaste.

Tate held her lamp up to the wall, illuminating one of the slots. Nothing in its space, just smooth stone and dust.

It was creepy, like walking among the dead. She was with Dewdrop on this. She wanted out of here as soon as possible. This place did not give her a good feeling.

“What do you think these were used for?” Dewdrop asked in a hushed tone.

“They were probably used to inter the dead,” Gabriella said, tension in her voice. She did not look thrilled to see those holes.

The rest of the Silva looked no happier. Tala was quietly furious as she peered into the slots.

“Where did the bodies go?” Dewdrop asked.

He was right. There were no sign of dead in any of the slots.

“Maybe they were created but never used,” Tate said. It was possible. They might have abandoned the tunnels before the burial platforms were needed.

“No, these type of platforms were created as needed. Each one of these should house a body and the dead’s most treasured possessions.” Gabriella’s face was grim and her eyes sad as she looked at the walls.

Tate looked around. There must have been at least fifty slots. That was a lot of bodies to go missing.

Ilith stirred on her shoulder, the first sign of movement since the change the day before. The dragon stretched, pulling and kneading at Tate’s skin before coiling around her neck, her head peeking above of the collar of her shirt.

Tate could sense the dragon’s interest in the zari shirt. Ilith did something and the shirt shimmered. Tate flinched as whatever Ilith did rebounded back to them, stinging and nipping at her skin.

“Stop that,” Tate muttered to the dragon.

Dewdrop looked at her with surprise. Tate shook her head at him and he turned away, used to the way she sometimes talked to the dragon.

Not having heard Tate’s comment, Roslyn responded to Gabriella, “As far as I know there were never any dead in this section of the tunnel.”

“No offense, but I doubt you would have been told had there been any,” Gabriella said. “Your father would have ordered them removed as soon as they were discovered. Their presence would have automatically confirmed the Silva’s claim on this place.”

Roslyn straightened, looking every inch the injured noble as she said, “I’m sure my father and the academics would have acted in good faith should any dead have been present.”

Dewdrop snorted. “The only thing the nobility are sure to have done is act in their own best interests.”

Tate slapped his shoulder. He rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut against any other sour words.

Privately, she agreed with him. She’d seen enough to know that the powerful usually only cared about themselves, with a few rare exceptions. That didn’t mean they could air those opinions. Not when they were supposed to be a neutral party in this little disaster.

“That’s not true,” Roslyn argued. “My father has worked for many years to bring about change to better the city and its people. You cannot simply cast blame because you don’t like that he was born to more opportunities than you.”

Dewdrop and Gabriella looked like they wanted to argue. Tate could see this spiraling into something that went on for hours and involved others in the group.

“You are both entitled to your opinions,” she said, forestalling further argument. “However, we’re not here to debate nobility versus the rest of the city. Let’s focus on the matter at hand.”

The tunnel ended abruptly. Elijah, Jost and the Shodon stood waiting for everyone else to catch up. When everyone had gathered, Elijah turned to the wall and ran his hands around it before pressing.

As it had in the hall, the wall flashed and then dissolved. On the other side was an octagonal room. It was huge and could easily fit a group three times the number of people they had.

Tate wasn’t the only one staring around in disbelief. Even the Shodon, whose face was normally neutral, looked almost in awe of the room.

A mosaic ran along the walls, the greens, blues and greys as vivid today as they must have been when the mosaic was first created. The floor had three levels, each following the shape of the room and allowing people to step down. The lowest level had a design full of swoops and swirls on the floor—almost a starburst pattern—around what looked very much like an altar to Tate.

It was white with a clear glass on top. Similar to something she had encountered under Aurelia when she had escaped the Luciuses and met a girl named Ai down there.

She walked around the top tier of the floor as others ventured down to the altar. There was a pattern to this mosaic that teased at Tate’s brain. Something about it was familiar—as if she’d seen it at some point in the past.

Around and around she walked until she’d walked the room three times, Dewdrop shadowing her. She ignored Elijah holding court at the bottom as he explained how they’d discovered the hidden room and what they’d found.

“You recognize this place?” Dewdrop asked.

Tate looked around and shrugged. “Not sure.”

“You sure act like it. You’ve got that expression on your face.”

“What expression? I don’t have an expression.”

“Yes, you do. The one that says there’s something scratching at the corners of your mind. It usually means you’re going to go off on some harebrained scheme based entirely off a feeling that something might or might not be familiar.”

“That happened once,” Tate said, resuming her walk around the chamber.

“You’re forgetting the time the street seller had a loaf of bread that, and I quote, ‘reminded you of a dream you had. It could be a clue Dewdrop. Let’s follow him.’”

“It could have been a clue.”

“The city guard tried to arrest us because the street seller accused us of working for his competition and trying to steal his recipes.”

“This time I think I’m really onto something.”

Dewdrop folded his arms and lifted his eyebrows, not impressed in the least by her thoughts.

She pointed to the walls. “I can’t explain it, but I could swear I’ve seen these patterns before.”

He came to study the wall with her. “Any idea where?”

She shook her head, frustration coloring her tone. “It’s odd. I can tell you I’ve seen it before, even point out the missing piece, but I can’t tell you how I know or where I know it from.”

Sensing her mood, Ilith’s mind squeezed hers gently in sympathy. She touched the dragon where she rested against Tate’s throat, giving Ilith a gentle caress along her back. Tate didn’t know if Ilith felt it when she was in tattoo form, but it made her feel better to have that bit of comfort.

“Excuse me.” A mousy looking man with thick glasses popped up between them. His hair stuck straight up from his head making him look perpetually surprised. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You think something is missing from this pattern?”

Dewdrop leaned back and shot Tate a look from behind the man’s back and mouthed, ‘who is this guy?’

Tate shrugged, trying to keep the motion as subtle as she could.

The man seemed familiar. If he was down here, he was related to this place in some way. He lacked the amber eyes of the Silva and the coloring of the Kairi. By process of elimination, that made him human. She couldn’t see him as the Duke of Spiritly’s guard which meant he had to be an Academic. Probably an assistant.

“And who are you?” Tate asked.

The man flushed. “Ah, I forgot. I’m Josef. I work with Elijah.”

“You’re his assistant?” Tate asked.

“Head researcher,” Josef corrected, puffing up a little bit.

“I apologize. I hadn’t realized.”

Dewdrop widened his eyes comically behind Josef’s back. Tate’s mouth twitched as she fought to keep a straight face.

“No one ever does,” Josef muttered. “Elijah likes to keep all the attention focused on himself. Never mind that it was my contact who discovered this place and my years of research in following the migratory pattern of ancient verlock birds that led us to this area.”

Tate was hard-pressed to keep a polite expression on her face. This guy seemed to have a lot of pent-up anger. Though why he was expressing it to her, she didn’t know.

Gabriella drifted to stand beside Tate, looking interested in their conversation. She gave Tate a considering look before observing the mosaic.

“Anyway, you said something about this pattern having a missing piece,” he said.

Tate blinked, hoping her stray comment wasn’t about to get her into trouble. “Yes, uh. That’s what it seemed like to me.”

“Can you show me where?”

She nodded and gestured at a spot where it felt like something was missing. It was so obvious that she doubted she was the first one to notice.

The mosaic, which covered every wall in one continuous pattern, was mostly made up of repeated shapes and colors. The floors were also covered in a pattern that ran counterclockwise to the one on the walls. There was one spot where the pattern was broken. The colors slightly off and the lines starting to jog. From there, it was like a spider web where the pattern became more and more broken before becoming a second pattern within the first.

Josef stepped close to where Tate indicated and touched the wall gently. “Fascinating. It took me three months to even realize that something was off in this room. It took me another four months to pinpoint where the abnormality originated. How did you do that so quickly?”

Tate shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the way Josef was staring at her like she was a bug that he wanted to stick a pin in and study. It didn’t help that Dewdrop was giving her his best ‘you are seriously odd’ expression. She fought the urge to shuffle in place, not wanting to seem unsure.

“It just stood out to me.” And it had, like a pebble dropped into still water.

“Have you done work with the warring states era before?” he asked with an inquisitive glance.

Tate didn’t even know what that meant.

Gabriella squatted next to the spot Tate had indicated. “I have and I didn’t notice until she pointed it out.” She touched the wall near the spot. “Now that I see it, it’s impossible to miss.”

“I agree,” Josef said, crouching next to her. “I’ve seen countless versions of this in other rooms we’ve discovered but it always takes a while to discover.”

“But once you do, you’re left wondering how you ever missed it.” Gabriella finished his thought.

Dewdrop looked at Tate and raised and lowered his eyebrows a few times, gesturing discreetly to the two bonding over the mosaic.

“Where did you study?” Josef asked Gabriella.

“I’m mostly self-taught though I did attend several classes at the Ravin Academy in Sylvain.”

“I’ve always wanted to attend there. Just to see how the tunnels found in Sylvain differ from those found in the rest of the continent. From what I’ve heard, most of the ones near there are much more heavily influenced by the Creators.”

“You could apply to attend. They do have guest lecturer spots,” Gabriella said.

“I did. It’s incredibly hard to get in. The waiting list is years long and you need a referral from at least one Silva clan head.”

Tate winced. From what she’d seen of Silva relations with the Academics so far, it would be incredibly hard to obtain that referral. No wonder the Academics were holding so tight to this find. It gave them a rare glimpse into an area of study not easily accessible for them. Tate could see why they were frothing at the mouth at the thought of having this taken away from them.

There wasn’t much Gabriella could say in response. The man looked crestfallen at his explanation.

“And you?” Josef asked Tate when the silence turned awkward.

“I haven’t studied anywhere.”

“So you just walked in here and were able to spot the key.” Skepticism was heavy in his voice.

“Key? I don’t understand.”

“The break in pattern is usually referred to as a key,” Gabriella explained. “It’s meant as a way to allow your allies access without you needing to be present. They’re in many of the Ancients’ constructs, though we are not always skilled at spotting them. We haven’t been able to unlock many of the mosaics discovered.”

Josef glared at Tate as if he suspected she was holding something back and it offended him.

“You’ll have to forgive Tate,” Dewdrop inserted. “She does odd things all of the time. She’s a bit unique in that way.”

Josef didn’t look like he believed that explanation, but he let up on his questions about Tate’s background. She was grateful for that.

“Do you see anything else?” Gabriella asked Tate when the silence turned awkward.

Tate looked around. “Not really. I only noticed because the colors in these tiles were slightly off. Once I noticed that, the other oddities couldn’t be ignored.”

“What color difference?” Gabriella asked. “Can you show me?”

“Sure.” Tate didn’t see how they could miss it, but she was willing to humor them.

She stepped forward and pointed to the three tiles in question, each no bigger than two of her finger nails. The shift in color was subtle. On second thought maybe it wasn’t the color. They just seemed to have an odd sheen to them.

“These tiles?” Josef asked, peering at them closely.

“Those would be the ones.”

“I don’t see anything,” he said. His face was so close to them that it was practically pressed against the wall. Tate wouldn’t be surprised if he came away with tile marks.

“I don’t either.” Gabriella frowned.

Tate looked at Dewdrop. He shook his head at her, saying wordlessly that he didn’t see what she did either.

“It’s right there.” Tate pointed to the tiles again, tapping each one lightly.

There was a grinding sound and something shifted in the room.

There were several gasps from below and everyone froze as they waited for something to happen.

Tate turned. Jost and Danny’s hands had dropped to their belt and the blades they had hidden there. The duke’s guard had one hand on him and was eyeing the other people in the room with wariness.

Roslyn was crouched on the second level, looking around with wide, scared eyes.

The others, with the exception of Elijah, had stepped away from the altar and were eyeing it with a healthy dose of caution.

“Is everyone alright?” Jost asked loudly, waiting as everyone in the room confirmed their health.

“What was that?” Tala asked. She looked cool and unruffled, her eyes alert, and body perfectly balanced in case she needed to leap to safety.

“Did we trigger a trap?” Roslyn asked softly as she straightened from her crouch.

Elijah stepped closer to the white altar-like table in the middle of the room. It shifted again and then slid back, revealing a hole.

“It’s another room!” Josef said in excitement, darting away from the wall and running down the three levels to peer into the hole next to Elijah.

Tala looked at him with interest and stepped up beside him.

“We knew there had to be one. They only created these sorts of rooms when they were trying to hide something, but we had been unsuccessful finding the latch to open it,” Josef told Tala, a barely restrained excitement in his voice. He sounded like a child who had just been given the best present in the world.

Josef stood and rolled up his sleeves, grabbing the lamp from the floor where he’d set it.

“What are you doing?” Jost asked, his voice one of idle curiosity. Tate knew that tone. His curiosity was anything but idle.

“We need to explore. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“You show too much haste, human. There has been no decision made regarding who owns all this,” the Shodon said, his voice powerful as it echoed in the large space.

“Yes, if the mediator finds in the Silva’s favor we would not wish to disturb our dead any more than we already have.” Tala looked up from the hole to address Jost and Elijah.

“How can you ask us to cover this place up and forget?” Elijah asked. “This is the find of a lifetime. The people responsible for this discovery will be able to write their future. Their names will be in all of the history books. Our descendants will speak of us with pride.”

Elijah seemed genuinely flummoxed with the others desire not to explore.

“Do you think he realizes your name will be the one remembered since you’re technically the discoverer?” Dewdrop asked in a soft voice that only she and Gabriella could hear.

“Doubt it,” Gabriella said, not bothering to keep her voice soft. “These sorts aren’t good at sharing the credit. He’ll probably give his backers some song and dance about how he pointed his assistant on the right path.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Dewdrop muttered, seemingly disgusted at the thought.

Tate shrugged at him. She had no desire to see her name in the history books and the idea of having anything resembling her children and their descendants was completely foreign to her.

“You’re not interested in exploring down there?” Tate asked Gabriella.

The Silva woman looked at the hole with a longing expression before shrugging. “I will do as my doyenne feels is best.”

Tate sighed. That wasn’t what she’d asked but she’d let it go.

“And our ancestors will be dishonored because we’ve disturbed their final resting place,” Tala said in a sharp voice.

Elijah threw up his hands. “Again with this ridiculous assertion that your ancestors had anything to do with this place. Do you see any bodies?” He gestured wildly at the room around them. “Because I don’t. Not a single bone, piece of flesh or strand of hair to tell us that your ancestors were anywhere within a hundred miles of this place.”

Tala’s eyes were frosty as she stared down her nose at him. “You didn’t report this site for weeks. You would have had plenty of time to get rid of any bodies before allowing anyone to know what you had found.”

Uninterested in the conversation as it dissolved into a shouting match about paranoia and moral bankruptcy, Tate walked close to the hole and looked down into it. It was less a hole and more of a shaft with rungs carved into the stone. The bottom was cast in shadow and impossible to see. Whether it was leagues away or simply right beyond the light was impossible to say.

There was a smell to it. Dry and musty with the faintest odor of decay.

“Do you smell that?” Tate asked.

The smell was noticeable since the rest of the tunnels had none. At least none that stood out and made the owners of said noses cringe.

Tala’s other guard took a step forward and inhaled deeply, the sound much like the one Night made when he was parsing information. It was curious and made Tate wonder just how sensitive a Silva’s nose was.

“She’s right,” he said looking back at his lady. “There is the smell of death.”

Tate leaned back. That was a lot different than what she was picking up. Though admittedly her nose probably wasn’t nearly as sensitive as his.

“There’s no way you could smell that,” Elijah scoffed. “If there is anything dead down there, it would have been dead for centuries. In the climate controlled conditions of the tunnels the body would have mummified leaving no smell behind.”

“I withdraw my earlier objection,” Tala said. “I think it imperative for these discussions that we see what is down there for ourselves.”

The expression on Elijah’s face puzzled Tate since he was getting what he wanted, but now he looked almost like he wanted to object. Like he’d just thought of something.

“I now find myself most curious as well,” the Shodon said with a slight smile.

Elijah’s face hardened into stone.

Tate eyed the Shodon, not trusting that cryptic expression. The old man had something up his sleeve.

“There’s too many people. The room could be booby trapped,” Elijah said.

Jost and Tate shared a look. Neither trusted Elijah’s abrupt about face. At the same time, he brought up a valid point. Tate knew little about these places but more than one person had alluded to the possibility of traps.

She wanted to know what was down there, but she didn’t want to die doing it.

“I can go first,” Josef volunteered. “I’ve dealt with these traps before. I just need one other person to come with me as an extra set of eyes.” Josef looked thrilled at the prospect of going down there. As if his possible death by grisly means hadn’t even occurred to him.

“That isn’t a good idea. We have proper procedures that should be observed when a new room is discovered so that we don’t accidentally damage any prospective finds,” Elijah said, his eyes drilling holes in his assistant.

That assistant seemed blissfully unaware of the glare he was receiving. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this many times. I’ll be careful.”

“I can act as your second set of eyes,” Gabriella volunteered, looking at Tala for permission first.

After a long moment where Tala studied her guard, she inclined her head in a graceful nod. Gabriella’s face split with a smile, transforming it into a thing of beauty lit from within.

“No, we can’t let someone unfamiliar with this type of work down there. She could get herself and Josef killed. Worse, she could damage the room.”

Tate rolled her eyes. Yeah, because the room was the important piece in all this.

Tala’s voice had the bite of an arctic winter as she said, “My Ayer has extensive experience on these sorts of discoveries. She received instruction from the Ravin Academy in Sylvain.”

Elijah scoffed. “That place is full of frauds and incompetents who cut corners. I wouldn’t trust anyone who claims to have studied there.”

“Careful, that’s an insult to my people.”

Elijah sneered. “They’d have to understand what knowledge is to be insulted.”

Tate lifted an eyebrow. She supposed she shouldn’t have been too surprised at the blatant disrespect in his tone. He’d been dancing toward this since the dinner party.

“Enough, both of you.” Jost’s voice cracked through the space. “The Doyenne’s guard may accompany Elijah’s assistant down. If anything happens, you will both accept full responsibility.”

His tone was not the sort that you argued with. Both looked vaguely disgruntled at his command.

Josef raised a hand. “Excuse me, I’m the head researcher, not an assistant.” Jost glared at him, and his mouth slammed shut at Jost’s expression.

Tate sniggered, happy to not be on the receiving end for once. She tapped Josef on the shoulder and bent down. “You sure you can handle this?”

He nodded, his face looking determined. “I’ve studied every single room and the patterns that indicate a trap. I’m confident I can do this.”

“Wait, does this mean you’ve never been in the field like this before?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, busying himself with readying a few items that he pulled out of a pack.

“Josef?”

Gabriella slapped her on the back in reassurance. “Its fine, Tate. I’ve been on several of these expeditions before. It’s not my first time even if it happens to be his.”

Somehow Tate wasn’t reassured.

The two disappeared into the shaft, moving slowly and carefully, with Josef testing each rung before trusting his weight to it. Tate bent over the shaft to watch them. She had the odd feeling that she should have gone with them. She was unused to sitting on the sidelines.

Dewdrop crouched next to her.

On the other hand, if she’d gone, Dewdrop would have insisted on going. Risks she was willing to take with her own life weren’t as easy to take with his.

“See anything,” Tate asked when the sound of movement stopped.

“Not much. We’re in a chamber,” Josef called back. “It’s big but very dark. Our lamps aren’t having much effect. I’m going to light a second one before we go any further.”

“This is not a good idea,” Elijah said, pacing on the other side of the opening while biting one nail. He was a lot more nervous than Tate would have credited someone with extensive experience with these expeditions as being.

“You’ve had your say and were outvoted,” Tala said without looking at them. By the way her guard was eyeing Elijah, it was clear the Silva didn’t have much respect for the man. Respected scholar or not.

Jost joined Tate where she crouched by the edge. He was no happier at having to remain up top than she was, used, as he was, to being in the thick of things. He, like her, had had to bow to another’s expertise and extensive experience. It still burned though.

And was surprisingly boring.

“Anything yet?” Tate wanted to get down there. Her curiosity was eating her alive. Even Ilith was a crouching presence in the back of her mind, interested in what secrets that room held. Ilith had been more alert ever since entering the octagonal space and Tate’s skin had been tingling since touching those tiles. It was a feeling she was beginning to associate to the moments leading up to a change.

She scratched at the skin. The feeling could also be a sign of danger.

“What is that?” Gabriella asked, her voice showing her stress. Her shout echoed up the shaft. “What is that?”

“What’s going on?” Jost asked.

“I don’t know.” Josef sounded panicked.

A growl echoed from below.

Chapter Fourteen

Tate shot forward, beating Jost to the ladder rungs by moments. Dewdrop leaned over, tucking a dagger into her belt loop before she was out of reach.

Tate placed her boots on the wall beside the ladder-like grooves, braced her back against the opposite wall, and then let herself slide down. Jost followed her lead. She caught herself at the last moment to keep from falling when the wall at her back disappeared.

She landed in a crouch, the dagger finding its way into her hand by habit.

Josef cowered against the wall as Gabriella loomed over him and roared. She struck the wall on either side of him, raking her claws down stone and leaving deep scratches.

“Gabriella, what are you doing?” Tate shouted, running forward and yanking Gabriella back without listening to Jost’s warning to stop.

There was a soft thud as Dewdrop landed behind them.

The woman swiped at Tate, her face twisted with rage and her lips pulled back, exposing a set of fangs worthy of putting Ilith’s mouthful to shame. Tate dodged the first swipe and blocked the second with her forearm, kicking forward with her other leg to try to interrupt the other woman’s stance.

Gabriella leapt nimbly out of the way before lunging at Tate, her momentum carrying Tate’s smaller frame to the ground. Tate landed on her back with the snarling, growling Silva on top.

Tate managed to keep Gabriella’s claws from raking across her face. A bright spot of pain opened up from shoulder to elbow, as her arm wasn’t so lucky. Tate punched Gabriella in the face.

She threw her weight up, forcing Gabriella to roll onto her back. Josef and Jost yelled something, but Tate was too busy protecting her eyes from Gabriella’s claws to pay attention.

Tate landed two blows to Gabriella’s kidneys before the woman bucked her off. Tate leapt back. Dewdrop came to her side and let out a piercing scream, startling those in the room.

Everyone, including Gabriella and Tate, covered their ears at the painful sound. Dewdrop was a banshee, a descendant of some ancestor who’d crawled out of Aurelia’s tunnels after waking up from a long sleep. The Creators were probably responsible for his abilities. His scream could literally rupture eardrums, and if he really wanted to, he could cause internal bleeding and liquefy organs.

His scream had the intended effect—forcing Gabriella to pause long enough to consider her actions.

“What is going on down here?” Jost demanded. “This is a serious breach of the agreement. I can have your entire people blacklisted from this site.”

Dewdrop pressed a scrap of cloth he’d gotten from somewhere to Tate’s arm. Hard. She cringed. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the pain was more obvious.

Her jaw felt sore and her arm had blood trickling down it. The Silva woman could fight. It was actually kind of liberating getting some of her pent-up energy out. Tate felt better for it even if she was now feeling some of her injuries. Ilith panted happily in the back of her mind, satisfied with the violence and the fact that Tate had acquitted herself well.

Ilith was already anticipating the next time they pitted themselves against the Silva. Tate ignored the mental plans Ilith was hatching. She’d have to avoid anybody who was Silva for a time after this. Otherwise, the dragon might do something drastic that could potentially end in Tate or another’s death.

“We won’t be the only ones to be thrown out of these talks,” Gabriella said in a bitter voice. She looked like someone had just come up and slapped her—angry and defensive, and wanting to respond in kind. “Look around. What these humans have done is much worse than anything I could have dreamed of doing.”

Tate looked at the rest of the room, able to take it in for the first time since she had dropped into the chamber.

She was slow to understand what had upset Gabriella at first. All she saw was a room filled with things. Things she didn’t understand. It was dim, the light of the glow lamp not doing much to illuminate a space that was easily twice the size of what was above them.

Then the scene clicked, something sliding into place in her mind. The bones strewn all over the room. Old bones, wrappings. What looked like a few skulls. The remains had not been treated carefully or kindly. Tate could tell at a glance that the bones had been thrown about in some places, mixed and discarded like inconvenient trash.

“They’re Silva,” Gabriella answered the questioning look Jost shot at her.

Tate drifted closer, crouching next to a haphazard pile. The bones weren’t from just one body but many. That was only evident because there were three femurs and four tibias in the pile.

“How do you know?” Tate asked.

“The skulls. You can see where the canines were. Also the bone density of a Silva is greater than that of a human or Kairi. We were made to be the shock troops of the creators, which meant a greater ability to withstand trauma and damage.”

“You got all that from a look?” Tate was impressed. She was so startled at the presence of bones that she hadn’t even begun to try to catalog the details. Now that Gabriella had pointed it out, she could see it was true.

“We don’t know how they got here,” Josef tried to reason, holding his hands out in a motion meant to calm. Gabriella didn’t look particularly calm. “They could have been placed here years ago. Centuries even. The history of this place is unknown.”

“I doubt that,” Tate said, rising from her crouch. “There are foot prints near this pile, and the dust looks like it was disturbed when someone threw these down here. Whoever did this, did it much more recently.”

“Same here,” Jost said, examining a pile a few feet away.

“That doesn’t mean the Academy is responsible,” Josef said, desperation in his voice. “We would never disturb ancestors in this way.”

Tate believed him. He didn’t seem like the sort who went after what he wanted at the expense of others. And, he’d been entirely too willing to come down here with Gabriella to have known what would be waiting for them.

That didn’t mean others on the expedition were as scrupulous.

After his initial excitement at the discovery of the chamber and the ladder leading down, Elijah had seemed the faintest bit unwilling to let the rest of the group down here. But that could just have been his unwillingness to let others have a piece of his find. Tate just didn’t know him well enough to be sure.

Tate ventured deeper into the room. There were at least ten skulls down here. Ten bodies. That didn’t even take into account the possibility that pieces of each body were missing. They could have parts to who knew how many more bodies.

“If these were the bodies from the tunnels, wouldn’t they be mummified?” Tate asked, stepping over a pile of yellowish bones. The conditions down here were perfect for it.

“Not necessarily,” Josef answered after a look at Gabriella, who stared around with numb disbelief. “The pre-empire Silva society would often leave their dead exposed to the elements until the bones were stripped of all flesh, before interring them in tombs or their ancestral tunnels.”

Explained things.

“You should be careful,” Josef told Tate. “We haven’t cleared this room. It’s possible there are still traps remaining.”

Tate paused, looking around. If someone had dumped the bones down here, they would most likely have triggered any possible traps. She should be safe as long as she didn’t go too far.

“I don’t understand how whoever did this would have gotten these down here,” Dewdrop said.

He stuck close to Tate as she moved through the room. In addition to the bones, there were artifacts—things that tugged at her memories, running fingers along her mind until her brain threatened to shake itself loose.

“No one from your team has discovered this place, right?”

Josef looked relieved at Dewdrop’s observation. “That’s right. Today was the first time we had any indication there was anything under the mosaic room.”

“Could have had a different entrance,” Jost said, holding his light up and indicating a tunnel that led out of the chamber. “Might not have known this was immediately below the mosaic room.”

“No, I’ve been all through the discovered tunnels. I’ve never seen a room like this.”

“Maybe someone discovered it while you were in the city and hid the entrance.” Tate paused and looked back at them.

Josef shook his head. “No. It still doesn’t explain the presence of the bones. I’ve been on this expedition since day one. There have never been any remains in this tunnel.”

“Well you missed something,” Gabriella said with a hint of a growl in her voice.

Josef sidestepped, keeping his back to the wall and Gabriella in view. His face was pale and his hands shaking.

Jost stepped between the two. “This isn’t helping. We don’t know enough to be pointing fingers.”

“We know,” she said. “We both know the only ones to gain by disposing of my brethren in a manner so at odds with the customs of any people of the Aurelian Empire are the Academics and their sort. Had their bones been found in the tunnels leading to the mosaic room, you would have immediately found in our favor. This isn’t the first time the Academy has tried to manipulate a discovery by wiping away traces of Silva presence.”

“Maybe if your people weren’t so stubborn and would let other people study sites touched by the Silva, my cohorts wouldn’t be so quick to tamper with discoveries like this,” Josef shot back.

“So you admit your people did this.”

Josef looked horrified and angry at her accusation. “No, of course not, but your people have made no secret that you’re willing to bury such things any time remains are discovered.”

“Our ancestors gave everything to break us away from the Creators so that they could be free from slavery; so their children would not be raised as monsters. They deserve to rest in peace and be treated with a little dignity—something the Academy has shown time and again they are incapable of.”

One of the odd shapes in the middle of the room caught Tate’s attention. She drifted closer, listening to their argument with half of her attention.

“You act like my people go out of their way to disrespect the ancestors. We have our own stories and our own ancestors who fought to protect us from the Creators’ madness.” Josef’s voice was passionate. “If your people were just willing to work with us, I’m sure much could be learned.”

Gabriella barked out a laugh. Even Tate could admit his argument fell on deaf ears when taking into account where they stood.

“You can’t look around this place and tell me about the respect your people show for the dead,” Gabriella sneered.

Blood dripped down Tate’s arm, leaving little drops on the stone beneath her. She grimaced and adjusted the rag. She needed something better to stop the bleeding.

There was a clicking sound and the stone under Tate’s foot pulsed.

“Um, everyone.”

“This was not done by us.” Josef’s voice rose to a shout.

“It was.”

“I don’t think that’s important right now.” Tate’s voice was strained. She was afraid to move her foot. There was a blue light flashing under it.

“It wasn’t.”

The blue light was flashing faster. Like a countdown.

“Enough,” Tate yelled.

Jost stepped toward her and she held out one hand, palm facing him. He came to a stop, his gaze falling to the blue radiating from Tate’s foot.

“I think I stepped on a trap.” Her voice had an eerie calmness to it.

“I told you not to venture into the room,” Josef said, his face was determined and on the edge of panic.

“I kind of wish I’d listened to you.” Tate edged back but froze when the light’s glow snaked out and started to rise.

Dewdrop made an inarticulate sound and started to step towards her. Tate shook her head.

“Go back to the ladder.”

“No.”

“Dewdrop.”

“No. I won’t.”

The blue, whatever it was, covered her boot and was steadily making its way up her pant leg.

“Dewdrop, get over here now,” Jost ordered. His voice brooked no argument. Tate breathed a sigh of relief when Dewdrop complied. Guess ordering pirates around on a ship had given Jost the ability to order stubborn youths to do his bidding without question.

“What do we do?” Jost asked, tension in his voice. “Will the shirt stop the magic?”

Tate felt a spurt of hope. She’d forgotten that it was supposed to protect her from some of these traps.

Gabriella stepped closer, stopping well outside of the reach of the blue light creeping up Tate’s body. Josef was right behind her.

“I don’t think so. She’s beginning to turn to stone.”

Tate looked down, not seeing what they did. To her, her foot looked like it always did. Just covered in the blue light.

“Can we pull her away from it?” Jost asked.

Gabriella shook her head. “We’ll just get caught too. Once the process is finished, the stone breaks, dissolving, and the person disappears.”

“Do something,” Dewdrop shouted. “You’re the experts, aren’t you?”

“You don’t understand. Once a trap has been triggered the only thing we can do is wait it out. The ancients designed these to destroy their enemies.” Josef looked at Tate. “I’m sorry but there is nothing I can do.”

Tate exhaled shakily.

“How long does she have until whatever is happening is done?” Jost looked like he might explode at any second. His emotions contained, but barely.

“Minutes, I’d say.” Gabriella stood up, giving Tate an apologetic look.

“Since there’s nothing you can do, it’s best that you go back upstairs. We don’t know if this will trigger other traps. No need for anyone else to die unnecessarily.” Tate felt little fear. Just an odd kind of resignation. She would have thought the fear would be all-consuming. Instead, all she felt was calm. Her mind felt clear.

Josef nodded and headed back to the ladder.

Jost gave her a sharp nod and grabbed Dewdrop, dragging him behind him.

“No, I’m not going. Let me go.” Dewdrop flailed, trying to escape Jost’s grip.

Tate was grateful that Jost was getting Dewdrop out of danger. By now the light was to her waist. What the end result was, Tate didn’t know, but she didn’t want him witnessing it.

Gabriella was the last to head for the ladder, her face showing regret and guilt. Then she too was gone.

Tate took a deep breath. The light was to her chest. Energy was beginning to build in the room. Very like what Tate had felt when she tried to summon the fire elemental. Her hair crackled, lifting from her shoulders.

Ilith was crouched between Tate’s shoulder blades, her claws digging in. Tate felt the dragon’s fascination with the light. Oddly, she didn’t seem to fear it.

“Dewdrop, stop. Come back here,” Jost yelled.

Dewdrop pelted away from the ladder and across the room. His face filled with determination.

“No, go back.” Tate didn’t want to drag him down with her. Finally, the fear that had been missing before came. Not at the thought of her death but instead his.

Gabriella gave chase, her stride eating up ground as she darted after the younger boy.

She wasn’t going to be fast enough. Dewdrop was too close.

The light crept up to Tate’s shoulders; Ilith wrapped herself into an approximation of a necklace around Tate’s neck.

Dewdrop reached her just as the light finished consuming her. Gabriella reached out, grabbing Dewdrop just as he grabbed Tate’s arm.

A roaring filled the room—the energy cresting to a painful sensation that bit along Tate’s skin. Screams rose around her. The world jolted and then popped—blue filling everything and noise buzzing in her mind.

*

Tate hurt. A bone-deep ache. The kind that you got after a hard life when a storm rolls in and sets every injury you’ve ever had to twanging. That didn’t even include the headache that was currently pounding like a drum inside her skull.

She was standing. She blinked at the white room she found herself in.

The room glowed with a bluish white light and there were symbols in varying shades etched into the walls. Objects were hung in alcoves all along the walls and there were altar-like tables similar to those in the mosaic room.

She wasn’t alone.

Dewdrop, with Gabriella holding on to him, stood next to her, blank expressions on their faces.

Tate disengaged Dewdrop’s grip from her arm. She waved one hand in front of his eyes. No response. She did the same to Gabriella. Nothing there either.

They seemed to be fine otherwise. Tate decided to let them come out of their fugue on their own. If they came out of it.

She shook her head, forcing that thought away. No, she’d come out of it. No reason to assume they wouldn’t too. In the meantime, she could work on discovering a way out of here. They needed to rendezvous with Jost and the others.

She had a feeling that those they had left behind would be only too happy to use this incident to further their own agendas.

Her visual examination of the room yielded no apparent exit. The light the room cast was plenty to see by, which was a good thing considering all of the glow lamps had been left in that other room.

She ventured over to the walls, pressing against them every few feet in case one of them wasn’t completely solid. There were several white altar-like tables interspersed throughout the room, a couple had items on them. Tate ignored them for now, wanting to concentrate on finding a way out.

The room reminded her of the first time she met Ai. That room had walls capable of turning translucent and allowing people to venture through. How it worked, Tate had no idea. To her mind, solid matter was not something that could be turned on and off.

No luck this time. Every wall was as solid as a rock.

She looked back at Dewdrop and Gabriella. They remained motionless.

She moved on to the items tucked into the alcoves in the wall. Some of them looked similar to each other, while others varied in size and coloring. Some were metal. Others looked like wood or leather. Still others were made of a material Tate didn’t know how to classify.

Tate reached out and pulled a gray and white oblong cylinder off the wall. It lit up at her touch, glowing white lines eating away at the gray in geometric patterns. The cracks reminded Tate of an egg when a chick was trying to peck its way out. It was beautiful and odd.

Tate held onto it as she ventured to the next alcove. This one was different, made up of shelves filled with little trinkets.

On the bottom shelf there was a puddle of silver cloth. It looked like someone had taken molten metal and poured it into a pile. Tate’s hand hovered over it, drawn to it, yet she had the oddest feeling it was extremely dangerous.

A woman’s scream startled Tate and her hand dipped to touch the cloth.

Gabriella gasped for breath, her chest heaving frantically. Dewdrop’s banshee scream echoed in the room, a thunderclap of pain against Tate’s ears.

The cloth sparked and then slithered up Tate’s hand, wrapping itself around her arm, its appearance changing to that of metal chains. Tate yanked at it while she ran back to Dewdrop, but it refused to budge.

“Saviors’ curse it.” Tate gave up on the metal cloth. She clapped her hand over Dewdrop’s mouth, his scream vibrating against her hand. It cramped, the pain excruciating. “Dewdrop, calm down.”

Gabriella was hyperventilating next to her, but Tate couldn’t spare her any attention. Dewdrop and his scream that could kill—or at least seriously injure them—had to take precedence.

She shook him, using the hand over his mouth. “Enough. You’re safe. Stop screaming or I’m going to have to knock you out.”

Tate wasn’t even sure if she was yelling or speaking normally at this point. She was pretty sure his wail had done serious damage to her eardrums.

His eyes popped open. The sound stopped, leaving a ringing behind.

His words were muffled, but she thought she heard the word “Tate” in there.

She took her hand away slowly, prepared to clap it back over his mouth if he tried to scream again.

He looked at her for a moment. His face crumpled and he lunged at her, his arms squeezing her in a tight hug. His shoulders shook and her shirt grew wet. She patted him on the back, grateful he was alive.

Next to them, Gabriella seemed to get a hold of her breathing. Instead of great gasping intakes, her breaths were merely fast and punctuated with the occasional whine, like that of a dog scared of what came next.

“You’re both fine. We’re all fine.” Tate needed to believe it. Even if it wasn’t quite true.

“What happened? Where are we? Are we dead? How did we get here?” The questions came lightning fast, punctuated by Gabriella’s panting.

“No idea. To all of those questions.”

Gabriella finally calmed enough to look around—her eyes widening as she took in the room.

“What is this? I’ve never seen anything like it. Not in any of the sites currently being explored.”

“I have,” Tate said, her words grim. “Once.”

“Where?”

“Under Aurelia. We discovered it by accident.” At least it was an accident on her part. She suspected Ai, the little girl she had met in that room, had somehow orchestrated the whole thing for reasons only obvious to her.

“And this is similar?”

“Almost identical.”

Dewdrop drew back, his eyes worried. He knew the story of that room and that girl. Knew that Ai was dangerous. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this room was so similar to that one. That only left the question of whether it had a denizen like Ai.

Tate really hoped not. One creepy girl with no facial expressions was enough for her.

“I still don’t understand how we got here.”

Tate shrugged. Neither did she, but she chalked it up to magic or some invention by the Saviors.

Or the Creators, Ilith whispered in her mind.

Chills ran Tate’s back. That was a cheery thought.

“For now, let’s focus on getting out of here and back to the surface. We can figure out the how and why later when we’re safe.” And away from things that might kill them.

Gabriella nodded. Her panic from earlier seemed to have receded and the capable guard Tate had met was in her place.

Tate was relieved. She didn’t know if she’d be able to handle this problem by herself and having someone to help gave her hope.

“If we do get out of here, our names will go down in history for discovering this,” Gabriella said, looking around the room in awe. “I don’t think anyone’s ever uncovered a room with this many untouched and undamaged artifacts. People are going to be fighting over this place for centuries.”

“Great.” Tate gave her a strained smile. She didn’t care about getting her name in the history books. All she wanted was to get her and Dewdrop back to the surface safely.

Dewdrop shadowed her as they moved around the room, not letting her out of arm’s reach.

“I’m fine, Dewdrop,” Tate said for what felt like the hundredth time.

He nodded and gave her a strained smile like he did all the other times she’d made that assertion. “I know.”

“That means you don’t have to be my shadow.”

“I know.” Yet he didn’t waver from her side.

Tate sighed. “You want to talk about it?”

He shook his head and dropped his eyes. It was clear he had something to say but maybe now wasn’t the right time.

Fine by her. She had some stuff to say too. Starting with the next time she told him to do something, he was going to do it. Not fling himself into certain danger that was almost certainly going to get him killed. He’d gotten lucky this time. It was doubtful he’d be so lucky in the future.

That conversation could wait until they were safe. She had a feeling it was going to be loud. And long.

“This place seems familiar.” Tate stopped and looked around. Dewdrop did the same.

“What do you mean?” Gabriella asked. She’d wandered over to one of the alcoves and was examining the artifacts. Unlike Tate, she was being careful not to touch anything.

“I don’t know.” Something tugged at the back of Tate’s mind. Whispering to her. It was that feeling you got when there was something so obvious sitting right in front of you. A solution to a problem that your mind just hadn’t seemed to grasp yet.

“No, I feel it too,” Dewdrop said. “Like we’ve been here before.”

“That’s impossible. No one has been in a place like this. Ever.” Gabriella looked concerned for their mental well-being.

Dewdrop’s words made sense to Tate, and suddenly the thought that had been hiding was front and center in her brain. This place seemed familiar because it was. Only now, it was missing bones and dust.

“No, look around. We were just here. Take away the lights and the cleanliness. Add in a few piles of bone and this looks exactly like the chamber we discovered under the mosaic room.”

Gabriella scoffed. “Impossible.”

“No, she’s right,” Dewdrop said. “That’s why it felt so familiar. The dimensions of the room look exactly like that other one. The only difference is the alcoves.”

“We might have just missed those the first time. The light wasn’t exactly great, and we were a little distracted by the bones.”

Gabriella looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. “Maybe the makers just modeled this room after the other. It does seem very similar.”

Maybe, but Tate didn’t think so. Ai had already proven an ability to manipulate space. Folding pockets so you could get from point A to point B in seconds instead of hours. Why couldn’t this place have done the same? Create a mini space slightly out of sync with the real world. Similar to that of where elementals were thought to live.

Tate kept that thought to herself. She could examine it in more detail later.

“If this is set up as the same type of room, there should be a tunnel right there.” Dewdrop pointed to the opposite wall. He walked over and ran his hands along it. Solid rock greeted him.

That didn’t necessarily mean the tunnel wasn’t there. Ai had been able to manipulate walls and turn them malleable with simply a thought. No reason to think whoever had created this place hadn’t done the same.

“Wait, does anyone hear that?” Gabriella looked around.

Tate stopped and listened, not hearing whatever it was Gabriella had heard. Dewdrop turned away from the wall and looked around too.

He shook his head and shrugged. He hadn’t heard it either.

The three of them waited in silence.

There was a charge to the air, like what they had felt before the blue light had overtaken them and transported them here.

A dull roaring, like that of the ocean during a storm, filled the room. Under it was a high pitched sound that dipped and fell in repeated patterns.

Tate and Dewdrop backed away from the walls to the middle of the room. Gabriella echoed their movements on the other side.

Something was coming. Something that felt like fear and rage.

Tate could feel it on the air, as if the room itself was trying to warn them to get out.

“Was it like this in that other room?” Gabriella asked. She kept careful watch, eyes constantly scanning the room as she placed her back against Tate’s and Dewdrop’s.

“No. Not that I could recall.”

Ai was just there, between one moment and the next. A little girl who somehow knew Tate’s full name.

This—whatever this was—was calculated. Designed to inspire fear. It was working. The fear Tate had been missing before seemed to have saved itself for this moment. A gibbering mass of emotion that was making it hard to breathe.

Ilith rose in her consciousness, placing one paw on Tate’s mind and easing the fear back. Enough so she could think.

They needed to get out of this room. Right now they were trapped. Fish in a barrel.

“We need to get out.”

Tate left their circle. There had to be a way. There was always a way. This room hadn’t sprung into existence. It was no accident. Water and erosion didn’t create these smooth surfaces, which meant the room was man made. That meant there was an exit. Tate was willing to bet it was behind the wall Dewdrop had identified. They just needed to find a way to make it appear.

The white tables with their glass-like coating on top. Touching one had triggered something the last time she was in a room like this.

She placed her hand on one, pressing hard. Her gaze caught on the chains the cloth had turned into earlier. Now, it looked more like a tattoo of rhombuses and other geometric shapes circling her arm from wrist to elbow.

“What is that?” Dewdrop’s voice cracked as he backed toward Tate.

In the corner of the room, there was a whooshing sound, like sand spilling from a jar. This sand, however, was black and glinted in the light.

“We need to go.” Gabriella’s voice thrummed with stress. “Don’t let it touch you. It is a remnant of the Creators. It has the ability to mutate you into a monster.”

The black sand had the properties of a sinuous smoke, curling in and around itself as it crept across the floor toward them.

Tate ignored her panic, too intent on escaping whatever it was that was coming. The pressure and energy in the room had built to almost painful proportions. It felt like something was trying to squeeze her out of existence.

As she watched the altar-like table, one of the tattoo-like shapes bubbled out of her skin, the silver sliding down to where her hand pressed against the opaque glass. Silver filaments grew out of the disk and touched the glass, light cascading away from it in waves. It looked like a pebble dropped into a pond, sending ripples across the surface of the table.

Tate thought of exits and openings and the surface. She didn’t know if positive thinking would do anything, but her teachers in class had stressed visualization over and over. At this point, she was willing to try anything. Even with Ilith’s help, fear was beginning to overtake her.

Gabriella’s growls filled the room, growing ever louder until they were a chest thumping roar. Dewdrop pressed against Tate’s back with his, guarding her despite the shaking that rattled his frame.

The sounds that had been broken and disjointed before, coalesced into shouted words. “Get out. Get out. Get out.”

“Come on. Come on.” Please work.

Shapes appeared on the surface. No, letters.

Access Granted.

There was a hiss. One side of the room went mostly transparent, showing a dark tunnel overlaying the wall.

“Gabriella, head for the tunnel,” Tate shouted.

She didn’t care where it led as long as it was away from here.

Gabriella didn’t hesitate, taking off at a sprint. She pierced the hazy place where the wall should be and appeared in the tunnel.

Tate grabbed Dewdrop and pushed him in front of her.

A boy with ratty, unwashed black hair covering his face, appeared right next to the wall. Purple eyes peered through the veil of hair.

Tate didn’t hesitate, shoving Dewdrop through the wall while placing herself between him and the boy.

“Thief,” the boy hissed, his voice sounding more like an animal’s than a person’s. “Thief.”

Tate didn’t respond, following Dewdrop through. There was weird charge to the wall and it clung like sticky sap. For a moment, she feared she wouldn’t make it—that she would be stuck forever in the wall. Then she was through and sprinting down the corridor after Gabriella and Dewdrop.

She chanced one glance back. The boy glared at her from his side of the wall. He mouthed, “Don’t come back, traitor.” Somehow Tate could understand the words even though she didn’t hear anything.

Then she turned and ran.

Chapter Fifteen

“We need to stop,” Dewdrop gasped. “I can’t run anymore.”

He staggered to a stop, using the wall to keep himself upright. Tate stumbled to a stop beside him. Her legs felt shaky and she was breathing hard.

Gabriella halted, pacing back to the two of them. She propped her hands on her hips and kept moving, walking the width of the corridor.

“We need to keep moving,” she said.

“Yes, but first we need to figure out where to go.” Tate forced herself to straighten, knowing that curling up would just make breathing harder. “If this place is even half as extensive as the tunnels under Aurelia, we could be wandering for days if not weeks. We don’t have supplies. We won’t survive long down here if we’re lost. Let’s get our bearing and then continue.”

Easier said than done. Tate’s sense of direction was all screwed up from being underground. She had no idea how to make it back to the surface, and unlike last time, she didn’t have a handy guide to help her.

“Any ideas?” Tate hoped someone had something.

“I don’t think we’ve been heading down,” Gabriella said, dropping her hands from her hips. “But we haven’t been heading up either. Best guess, we’ve been on one level.”

“What does that mean?”

“The makers of these places tended to build things in levels. Much like you build a ship or a building.”

“So if we were in an alternate version of the bone chamber, we would still be one level below the mosaic room.”

Good, they might be able to find their way back if they were only one floor below that.

“More likely, we were transported a few levels down. We’d have to find our way up to the explored levels to have any hope of finding our way back to the surface.”

Tate liked her own theory better. It meant they had a greater chance of finding their way to safety.

“We also have to make sure we don’t run into more traps,” Dewdrop said.

That would be ideal.

Tate didn’t know how they had been so lucky as to not trip any in the mad flight away from the room. They’d have to be more careful going forward.

“You’re the most experienced of us,” Tate told Gabriella. “Any ideas on how to avoid that?”

Gabriella’s face turned thoughtful. “The type of traps and their triggers really depend on who created the tunnels.”

“Judging by the bones, I’d say there’s a good chance the Silva had something to do with these tunnels. Wouldn’t that mean they were created by the Saviors?” Tate asked. Jost would probably have her head for suggesting this place had ties to any of the groups before he’d made his final decision, but in Tate’s mind, that ship had sailed now that they were lost in this maze.

“Not necessarily. Many of the tunnels were repurposed many times throughout the ages. The time after the Saviors liberated the three peoples from the Creators was a dark time. We call it the Red Span because there were centuries of war. Entire generations were lost. Since the Creators’ offspring knew many of their secrets, they could use the tunnels the way they needed to. Hard to say whether this place originated from the Saviors or the Creators. That doesn’t even take into account traps created after their rule.”

That was not what Tate wanted to hear. Unfortunately, things were rarely easy.

“What would be your best guess?” she asked.

“Hard to say. This side of the continent was considered a major strategic point. Both sides had strongholds here.”

Tate pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Since we can’t say for sure, tell us the main triggers that you’ve studied,” Dewdrop said.

Gabriella looked pensive. Her expression was unsure, and she looked uncomfortable to be in her position.

Tate could guess the reason. “Just do the best you can. Some knowledge at this point is better than none.”

“You realize I have no formal training.”

Dewdrop shrugged. “You’re what we’ve got. Besides, Tate likes to fly by the seat of her pants. This will just keep things interesting for her.”

Tate rolled her eyes at him, not that they could see it in the dim light cast by the egg artifact Tate had taken from the wall. The faint light was barely enough to see by, but it was enough so they wouldn’t trip over anything. Hopefully.

It was a good thing she’d grabbed it, otherwise they would have been trying to find their way by touch. Then they definitely would have tripped something.

“We call them traps, but that’s a bit of a misnomer. They work to deter people from investigating these sites, but there’s a common theory that they aren’t traps but rather things set up to validate someone’s right to be here. The thing is, over time and war, the key to most of these places were lost. You can imagine what would happen to someone who fails to input the right code.”

Tate could guess. At a time of war, you wouldn’t want just anyone wandering around your strong hold.

“Even then, we don’t think the traps were designed to kill but to simply detain. Unfortunately, over time they have warped so most are deadly.”

“What triggers them?” Dewdrop asked.

Gabriella shrugged. “Anything. Pressure, body heat, sound. They’re all different.”

“How do you explore the sites, then?” There had to be a way. Otherwise people would stay out.

“There’s a reason that people in this field of study have such a short career.”

Not helpful.

“For now, I’ll lead. Follow my steps closely.”

Tate frowned, not liking that Gabriella was going to take the brunt of the danger. It was a valid method, but Tate disliked letting someone sacrifice themselves for her safety.

“I’ve done this before,” Gabriella assured her, sensing Tate’s disquiet. “My sight and smell are better than yours, even considering the power your dragon gives you. I’ll have the best chance of detecting something before we trigger it.”

It was thin, but it might be their best chance for making it out.

Dewdrop touched her shoulder. “Time to let someone else take the risks for once.”

Tate’s sigh was more of a growl. “Fine. You lead; we’ll follow.”

For now.

Gabriella nodded, her face mostly in shadow from the dim light. She took the artifact from Tate. Within seconds the light had faded, leaving them in darkness.

“It’s not working.” Tate could hear a thump as Gabriella must have slammed it against her hand. “How did you get it to light up?”

Tate shrugged, forgetting that they couldn’t see her. “I don’t know. It just did.”

Something whacked her in the shoulder.

“Here, try again. I want to test something out.”

Tate grasped for the artifact that Gabriella was shoving into her. The light created fissures along the surface of it, illuminating the tunnel around them.

Gabriella’s face was much closer than Tate had expected. She jerked back in surprise.

“Fascinating,” Gabriella’s voice was hushed.

Tate swung the artifact and then tried to hand it back. Gabriella refused to take it, watching her as if she was a fish that had just learned how to speak. Even Dewdrop was considering her with an assessing gaze.

“What?”

“It’s an artifact.”

“I figured as much since it was discovered down here.”

“An artifact that only responds to you.”

Tate frowned. She glanced at the object.

“Come to think of it, it wasn’t until you touched the tiles in the mosaic room that the chamber beneath was accessible,” Gabriella said, thinking out loud.

Dewdrop’s silence was as loud as a shout. She could practically sense the thoughts that were flying through his mind. He was probably putting this together with what had happened the last time she’d been in tunnels like these.

“And the tunnel didn’t appear until you touched the table,” he said softly.

Tate’s shoulders jerked up in a shrug. “Coincidence.”

His gaze was sympathetic. He knew as well as she did it wasn’t coincidence. This meant something. You would think she’d be happy, considering it was another sign of her past. Instead it made her feel like even more of an oddity.

“Your family must be descended from one of the architects of this place,” Gabriella said.

Tate hoped not. She had a sneaking suspicion it was built by the Creators. The boy in the room had definitely seemed like something a Creator would dream up.

“Let’s not rush to any conclusions,” Tate said. “For all we know others could make this work. All it seems capable of right now is putting off a little light. Hardly an artifact worth protecting.”

“I couldn’t make it work.”

Tate shrugged. “There could be lots of explanations for that. Maybe it only works for humans.”

“You’re not human.”

“I am too.” There was a bit of outrage in Tate’s voice. “The dragon makes me no less human. In fact, I’d call it more of a human plus situation.”

Gabriella arched one eyebrow, which gave her face a monstrous cast in the odd light. “Let’s try your theory, then. Have your friend hold it.”

“That’s not an accurate test,” Dewdrop said. “I’m a banshee. I don’t think we quite qualify as human. Especially to the people who created that thing.”

Gabriella, even without being able to see her face well, gave off a vibe that said she wasn’t happy with that answer.

“This is a problem,” she said. “I can’t lead if I can’t see. Since you’re the only one who can make it work right now, it makes everything else difficult.”

“Then I’ll have to lead,” Tate said.

“We’ll lead together. I still say my senses are more likely to pick up on danger than yours.”

Tate shrugged.

They set off, Dewdrop following a few feet behind them, Tate and Gabriella shoulder to shoulder.

Now that their panic from earlier had faded, Tate was able to take in the tunnels. The faint light made it difficult to distinguish details, but these tunnels looked similar to those that had led them to the mosaic room.

Gabriella grabbed her arm, yanking her to a stop.

“What are-?” A hand landed over her mouth.

Dewdrop froze behind them.

A whisper against Tate’s ear. “Careful. I think we may be near a trap. It could be triggered by sound.”

Tate nodded once. Gabriella’s hand slid away.

“What do you suggest we do?” she whispered, remaining motionless.

There wasn’t anywhere to backtrack to. They’d come across no branches in the tunnel, just one long, unbroken line that jogged every few hundred feet.

“Let me think.”

Yes, Tate would let her do that while they stood here waiting to trigger what may or may not be a trap.

“We can’t go back,” Dewdrop said softly. “The chamber is the only thing back there.”

That left forward. Tate eyed the area in front of them. It seemed like an odd place to put a trap. It was just more of the same as what lay behind them. Unless it wasn’t. The chamber had already proven their senses could be fooled. Perhaps, what they saw wasn’t the only thing that was there.

Tate crouched and tapped the stone in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Gabriella hissed.

Tate ignored her and continued. At least two feet in front of them was clear of traps. Tate thought.

She took a breath and stepped forward. Gabriella clutched at her arm, trying to drag her back. Tate shook her off and waited. Nothing happened.

She let out a breath.

Gabriella stepped up beside her. “We’re still not safe.”

Something clicked and a sheet of green light coursed down the tunnel, tingeing everything with the color before running past them.

“You tripped something,” Gabriella shouted.

“Should we run?” Dewdrop asked.

“I don’t know.”

That was the problem. They didn’t know anything about this place, and Gabriella didn’t know as much about tunnels on this side of the continent as she did those found in her own land.

“Stay put for now. There might be other traps.” Gabriella sounded like she was trying to convince herself of the soundness of her plan.

The walls shimmered and suddenly they found themselves in a chamber with three tunnels branching off it.

“Are you seeing this?” Tate asked, looking around.

Gray stone blocks interspersed with metal sheets made up the room. Arches highlighted the entrance to each tunnel. Tate assumed the tunnel directly behind them was the one they’d just been in. Dewdrop stood right in front of it, only one or two steps into the room. Gabriella and Tate were a few feet ahead.

In the center of the room was a circle of inlaid stones with a sphere floating above it. There were channels and grooves on the floor, and on the sphere. Tate glanced up. The ceiling echoed the channels and grooves below.

Each tunnel, even the one they’d just exited, looked like an inky blot of darkness. Tate held her artifact up. Its light did nothing to penetrate the black.

“It’s hard to believe, but yes.” Gabriella looked around in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like this. If we die, it may just have been worth it. The tale of this will certainly put a stick in the Academy’s craw. They won’t believe us.”

“Was this the trap?” Tate asked.

“I don’t know. We triggered something, but I’ve never heard of this being the result. I’ve heard of the green light before. It usually causes severe burns to its victims.”

“How are you feeling?” Tate asked Dewdrop.

He held out his arms and turned, letting her see his entire body. “Burn free so far.”

“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

Tate took a step forward and was brought to a halt when Gabriella grabbed her arm. “Wait. We don’t know what else waits here.”

“We can’t go back,” Tate said. “The only way is forward and to do that we need to explore.”

The most interesting thing in the hexagon shaped room was the sphere floating in the middle of it. Tate had a feeling any traps would originate from there. That also meant it was probably their best bet in getting out of here.

She stepped closer to it, stopping at the deep groove that circled the sphere. A network of mini grooves ran in jagged lines from the edge of the circle to connect to another small circle directly under the sphere. She stepped over it, making sure not to step on one of the mini grooves and held her breath.

“You’re kind of crazy, you know that?” Gabriella said.

“Oh yes,” Dewdrop responded. “We are well aware, but it’s the kind of crazy that usually works out in the end.”

“And you follow her willingly?”

“I’d take her crazy over the self-interest and self-involvement of others every time.”

Tate ignored the discussion behind her, examining the sphere. She couldn’t figure out how it was just floating in space with nothing to support its weight. It should have been impossible.

Ilith shifted around her neck. Tate’s hand was suddenly on the sphere.

“What are you doing?” Gabriella sounded out of sorts and like she really wanted to tackle Tate to keep her from doing anything else.

It was a good question. One Tate didn’t have the answer to.

“Ilith, what was that?” Tate muttered under her breath.

The dragon’s tail thrashed but didn’t respond otherwise.

“You’re going to get us killed,” Tate hissed as softly as she could. She didn’t need Gabriella asking who she was talking to.

The sphere’s grooves lit up, blue running in a line, radiating away from where Tate’s hand was placed. Tate tried to take her hand back, hoping that would stop the light show. Her hand didn’t budge.

The grooves in the floor lit up. First the ones touching the circle before cascading into the rest of the floor.

Tate looked up. The ceiling was doing the same thing. Only every time the blue filled a circle, the circle began rotating. The next would rotate counter to the first.

“Maybe you should take your hand off the sphere,” Dewdrop said, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m trying. It’s not working.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have touched it to begin with,” Gabriella growled, sounding like a pissed off wolf.

“Thank you. I never would have figured that out without your help.”

The entire sphere was lit up now, every groove glowing with that blue light. Tate’s artifact pulsed in her hand, those same lines glowing with a white hot intensity.

Above the sphere, a globe of translucent blue appeared, rotating to mirror the spinning movement of the lines above. In the middle of the circle, white lines appeared. They were stacked on top of each other. White squares were randomly interspersed. A white dot pulsed in the middle of the globe.

“It’s a map,” Tate said.

“It just looks like a bunch of lines to me.” Gabriella tilted her head as if that would help her see what Tate was seeing.

It did on first glance look like lines. Maybe a design of some unknown nature. Tate’s memory for spatial features was pretty good. If she thought of the pulsing dot as their current location, she could see the three tunnels branching away from her. One of those tunnels led back to a square that rested just beneath another square. That could definitely be the chamber they’d just come from.

She touched the dot, trying to trace one of the lines back to a familiar part of the tunnels. Everything looped in on itself, making it indecipherable even with a map. The globe pulsed and zoomed in on that dot, blowing it and the surrounding area up.

“Whoa, how did you do that?”

Tate shrugged.

Gabriella touched the blue and yelped, yanking her hand back. The smell of burned flesh filled the air.

“Whatever this is, it’s coded to you,” she said, cradling her injured hand against her chest. Her voice was tight with pain.

“I think you’re right.”

“It will make an interesting case study if we survive. Even if you call a Savior ancestor, it’s still rare for a descendant to be able to bond with any of the ancient’s workings.” Gabriella’s smile was a touch wry. “I’d be careful around the Academics. They’ll put you to work waking up all of their old finds. You might find yourself spending the rest of your life in tunnels very like these.”

That was a cheery thought.

Tate planned to stay out of tunnels if possible from now on. Two was enough for her.

A scream echoed down the tunnel behind Dewdrop. They all turned to glance behind them.

“It might be pertinent to find the path out faster rather than slower,” Dewdrop said.

“I agree.” Tate turned back to the map, touching it to tighten focus or look at it from afar. “I can’t find the way back to where we started, but I think this way might lead to the ocean.”

All they needed to do was get above ground. They could walk to the nearest civilization from there.

“Which path?” Gabriella asked.

Tate studied it for a second longer. “That one, I think.”

She pointed to the one on the right.

“Good enough for me.” Gabriella headed in that direction, stepping carefully despite the sounds getting closer.

The sphere shut down, but stayed lit, Tate’s hand coming unstuck. She stared at the hand for a moment.

“Let’s go.” Dewdrop grabbed her arm and hurried her to where Gabriella was disappearing into the dark.

He went through the arch, Tate steps behind. The little boy of before appeared in front of her seconds before she crossed the arch. She couldn’t stop in time, stepping right through him as if he was a ghost. Chills raced up and down her spine.

I know who you are, a small voice hissed into her mind. I know what you are.

Tate landed on the other side of the arch and turned. Nothing but tunnel stretched behind her.

“Tate, are you coming?” Dewdrop asked from several steps away. Gabriella waited on the other side of him, watching her with a questioning gaze.

“Yeah. I’m coming.” Tate’s eyes searched the tunnel behind them before she turned and gave him a shaky smile. “Just wanted to make sure we weren’t being followed.”

He looked like he only half believed her. “Let’s go. Gabriella says she smells saltwater.”

She nodded. Dewdrop and Gabriella began making their way down the tunnel. Tate glance behind one last time before turning and following them.

Chapter Sixteen

Tate’s stomach was rumbling by the time the tunnel walls turned into rough rock and the passageway opened out on shallow salt water puddles. Time had lost all meaning below ground. Judging by her hunger, it was close to dinner.

Water marks above their heads made it clear that this tunnel entrance was under water during high tide. The need to be out of the tunnels by then made the three of them move faster. Tate sloshed through knee high water and tried not to think of the sea creatures that made their home in the shallows. She just hoped nothing poisonous or hungry got hold of her.

“I think this is it,” Gabriella said, her movements becoming quicker. In her haste, she stepped into a deeper portion and ended up in water up to her chest. She used her arms to wade through until she found shallower water.

She was right, the sky stretched over an ocean that reached to the horizon. Waves made it difficult to walk as they waded out of the tunnel.

Tate tripped over an object in the water, made invisible by the harsh shadows. She fell forward and caught herself on the wall.

“Are you alright?” Dewdrop asked from a few feet in front of her. He turned back and sloshed to her side.

“I’m fine. I just tripped over something.” Tate crouched down and lifted a wooden barrel. It was heavy and took a good bit of strength to force it all the way out of the water. Once she had, she saw why. A chain with an anchor was attached to the bottom of it.

Dewdrop and Tate looked at each other over the barrel.

“Looks like we aren’t the only ones to have discovered this cave,” Dewdrop said.

“I guess not.”

“What do you think is inside?”

“Let’s find out.” Tate pried open the lid, keeping the top out of the water as best she could. They peered inside.

“Bones?”

“And artifacts it looks like.” Tate drew a cylinder out. It looked bronze but had etchings all along the top.

“What would these be doing here?” Dewdrop asked the question they were both thinking.

“Are you two coming?” Gabriella called from the mouth of the cave.

“We’d better go,” Tate said, looking past Dewdrop to where Gabriella waited. “Let’s keep this find to ourselves for now.”

Dewdrop nodded and helped her replace the lid. She let the barrel sink until it was just barely above the water. She fished around at her feet. Rough stone met her fingers and she pulled coming up with a small pebble. On the wall next to them she made a straight line followed by two slashes. Hopefully the owners of the barrel wouldn’t notice her scribbles. It was the only way she could think to make sure she could find her way back to this exact spot.

Task complete, they sloshed their way to where Gabriella waited impatiently at the mouth of the cave.

The tide was out but they still had to move carefully through the water as they mirrored the coastline until they could wade to shore.

Tate collapsed onto the rocky shore, exhausted. Dewdrop fell onto the ground beside her. Only Gabriella remained standing, observing the land behind them.

“We’re probably a few miles north and east of the site. It shouldn’t take us more than a few hours to work our way back,” Gabriella told them.

Tate groaned. She was already tired.

“Can’t we rest for a few minutes?” Dewdrop asked on his back, one arm slung over his eyes.

The sun was steadily sinking on the horizon behind them. It would be dark before they found their way back to camp.

“Not unless you want to spend the night out here. We’re losing daylight. We need to make time while we can still see.”

Tate struggled to her feet and helped Dewdrop do the same.

“Do all Silva have your endurance?” Tate asked. She wanted to know so she could plan not to have them with her on her next mad scramble through dangerous terrain.

“We are known for having superior physical abilities over most humans and Kairi.”

Figured.

“However, I am considered one of the best specimens of physical ability in my own kind.”

“That’s just lovely,” Dewdrop said, sounding like he felt anything but. “We’re stuck on the journey from hell with someone who never gets tired. What’s next?”

“You know you’re not supposed to ask that,” Tate told him. “Now, we’re going to encounter something odd and probably deadly on our way back, and it’ll be all your fault.”

*

Despite Tate’s prediction they managed to avoid any more surprises on the way back to camp. It helped that they had Gabriella with them, who had an uncanny knack for finding the easiest way through the swamp.

They straggled into the Academic’s camp a few hours after dark. The light from Tate’s artifact worked just as well above ground as it had below.

Tate’s arm was one throbbing mass of pain by the time they reached the tents that were lit up with enough light to make it seem like the middle of day. The number of people had doubled since they’d been away.

All Tate wanted was to find a nice horizontal space to lay down. Her stomach rumbled. Maybe food, too.

“Halt,” a Silva man stepped from around a tree, a bow with arrow cocked pointing directly at them.

“Bane, watch where you point that thing. Otherwise I might need to teach you manners for your Ayer,” Gabriella said, arching one eyebrow.

Unlike Tate, who felt like she’d been dragged through the mud for about a hundred miles, Gabriella looked as fresh as she had when they’d gone into the tunnels. In her element. Cool and unconcerned, with every graceful movement hinting at a wildness just below the surface. Out here, away from the city, Tate could see that the trappings of civilization were just that. Trappings. This was where Gabriella and the rest of the Silva were most at home.

“Gabriella, you’re alive.” The man looked like he was seeing the ghost of his ancestors. More to the point, the arrow never wavered from them.

“Why wouldn’t I be? And Bane, drop the arrow or I’ll do it for you. Or do you not remember what happened the last time you pointed a weapon at me.”

The man finally pointed the bow and arrow at the ground. He looked no less dumbstruck at their presence. “Because the Academic’s assistant and the mediator said you fell afoul of one of the traps and were yanked out of existence.”

“And you believed them?” Gabriella placed her hands on her hips.

“They had convincing evidence.”

“As you can see, we’re all alive,” Tate said stepping forward. “Perhaps we can get food and rest instead of standing here talking.”

She wanted to ask why he was roaming the periphery of the camp with weapons and threatening physical force to those who ventured near but decided that could wait until she’d had food and sleep, and had talked to Jost.

Bane shared a glance with Gabriella. One full of meaning that Tate was too tired to try to decipher. “Of course, Witness. This way, please. Lord Dampier has not been himself since your disappearance.”

It took Tate a moment to figure out who he meant by Lord Dampier. She’d forgotten that was the title Jost had set up as his cover.

They were led to a tent that hadn’t been there when they’d come through earlier in the day. Many of the tents looked new. To accommodate the new arrivals? Why hadn’t they just gone back to the city?

The white canvas of the tent was rolled entirely up on one side leaving it open to the breeze. A mesh net kept bugs from eating the people inside alive.

“Mediator, your witness has returned,” Bane said.

Jost raised his head from where he was going over a set of papers on a table. He looked tired, his eyes bloodshot and his face worn.

“Tate.” His eyes held hers for a long moment.

Danny, whose back had been to them, whirled to face her. He crossed the room in large strides and swept Tate up into a bone crushing hug. “I can’t believe it. We thought you were dead.”

“Easy there, friend.” Tate pulled back and patted him on his wide shoulders. “As you can see, news of my painful demise was greatly exaggerated.”

“Not for lack of trying, though.” Dewdrop’s voice was tart. “Is that water?” He indicated the glass and carafe at Jost’s arm.

“Whiskey.”

“Close enough.” Dewdrop grabbed the glass and gulped down the liquid, coughing as it slid down. He poured another glass. “That burns.”

Jost took the glass from him before he could gulp that down. “This is too fine a vintage to be guzzling. I’ll call for some water to be brought in.”

“And food?” Tate asked, feeling hopeful. The grumbling in her stomach had long since turned into an empty hole that was eating her insides.

“And food.” Jost gestured at someone outside the tent.

Dewdrop helped himself to a seat, Tate not far behind. Gabriella stood at the entrance, looking unsure of what to do with herself.

“Please sit.” Jost gestured at a seat across from Tate. “I’m interested in what you all have to say about your adventure.”

Gabriella took a seat.

“What happened while we were gone?” Tate asked.

“You mean after the Academic assistant declared all of you dead?” Danny said, folding his arms across his chest.

“Dead?” That was new.

“Yes, dead. All three of you disappeared in that blue light.”

“So you automatically jumped to the assumption that we were dead?” That seemed a little presumptuous.

Jost nodded. “Josef said this has happened before. That it’s a common trap that leaves nothing of the person behind. Just turns you into stone before obliterating any physical proof that you were ever there.”

Tate made a hmph sound. In a way, she could see how it would seem like the light had destroyed them. Especially if you never saw any sign of the person again, which given the complexity of the tunnels was a possibility.

“They may need to revise that assessment. The light just transported us somewhere. It didn’t harm us at all.” Tate left out the part where Gabriella and Dewdrop had been frozen in place for a good long while. She also made sure her sleeves were down to cover the silver tattoo around her wrist that she had picked up in the chamber. “After that we simply had to find our way out of the tunnel system and then back to camp.”

She didn’t bother presenting her theory that they weren’t transported but rather called out of the time and place where Jost and Josef were. There was no way to prove it, and she’d rather not start this story off sounding crazy.

“You think this might be what happens to anyone who triggers a similar trap?” Gabriella asked.

Tate shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It’s hard to prove one way or another, but we’re still standing. I can’t think of a different scenario.”

Gabriella looked thoughtful as if she was mentally reframing some things she’d been sure she’d known.

Jost watched her with a pensive expression. He looked like he knew there was more that she wasn’t telling him, but he was willing to wait until they had privacy.

There was a commotion at the front of the tent and a voice called out, “You can’t go in there.”

Elijah, with Tala steps behind him, ducked into the tent. Tala froze at the sight of Gabriella, joy and relief on her face. Gabriella stood, rounding the table and rushing to the other woman. They embraced for a brief moment.

“You’re alive.”

“Yes. Somehow.”

“How is this possible?” Elijah looked like he wanted to deny the proof before his face.

Tate sat back as a man entered and set a plate of food in front of her, Dewdrop and the spot Gabriella had vacated. “What can I say, we’re just full of surprises.”

“No, that trap never leaves anyone living. We saw you turn to stone before disappearing.”

Tate paused with a bite of food in front of her mouth. “Things aren’t always as they appear, I guess.”

The food tasted so good on Tate’s empty belly. She took several bites in quick succession. Dewdrop wasn’t far behind, scarfing his down as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Which was an actual possibility. Tate had no idea how long they’d been down there. It could have been much longer than a few hours.

“How long were we gone?” she asked Jost.

“Almost twenty hours.”

Her fork clattered onto her plate. Dewdrop paused in his chewing.

“In light of the discovery in the chamber below the mosaic room and your supposed death, I closed the site to everyone.” Jost looked away from her, tapping his fingers against his glass. He looked uncomfortable at the admission.

“It was entirely unreasonable for you to declare this site off limits,” Elijah said. “You overstepped your bounds.”

“Indeed.” Tala’s agreement was a bit of a surprise. Gabriella appeared confused at it as well. “Since my ancestors were discovered tossed about like so much trash, it is only reasonable that the mediator finds in our favor. The Academics involved in this discovery should all be arrested and brought before a tribunal to be judged for their crimes against my ancestors.”

Tate took a sip of her water. It looked like a lot had happened in the time they had spent wandering the tunnels. No wonder Jost looked exhausted.

“That is absurd. You saw that place’s discovery just as well as I did,” Elijah said.

Josef ducked into the room, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of Tate and the rest. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise.

“There’s no way we could have stashed the remains in a room we didn’t even know existed,” Elijah continued, not paying his assistant any mind.

“So you say. All we have is your word that you didn’t know about that chamber’s existence.”

“Enough.” Jost stood. “You’ve been going round and round for hours. This can wait until the morning once we’ve all had time to rest. For now, remove your people from the perimeter. With your Ayer returned, you have no standing to declare a breach of faith and no ability to enforce it. As for you, be grateful you still have your head and your health. I can guarantee neither one would have been assured had the witness and her cohorts not returned safely.”

The last bit was aimed as a warning against Elijah, who inflated three times his size, like a whiffer mouse at the sign of a predator.

Neither one looked like they wanted to obey.

Jost’s voice lowered to a threatening tone. “Unless you want me to find in favor of the Kairi.”

An amused voice said from the shadows outside the tent. “That would be most advantageous for my people.”

The Shodon stepped into view flanked by one of his guards. His eyes slid over Gabriella and Dewdrop until they rested on Tate. He arched one eyebrow. Unlike the rest, he didn’t seem surprised to find her sitting there.

“I see you’ve come through your adventures intact.”

She lifted her glass to him, too busy chewing to reply.

“I’m sure you have quite a story to tell.”

One that would be easier if people didn’t keep finding their way in to interrupt the conversation.

“Let the witness rest for now,” he told the other two. “It is late and I, for one, wouldn’t mind finding my bed. This will all be here in the morning.”

Tala didn’t look happy to be taken to task by the Shodon. In a stilted voice, she said, “The Shodon is right. I apologize for my actions.”

“You’ll remove all of your people from the tunnels and surrounding area.” Jost’s tone brooked no argument.

Tala gave a resigned nod. “As you wish.”

“Good. For now, everyone will retire for the night. It is too dangerous to try to walk back to the road right now. You can head back in the morning.”

That worked for Tate. She doubted she would make it very far right now. With her stomach full, exhaustion tugged at her. Dewdrop looked even more tired. His head bobbed as they spoke.

Tala didn’t say goodbye before turning on her heel and leaving. Gabriella shot Tate an apologetic look before following her doyenne out of the tent. The Shodon graced them with a nod that Tate suspected was the closest he ever got to a bow before following Tala.

“I second this motion.” Tate grabbed the artifact from table and stood.

There was a hushed exclamation from Elijah. His eyes were fastened on the artifact Tate had forgotten as it suddenly glowed with jagged lights as she touched it. She really was tired. She would have preferred to keep that ability under wraps for a little longer.

“What is this?” For once all the ego was gone from his voice and it was near reverent as he gestured toward the object in her hands.

Tate looked at it. They all looked at it.

Dewdrop dropped his head into his hands and shook it. She thought he might have groaned but decided to ignore him.

“Ah, just something we ran across in the tunnels.” She couldn’t think of a good lie. That left the truth.

“It’s an artifact.”

“Is it?” Tate hefted it. “Huh?”

There was another groan from Dewdrop.

Even Jost seemed surprised and interested as he glanced from the item to Tate.

“It works,” Elijah said, stating the obvious.

“Not really. It just glows. Not much else. It does make a handy torch,” Tate said, trying to downplay the significance.

“That’s more than any of us have been able to do,” Josef said, pointing at it. “You were able to open the chamber and came back alive from something no person has ever survived. This means something.”

“It’s just coincidence. I’m sure anyone could have figured that out eventually.” She looked at Jost trying to tell him without words to help her out.

“Were the secret chamber and the boy you swore you saw there coincidence too?” Dewdrop asked from where his head was on the table. His words were muffled but not muffled enough.

Tate shot a glare at his bent head.

“A hidden chamber. A boy. There’s only one possibility.” Elijah’s eyes got even wider, excitement sparking inside them. He started talking to himself, as if the rest of them weren’t even there. “A minor god. I can’t believe it. This could explain so much.”

“It does beg the question whether minor gods exist in all the present sites. We’ve always discounted that theory because of lack of evidence, but this might give credence to it,” Josef said.

Dewdrop lifted his head, his eyes closed, as it turned in Tate’s direction. “Sorry, Tate. I’m really tired. I forgot.”

She didn’t respond, waiting for the Academics to wind down. Their discussion went on, the two of them bouncing ideas and theories. They fed off each other, their words tumbling over and around the other.

“No problem. It was bound to come out eventually.” Just not until she’d had a chance to process it and understand what it meant.

Jost raised his hands, gesturing for quiet. “Gentlemen. Enough. We’re all tired. Tate and her friend have had a long day. Let’s end this here for the night. I’m sure we can pick this up tomorrow.”

“Not if you award control of the site to either of those philistines. If they have their way much of this will pass to those who won’t be able to appreciate it.” Elijah’s voice made it plain what he thought of Tala and the Shodon. “Any gains we’ve made in understanding our ancestors and who they were and what they’ve built will be lost because of something as trivial as politics.”

“Would you rather we did things as we have in the past when discoveries such as this were marked by great battles? Where the victor was determined by brute strength?” Jost didn’t wait for an answer. “I haven’t made a decision in either direction. For now, it would be best to find your bed. Tate will be happy to share some of her experiences and any knowledge she’s gleaned with you tomorrow.”

Tate shot him a startled look. “She will?”

He gave her a look that said, ‘she will if she wants to go to sleep any time soon.’ Tate took his meaning and mustered a grimace that passed as a smile for the Academics.

Elijah and Josef grumbled but allowed themselves to be ushered out of the tent.

“Finally,” Tate said, collapsing back into her chair.

Jost held up a hand. “Wait.”

Tate sat up. What were they waiting for? Jost seemed to be listening. Tate did the same but couldn’t hear anything. Just the sounds that were normal for a night in a swamp. Bugs, and amphibians and other night life that she’d never encountered.

Danny ducked into the tent. “We’re alone.”

Jost nodded and turned back to Tate and Dewdrop. “This whole situation is a series of blunders that have cascaded into a problem of epic proportions.”

Tate lifted an eyebrow. He could say that again.

“The discovery in the chamber below the mosaic room has thrown everything off course.”

“How so?” Tate knew it didn’t look good to have the remains down there, but she didn’t think it was that impactful.

“We were supposed to find in the Academy’s favor. Everything’s changed with the discovery of those bones. Worse, their presence has the ability to set back Silva and Human relationships by decades.”

“How did we come to find in the Academy’s favor? None of the groups have presented compelling proof of their claim.” Tate looked between Jost and Danny. “Unless a lot more happened while we were gone than you’re telling me.”

Danny didn’t look very happy as Jost admitted. “It was always going to be in the Academy’s favor. They have the backing of the Duke of Spiritly and several other important figures in the empire.”

“I was under the impression that both the Shodon and Tala were considered equals to the Duke.”

Jost looked impatient. “They are but their claims were soft and both of them knew it. This was simply an attempt to make their grievances known.”

Tate frowned at him, not liking this admission. It felt like the entire thing had been staged. “Why are we even here, if you already knew which way you were going to decide?”

“Because the empire has to give the appearance of following its own rules even when that appearance is a farce. Both Tala and the Shodon suspect the way the vote is going to go. They’re using their objections as a bargaining tool. They’re hoping that the Academy will consent to allowing their historians and academics into the Academy to study.”

“I thought it was the Silva academies that wouldn’t allow other races to study there.”

Danny shook his head. “They only barred other races after the Academy in Aurelia made it clear that different species were not welcome within its doors.”

“By threatening to shut down the discovery, they’re hoping to force the Academy to recognize the contributions from the Silva and the Kairi.” Jost finished, rubbing his forehead before he dropped his hand and looked at Tate. The exhaustion was back in his face.

“And now you can’t find in the Academy’s favor?” Tate’s voice held a question. She still didn’t see how they had jumped from the remains to having this entire thing go overboard in a storm.

“No, the remains change everything. It means they automatically lay claim to any find that is derived from this site.”

“And that’s bad?” If it was in truth the Silva’s ancestors who built or maintained this place, then they should get control over what was done with the tunnels. Tate didn’t see what the problem was.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Besides upsetting a lot of powerful people and destroying the delicate balance that we’ve managed to achieve?”

Tate nodded.

“That’s it. That’s what will happen,” Danny said before Jost could respond.

“Where are the Kairi in all this?” Tate asked something had been bugging her for a while. Of the three, they seemed to have the weakest claim. Add that to the fact that the Shodon hadn’t pushed his agenda at all in the few times Tate had seen him. “They don’t strike me as being particularly cooperative with the Silva.”

Tate was basing that on the fact that the Kairi had given every indication in considering the Silva as little better than animals.

“We have no idea. This mediation was originally between the Silva and the Academy. The Kairi only filed a claim a day or so before talks began.”

“Things may not be as they appear,” Dewdrop said from where his head lay on his arm, proving he had been listening to them talk.

The three of them looked at him.

Tate nudged Dewdrop. “What do you mean?”

Dewdrop sat back, a red indent from the cloth of his shirt on his cheek. “Do you remember that cache in the tunnel leading to the ocean?”

Tate nodded. The barrel and its contents had definitely been odd but she wasn’t sure how it pertained to the current conversation.

“It’s a smuggler’s cache.”

Tate stared at him blankly. That was interesting but not exactly relevant.

Dewdrop rolled his eyes at her. “A smuggler’s cache that we found bones and artifacts in. Artifacts that looked nothing like what we saw in that hidden chamber with the boy.”

Tate got it. “You think someone placed the Silva remains to give their claim more credence. That way Jost would be forced to side with them.”

Dewdrop shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“It’s thin,” Jost said. He rubbed his chin, the stubble scraping against his hand. “We’d need proof, but it’s a definite possibility.”

“Where would we get proof? There’s dozens of smugglers around here, more if they operate out of Aurelia. We’d never be able to track them down.” As sound as the theory was, Tate had doubts they’ve ever be able to prove it. “It also doesn’t explain the dead Kairi or human from that first night.”

“Unless they overheard the plan to tweak things in the Silva’s favor,” Danny rumbled.

Tate shook her head. “I doubt Tala would be so foolish as to discuss something like that in public where her enemies might hear.”

“You never know, we’ve seen people do stupider things,” Dewdrop said.

True. They had. Tate leaned back in her chair. No, the theory just didn’t feel right. There were too many holes.

She rubbed her eyes, which felt like they’d had buckets of sand poured in them.

“For now, get some sleep. We can figure this out in the morning.” Jost stood, Danny following close behind him.

That worked for Tate. With the level of exhaustion she felt, she doubted she’d be able to find the right answer even if it walked up and tapped her on the shoulder.

“I’ll show you to where you two can sleep,” Danny said.

Tate and Dewdrop followed in his wake. They were only a tent over from Jost’s. Tate was grateful it didn’t require a lot of walking.

Once they were alone and lying in their separate cots, Dewdrop said, “Tate, I didn’t want to say this before in front of Jost, but I’ve seen that setup before.”

Tate closed her eyes, sleep already flitting along the edges.

She had too. It was a common smuggler’s trick, something Jost had used a time or two himself, but there was only one Night Lord who’d expressed interest in the tunnels. A Night Lord that had used threats to get Tate to tell him such a simple thing as who Jost seemed to be favoring.

“It’s Lucius. He and his people have used that setup before. Many times.” Dewdrop’s voice was hushed and soft, a whisper of sound in the dark.

Chapter Seventeen

Sharp words and the threat of violence woke Tate from the odd dream she was having. Something about a purple tentacle monster pulling one of the moons out of the sky. She jolted awake, making a startled sound.

She lay on her cot, staring up at the canvas above her and experienced the feeling of the world being out of sync. Like she wasn’t waking up in the same place she’d gone to sleep. It took a moment before the memories of the previous night came back to her.

She sat up and looked at the canvas to her right where the voices were coming from. The disturbance was becoming louder. There were several people shouting now.

Tate swung her legs to the ground and slumped forward, cradling her head in her hands. “Dewdrop.”

He grunted and scrunched in on himself. He pulled his blanket over his head, like a turtle seeking shelter in his shell.

“Dewdrop.”

His voice was a croak. “What?”

“We need to see what’s going on.” Tate’s voice wasn’t in much better shape than his. She was too tired for this. How long had she slept?

“You do it. Too tired.” His breathing deepened back into slumber.

She shot a wrathful glance at his still form. She huffed. Faster she got this done, the sooner she could go back to sleep.

She grabbed her boots before stumbling out of the tent. She held up a hand to shield her eyes and blinked rapidly at the early morning sun. Way too early for this.

Able to see clearly, she stomped in the direction of the commotion. Maybe she’d get lucky and Jost would have taken care of whatever idiot was waking up the whole camp by the time she got there.

Her legs protested the movement after their adventures of yesterday. She sighed. She needed to incorporate more exercise into her life. She’d thought the various forms she was already undertaking would be enough but apparently not from the soreness evident.

There were a pair of horses waiting on the edge of camp that weren’t there yesterday. In fact, Tate was pretty sure no horses had been at the camp as Jost had made everyone walk to the site’s location. What were they doing here now? And how did they get here?

Seeing two men clad all in black, including black cloaks with a silver tree embroidered on the back, Tate could guess whose horses those were.

What was the Black Order doing here?

Tate recognized Ward and her friend from the freezer. Judging by the anger on the faces of the Silva, the men had not been any more successful in making a good impression on them than they had on Tate.

“What’s going on?” Tate asked the first Silva man she reached.

He glared at her and moved away. Tate frowned as she watched him go, not used to having people literally walk in the other direction when she approached.

Something was up, and she was betting Jost was not going to be happy about it.

Tala stood behind Gabriella and Lennart as her guards argued fiercely with Ward. Her friend from the freezer looked like he was enjoying the discussion—an expression of smug glee on his face.

“What’s going on here?” Tate asked in her best authoritative voice. With Jost nowhere to be seen, it fell to her to figure things out. She really hated having to be responsible.

Ward’s gaze swung to her and he frowned. Her friend from the freezer straightened and gave her a smile full of innuendo.

“Well, well, look who’s here. The person at the heart of it all.”

“What are you talking about?” Tate asked him. She noted distantly the arrival of the Shodon and several of his people. The Duke of Spiritly and his guards weren’t far behind him, with Jost beside them.

“We’ve found the person responsible for the deaths of the Kairi and human and the poisoning of one Tatum Fisher, Dragon-Ridden.” Ward was matter of fact as he recited what he was there for. “As such, we are here to place one Tala Fireday under arrest.”

His words caused an immediate reaction in the Silva, several snarls and growls filling the air. Seigal’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword at his side. If he drew that thing, he’d be dead before it cleared the scabbard. By the way he froze with his hand on the pommel, he knew it too.

They were fools to only have brought two men to try to arrest the doyenne. Especially when a good number of her people were there to watch and interfere.

Tate narrowed her eyes. It was enough to make her question whether they had motives not immediately obvious. No, she decided, the two were pawns in a larger game.

“What proof do you have?” Jost asked, stepping up to the fray.

“Testimony from the poisoner.” Ward’s voice was cool, giving no evidence of his awareness of the danger his friend’s actions and his own words put him in.

“You can’t still think Bridgette had anything to do with this?” Gabriella burst out.

Bridgette? Oh, the woman who had served the tea. The one the Ward and Seigal had assumed was the poisoner simply because she fled before they could question her.

“We do,” Ward said, his hands clasped behind his back. “She admitted as much to us when we caught her on the road outside the city trying to head back to Silva lands.”

“That’s it?” Tate asked. “That’s hardly enough evidence to prove anything. For all we know, Bridgette was paid to say Tala ordered it.”

“I would think as the person whose life was almost lost, that you’d be grateful to us for finding those responsible.”

Tate jerked one shoulder up. “Sure, if you actually found the culpable party. I’m not convinced you’ve done that. All you have to point to her is a testimony possibly gained under duress and the fact she was trying to go home.”

“Tate,” Jost said softly. “Careful.”

Tate’s eyes flicked to him and then back to the men of the Black Order. She didn’t think so. They weren’t using her name to go on a witch hunt. If that was their motive for this, she’d take the investigation back.

“It doesn’t even make sense. Why would Tala poison me in her own house? She would know she’d be the first person blamed.”

Dewdrop, eyes half closed and hair sticking up all over the place, walked up to the group. He rubbed his head, causing his hair to stand even further on end.

“What’s going on?” he said around a yawn.

Nobody answered him.

Ward was too busy glaring at Tate and Jost. Tate didn’t care, ignoring the slight sneer on his face as she folded her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow in question.

“We also have the vial of poison recovered from Tala’s personal quarters and Bridgette’s added testimony of seeing Tala order her guards to carry out the murder of the Kairi and human.”

“The same witness who tried to poison the dragon?” Dewdrop pointed out. “She could just be saying whatever she needs to survive.”

Dewdrop had an excellent point. The death of Ithor and Ronald coupled with Tate’s poisoning would ensure a lifetime punishment in one of the work camps in the mines of the west. That was a pretty good reason to say whatever needed to avoid that place. Tate had heard horror stories from people who’d managed to survive their sentence.

“I’m sure you are well aware that her mental faculties aren’t such that she would easily come up with such an imaginative tale,” Ward said, giving Gabriella a side look.

Gabriella flushed, her mouth snapping closed. She’d told Tate herself that the Obeziku mind was simple—that of someone who never fully stepped into the harsh reality of growing up.

It was possible she was lying, but her mental status would make her a very sympathetic witness. Easily believed. It would be all too easy to take advantage of someone like that and turn that person into a tool to carry out some dastardly deed.

“What possible reason could I have for doing all this?” Tala asked, her voice filled with scorn.

Ward shrugged, the motion careless. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I have my proof. You’ll come with me to face judgment.”

The Silva closed ranks around Tala, facing Ward and Seigal with claws and blades. Jost ran forward, stepping between the Black Order and the Silva and holding his palms up facing both.

“By the Creator’s hairy balls, this is not good,” Danny muttered next to her.

“Why?”

“A situation like this is what we’ve been trying to avoid from the beginning. If the Silva spill the Order’s blood when they are acting under a writ of arrest, there will be dire consequences.”

“What kind of dire consequences?”

Danny’s face was grim as he watched Jost try to motion for everyone to calm down. It didn’t look like it was having a lot of effect.

“The kind that involves open war, retaliation. The possibilities go on and on.”

Not exactly what Tate had been hoping for when she came out to see what was going on. And to think, she’d thought they were just arguing about who was going to cook breakfast.

The men from the Black Order and the Silva looked like they were about to lunge at each other in a full out brawl. Jost, trapped in the middle, probably wouldn’t fare well.

The Shodon and the duke looked like they found the whole thing vaguely amusing.

“Dewdrop, if you please.”

“You’re going to owe me for this,” he said with a put upon sigh that was entirely for show.

“As long as I owe you, you’ll never be broke.”

He rolled his eyes at her as he moved in front of her and Danny. Tate covered her ears and leaned away from him. Danny, noticing her actions, followed suit with a questioning look.

A piercing wail spilled out of his mouth. The people cowered away, some falling to their knees as they covered their ears.

Dewdrop’s mouth closed and he gave Tate a sardonic look and gestured her forward with a flourish.

“So helpful,” she said as she stepped past him.

“Remember that the next time I steal your breakfast.”

“Not that helpful,” she tossed over her shoulder as she moved into the crowd. “Since I don’t really feel like starting the day with a side of bloodshed, I’m going to tell you how the next few minutes will go.” Tate walked between the Order and the Silva.

Jost pulled himself off the ground, looking spitting mad. He glared at both of the groups but let Tate continue.

“Tala, you and two of your guards are going to accompany these two idiots back to Aurelia.”

There was an outcry. Tate pointed at Dewdrop and they quieted again, shooting looks at the teenage boy, who looked even younger with a nasty case of bed head.

“As for you two.” Tate shot the two men in black a hard look, trying to impress upon them her nonexistent authority. “You’re going to accompany the Doyenne of Clan Fireday and treat her with all the respect you’d give any high ranking noblewoman in the Aurelian Empire. Since she is a high ranking noblewoman, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

Seeing the disgruntled disagreement on the face of her nemesis from the freezer, Tate gave both of them a razor sharp smile, letting Ilith through enough for them to see what the dragon would do if given half the chance.

“You’re going to take her back to Aurelia, and she is going to come to no harm. Do I make myself clear?”

She waited with bated breath.

Ward looked like he’d bit into something unpleasant as he stared at her for a long moment. Finally he jerked his head down in a sharp nod. His friend didn’t look happy, but he followed Ward’s lead.

“Good, because the Kairi Shodon and the Duke of Spiritly just witnessed this whole debacle. If she doesn’t arrive safely and in one piece, it’ll be you two facing charges before this is done.”

Seigal looked around as if just now realizing the situation in which he’d found himself. Ward’s eyes didn’t stray from Tate’s. He had an odd little smile that said he knew exactly what she’d done, and he’d find a way to repay her in kind.

“If it pleases you, we’ll take our prisoner now.”

Tate looked back at Tala, knowing that despite what she said, if the Silva woman didn’t want to go, they’d have a difficult time making her. If she resisted, it would mean bloodshed and a political clusterfuck that would send waves of repercussions for years to come.

Tala nodded, looking resigned and furious. She understood. Good. Tate just hoped these two men took her warning to heart. She wasn’t bluffing when she said bad things would happen if Tala ended up dead while under their care. It was still undetermined whether they or the organization they reported to would care. She hoped for all their sakes that they did.

Tala’s people gathered around her, saying their goodbyes.

Ward stepped up beside Tate. “You should be careful whose side you choose. Things are changing in Aurelia. It would be unwise to side with those that will soon be shown for what they really are.”

Tate arched an eyebrow, letting amusement tug at her face. “What about my actions said I was unsure of my choice? It’s already been made. Thanks for the advice but I’ll have to pass.”

He didn’t look happy to have his advice thrown back in his face.

Tala stepped forward, her two guards flanking her, and presented her wrists. She barely winced as the manacles were placed on them and tightened. Seigal jerked them, causing her to stumble and cry out. Several of Tala’s people growled, a few stepping forward in threat.

“Which part of treat her with respect did you not understand,” Tate said. “Do they educate your sort when you sign up or do they just take you from the worst parts of the city?”

“Listen here,” Seigal started.

Danny stepped forward, using his much greater size to intimidate. He didn’t say anything, merely stared down. That was threat enough and the man backed down.

“We will not warn you again,” Jost said, his eyes chilly. “Treat the Silva Doyenne with the care you’d show the Emperor or I will have you up on charges of insubordination.”

The man grumbled but was considerably gentler as he finished cuffing Tala.

When he approached the two guards who’d be accompanying Tala on the journey, Tate stepped between them. “Nope. They’re not under arrest. They’re her escort and as such will be making the journey manacle free.”

She gave them her nicest smile, one that didn’t even come close to warming the rest of her face.

“This is ridiculous,” he snapped. “They could decide to murder us on the way and then take her back to their territory where she won’t face justice.”

“You have about the same assurance that we have that you won’t try to kill our doyenne while she is mostly defenseless,” Gabriella said joining Tate. She was not one of the guards chosen to accompany Tala.

“Who are you?” the man’s eyes were insulting as they ran up and down Gabriella’s body.

She straightened, her smile cold and her eyes dark chips of amber. “The acting Doyenne until we can prove our lady’s innocence.”

That was a surprise. Gabriella’s promotion to the leader seemed odd, but what did Tate know of Silvan politics.

“Let’s go,” Ward said, before his friend could say anything else.

Tala and her guards were led to the horses. Since there were only two, they would have to walk while Ward and Seigal rode. Tate hoped there would be additional horses once they got to the main road. It was a long walk back to the capital.

Gabriella gave Tate a curt nod before she and the rest of her people dispersed to break up their camp so they could follow their doyenne back.

Jost paused at her side. “How sure are you that she isn’t responsible for what they’re accusing her of?”

Tate frowned, watching the trees where they had disappeared. “Anything is possible, but this doesn’t make sense. The death of Ithor, maybe. My poisoning? I doubt it.”

“Then you need to find a way to prove her innocent in front of the Black Order, and you need to do it fast. I’m supposed to make my decision today. I can’t delay much longer and right now any decision I make will result in massive political upheaval.”

“I have a theory,” Tate admitted. “But I’ll need to go back to Aurelia to prove it.”

“Do it. Quickly.”

“What will you be doing?” Tate asked.

His sigh was heavy. “Trying to keep them from killing each other. With her arrest, the Silva will be even more rabid to retain control of this site, and the Academics will use this as proof to support their case. I’ll try to delay things as long as possible, until you have what you need.”

Tate wasn’t sure which of their jobs was more distasteful or difficult.

He clapped her on the back. “Good luck.”

Tate had a feeling she was going to need it.

*

“Where are we going?” Dewdrop asked, hurrying along behind her.

“To see old friends.”

“I don’t remember you having friends in this area of the city,” Dewdrop said, looking around them.

He was not wrong. They were in the Lower. Not just any part, but the slums where law was more of an idea and less of a reality. This was where the Night Lords held the most sway and where walking more than a few feet while dressed in nice clothes without armed escort invited pickpockets or kidnapping.

Tate and Dewdrop had arrived in a carriage on the outskirts of the slums and walked inside. His face was still recognizable from the time he’d been a part of Lucius’s court. Tate hoped it would be enough to prevent them from having to deal with too many people looking to prey upon them.

She was pressed for time and didn’t want to have to deal with scaring the denizens away. She would have preferred to avoid the area, but it was one of the few shortcuts she knew to the catacombs. The only other access point she knew of was in the temple under the cliffs, but at this time of day there were entirely too many people about to slip unseen into the tunnels.

“They’re less friends and more uneasy acquaintances.”

Dewdrop shot a skeptical look at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. His expression turned to one of outrage. “You’re trying to see Lucius, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

“You are.” His voice dropped to a scathing whisper. “I can’t believe this. Do you know how dangerous he is?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“Why are you even going down there?” he burst out.

“You said it yourself, Lucius has something to do with all of this.”

“I said I ‘thought’ he might have something to do with this. ‘Thought’ being the most important part of that sentence. The barrel anchored in a cave is a common smugglers trick. I’m sure there’s a crew much closer to the site who operates that way.”

Tate took a deep breath, stopping and facing Dewdrop. He halted and turned towards her. “It’s more than a guess. Lucius Two and Blade stopped the carriage Night and I were in after I’d been poisoned. He had a lot of questions about the discovered tunnels and the politics around them.”

“And you didn’t tell me this sooner?” He turned and kicked a pile of trash.

“I meant to, but then other things happened.”

“Did they threaten you?”

“It wasn’t me they were threatening.” Tate’s eyes were sympathetic as his shoulders hunched and he avoided her gaze. She laid one hand on his shoulder. “They wanted something. You were just the stick they were willing to use to get it.”

“Was it blond Lucius or the brown haired Lucius?”

Tate paused. She’d forgotten that she never told him which was one and two. “The blond.”

He cursed. “He might seem nice, but if he made a threat he’d see it through to completion.”

That wasn’t a surprise. She’d gotten the same feeling from him.

“What he wanted was simple, and Jost has given me authority to play along. It cost us nothing and might have solved your situation temporarily.”

“No, that’s just what he wants you to think. All you’ve proven is that I can be used as a weapon to get you to do whatever he wants.” Dewdrop looked miserable.

Tate needed to fix this. Kids like him tended to disappear when they thought it might protect those they loved. He might run if he thought it would keep her and Night safe. She didn’t intend to let that happen.

“Won’t he be in for a surprise when he finds out otherwise?”

Dewdrop’s gaze jerked to hers. His smile was tentative when it came, but it released a knot Tate felt in her chest.

“This is still a bad idea,” he told her.

“Or a good one in disguise.” She turned and walked away.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s a bad one,” Dewdrop said, eyeing the man who had just stepped out of the shadows.

Blade’s black eyes were enigmatic as they rested on Tate and Dewdrop. He didn’t look surprised to see them. Figures slipped from the houses and windows until Tate and Dewdrop were surrounded.

“A welcoming party, how unexpected,” Tate said, looking around them. They were boxed in by men, each rougher looking than the last.

“Lucius has a network of pickpockets and thieves who watch this entrance,” Dewdrop said. “They probably went to warn him as soon as we set foot down here.”

“He’s always prepared, I’ll give him that.”

Misgivings were already beginning to crowd in on Tate. Maybe she should have listened to Dewdrop and gotten out while she could. It was too late now.

“Blade, so good of you to come and escort us to your master,” Tate said, pinning a cheerful smile on her face. There was no need for them to know how uneasy it made her to be greeted by a gang of roughs before they got anywhere near the entrance to the catacombs.

“I must say we were surprised to hear of your arrival,” he said. True to the name Tate had given him, blades were strapped to his belt, along his wrist and probably several other places that Tate couldn’t see. “I thought you were supposed to be at the excavation site for the next few days.”

She shrugged. “It got boring. Things happened. Thought I’d drop in on old friends.”

“We’re friends now?” He arched one eyebrow, his face looking vaguely amused. “Last time we spoke that was a term you refused to apply to us.”

That was true. She did go out of her way to explain how they were not friends since friends, at least in her definition of them, did not kidnap each other. That’s the sort of thing an enemy did. Or at least someone who had the potential to be an enemy. Not a friend.

“I decided that you had a point and were right in this one instance.”

“Uh huh. What is it that you want?”

“I need to see the Luciuses.”

He studied her, his head tilted as he thought.

“Come along. I suspect he will want to see you too.”

Blade turned his back and disappeared in the shadows from which he’d arrived. His friends faded back into the cracks, leaving Tate and Dewdrop standing in the street alone.

“Still think this is a good idea?” Dewdrop said.

Tate didn’t answer and ventured after Blade.

Chapter Eighteen

“Tate, you came.” Lucius Two stood and welcomed her with wide arms, pulling her into a hug before she could dodge. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Tate drew back and made a show of patting all of her pockets.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t have anything worth stealing,” he said with amusement in his voice. He sounded certain.

Did that mean he had tried to pick pocket her?

He was right. Her pockets, at least those in reach of his hands, were empty. She tended to stash things in her boot, experienced as she was in how easy it was for a pickpocket to liberate people of their possessions.

“And Daniel, our prodigal son. You’ve been missed.”

Dewdrop glared at the other man but didn’t respond. A statement like that from Tate would have seen all sorts of snarky responses.

“Have you come at long last to buy your way out?” Lucius asked.

Blade took up a position against the wall, leaning casually against it as he took out a blade and started cutting up a piece of fruit.

“You know I haven’t,” Dewdrop said. “That kind of money is only accumulated after a lifetime of jobs.”

“And your present lifestyle does not lend itself well to the type of work that would allow you to make this sort of money.” Lucius’s smile was lazy and self-satisfied. He looked like a cat all too pleased with itself.

“We haven’t come here to discuss Dewdrop’s present circumstances,” Tate said before Dewdrop could say anything else. She didn’t want to go too far down that road. She had a sense that all that waited in that direction were traps made up of honeyed words and threats veiled as silken promises.

“Oh? Why have you come?” Lucius looked mildly curious. “I don’t remember inviting you to call on me.”

The words were said in a mild tone of voice, but Tate could hear the threat under them. As a Night Lord, Lucius had a reputation to protect. He couldn’t be seen as being called to account like a puppet attached to strings. That meant he could very well make an example of them for daring intrude on his territory without invitation.

It was all a game. One with deadly consequences.

Tate studied him, her head tilting. She smiled. It was friendly and out of place given the situation. Lucius’s mask cracked as confusion peeked through.

“And here I thought we were friends. Friends call upon each other, especially when they have information to impart.”

Lucius looked interested. Tate thought he might, given his previous interest in this situation.

“Of course, friends. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Blade chuckled softly from his position against the wall. Tate ignored him.

She looked around the room. Where was the other Lucius? She had gotten the sense last time that he was the dominant one in this pair. She wanted him present before she started bargaining.

This room was different than the one she’d escaped from during their first encounter. Like the rest of the catacombs under Aurelia, it was built from the distinct black stone that abounded in the area. She knew if she laid her hand against it, it would be warm, like living flesh. It’s why she suspected that despite being underground she wasn’t freezing. The entire catacombs temperature never varied more than a few degrees no matter how hot or cold it was on the surface.

The room was welcoming for all that it was underground and made entirely of stone. If it weren’t for the lack of windows, Tate would have sworn they were in a wealthy merchant’s home in the Upper city.

The Lucius’s had an eye for quality and it showed here with their treasures spread out in opulent splendor.

“Where’s Lucius One?” Tate asked.

“One? Do you mean to tell me I’m not first in your affections?” Lucius said, pressing a hand against his chest. “I’m hurt and slightly insulted.”

“Don’t be. He’s One because I met him first.”

The playfulness dropped from him. “Fair enough. He’s not here. He’s out on business.”

Possibly in another set of tunnels very similar to these? Maybe retrieving his smuggler’s cache even as they spoke.

“His business wouldn’t happen to take him a few hours south of here would it?” Tate asked.

Lucius cocked his head. “That’s a very specific question.”

“I have a very specific reason for being here.”

“So you’re not just here to catch up with old friends.”

Tate kept a pleasant expression on her face. She was the one who’d started the friend’s thing as an excuse to be here. She couldn’t go back on that now.

“I have more than one reason for visiting,” she said.

“I thought so. Should we get down to business, then?” Lucius straightened and gestured with one hand at a couch across from him. Tate sat, Dewdrop taking up a position at her shoulder.

“You’re not going to sit?” Lucius asked as he leaned back in an armchair.

Dewdrop’s jaw tightened, and he gave him a defiant look.

“Dewdrop,” Tate said. She nodded at the seat next to her. He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before taking a seat.

“So well trained,” Lucius said, watching them with slumberous eyes. “Like a dog whose owner snaps her fingers. Too bad you couldn’t be so obedient when you were still part of the family.”

Dewdrop stiffened, his hands clenching into fists.

“Perhaps if his family had paid more attention when it mattered and not thrown him out like trash, he wouldn’t have had to find a new place to belong.” There was steel in Tate’s voice. He might have known Dewdrop longer, but Dewdrop was her friend now. No one would insult him in front of her.

Lucius’s gaze rose as he studied her with interest. She would guess he wasn’t used to people taking him to task. He and his friend by the same name had screwed up when they tossed Dewdrop out. Their loss was her gain.

“And there you were to pick up the pieces.”

“Someone had to,” Dewdrop said, raising his chin in defiance.

Lucius’ gaze lingered on Dewdrop as he fiddled with the rings on his hand, twisting them round and round.

Knowledge that he’d made a mistake when casting Dewdrop out was there in his face. Tate thought she saw a glimmer of regret even. She blinked and it was gone, leaving her to wonder if she’d imagined the look.

“We didn’t come here to discuss Dewdrop,” Tate inserted. She had a feeling they could go round and round on this subject. This wasn’t the place to discuss this. Not here in Lucius’s stronghold. If he decided to take back what he’d thrown away, there would be little Tate could do to stop him. He could order his men to kill her, and she’d be hard pressed to fight them off even with Ilith’s help.

“What did you come here for?” Lucius propped his head on one hand. Blade popped the last piece of fruit in his mouth, cleaned the dagger on his pants and then put it away before folding his arms over his chest, one hand resting near the blades at his waist.

“Information, of course.”

“I do believe you’ve got our relationship backwards. I come to you for information and as a result I leave Dewdrop alone even though he has yet to pay the wearguld. You don’t come to me for the same. Not without something to bargain with.”

Dewdrop shifted restlessly next to her. Tate laid her hand on his arm. She had no intention of using him as a bargaining chip.

“I think you’ll want to hear this,” she said.

Lucius studied her, noting the determined expression. He waved for her to continue.

“The Silva Doyenne, Tala, has been arrested for the murder of the Kairi man and the Academic, as well as my poisoning and attempted murder.” No reaction from Lucius or Blade. Each having all the expression of a wall. No matter, that very lack told Tate what she wanted to know.

“And I care why?”

“Because Tala’s your patron. She’s your inside woman, the one paying you to smuggle Silva bones into the find.”

“That’s a pretty big leap.”

“Not so big. The Silva need a way to establish a claim on the site. It’s too far outside their territory to claim ancestor rights and until yesterday there were no bones that could be tied back to them. That means they needed to create a link. What better way to do that than a group known for accepting jobs of a dubious nature for the right price.”

“There are many groups like that.”

“But only one whose Night Lord attempted to blackmail me for what I know.”

“Could be the bones you discovered were moved by the Academics to prevent anybody from usurping their claim.”

“I’m sure that was what you and Tala wanted everyone to believe. It might have worked if Dewdrop and I hadn’t discovered a smuggler’s cache in a cave connected to the tunnels.”

Lucius sat back, his hands tented in front of him as he studied Tate and Dewdrop.

“Again, there is nothing that ties this to me.”

Tate waved that away. “I don’t have to prove it was you, and frankly I don’t care who did it. Right now, I need information.”

“You’re trying to get Tala acquitted of this murder,” he said.

“Now who’s leaping to conclusions?”

“Why?” Lucius ignored her words, concentrating on the root of the matter.

“Because she didn’t do it,” Tate said. “And the people arresting her are a pair of incompetent nitwits using their position of power to intimidate others.”

“People are arrested every day for things they didn’t do. The Doyenne is a powerful woman. I’m sure even if she did kill those men and tried to poison you she will get away with minimal to no punishment. As for the pair of lack wits, there are even worse in far more powerful positions in our society.”

“I can’t do anything about them, but I can make a difference in this.”

“How idealistic.”

Tate smirked. “Hardly. You forget, whoever did this tried to kill me. If the investigation stops with the doyenne, that person or persons gets away. I find that unacceptable.”

“Revenge. A girl after my own heart.” Lucius’s fingers tapped the chair arm as he thought, his eyes staring into space.

Tate waited, muscles tense.

“Even if I confirmed that she smuggled bones into the tunnels to establish her people’s claim, it would do nothing to prove her innocence.”

“I know.”

“Then why come here.”

Now it was Tate’s turn to study him. How much did she share? How much was relevant?

“This is a puzzle. One that is only revealed as more and more of the picture comes to light. I need to know if she arranged to have those bones placed there so that other pieces can be put into perspective.”

Lucius sighed. “You are intent on causing trouble. Lucius One, as you call him, will not be happy about this.”

“You’ll help me?” Tate wanted to be clear.

“Yes, Tala arranged for us to help her.”

Tate knew it. Jost, at least, would be pleased to have this information confirmed.

“She is not the only one who has employed our services.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

He gave her a smug smile. “Hers is not the only money I accepted for services rendered.”

“Who else employed you?”

Lucius flicked a piece of flint off his pants. Tate wanted to shake him until the answers popped out. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“Why can you tell me about Tala but not this person?”

“Because we don’t know,” Blade said, coming to stand by Lucius. “They arranged the job with a dead drop. We never saw their faces; they never saw ours. It’s to prevent either of us fingering the other in case someone is caught.”

“But Tala didn’t use this method?” Tate asked.

“The Silva prefer to meet those they do business with face to face. Their honor demands it,” Lucius said. “That same honor keeps them from giving up their accomplices when arrested.”

Tate sat back. One part of the puzzle was solved, but it left gaping holes in the rest.

“Don’t fret, little dragon. I can’t tell you who employed me, but I can tell you what they wanted.”

Tate straightened.

“For a price.”

Of course. The most important piece of information came with a price tag attached to it.

She didn’t want to ask because she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to pay.

“What’s the price?” Dewdrop asked when Tate didn’t.

“Nothing as dire as either of you two are imagining.” Lucius snorted, seeming slightly insulted. “It’s rather painless. Just information, that thing that keeps the world spinning.”

And brings it to a crashing halt. That’s the thing about information. It could be your best friend, your savior, but it could also hoist you with your own rope. Too little and you make bad decisions. Too much in the wrong hands and everything could work against you.

“What is it that you want to know?”

Lucius leaned forward. “How did you come to find the smuggler’s cache? The only reason we knew about it is because the tunnels were once part of Tala’s people’s empire. They knew the back way in, but the Academics have yet to discover the warren under their mosaic room.”

Tate rubbed her fingers against the couch fabric, debating the merits of revealing how they’d come to use that exit from the tunnels. It seemed like a harmless enough thing to tell. “Quite by accident. We triggered one of the traps and were cut off from the exit. We had to find a new way out.”

“Trap? There should have been no traps in that room,” Blade said. “We had to make sure before our people put the bones in there.”

“Yes, it wouldn’t do if they had triggered something and ended up dead. It would have given the whole game away.”

Tate shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. You missed one. The trap transported us to another room, which meant we needed to find a way out. It just happened to lead to the cave with the cache.”

“What was in this room?”

Tate studied him. She’d like to keep the contents of that room secret. Especially from a known thief.

“Nothing,” Dewdrop said. “It was empty.”

“No artifacts? Perhaps something else?”

“Nope, nothing,” Tate lied.

She and Dewdrop waited as Lucius studied them, trying to decide if he believed them.

“That’s disappointing.” Lucius twirled one of his rings again. “Still, a deal is a deal. Our secret benefactor asked us to smuggle artifacts out of the tunnels.”

Made sense. Rob the place before anybody has a chance to take control of the tunnels.

“What’s more interesting, is we were paid double to smuggle different artifacts back in.”

Lucius eyes glinted and his lips curled into a satisfied smile as Tate sat forward.

“I thought that might catch your attention. Worth the price, no?”

It was. This news changed many things.

Lucius leaned forward. “Then perhaps this time tell me the truth of what was in that room.”

Dewdrop and Tate didn’t look at each other.

Tate opened mouth and shut it when Lucius lifted one hand and pointed at her.

“No lies. I can tell when someone is lying to me.”

She released a deep breath. “There were artifacts. Many displayed on walls or shelves like it was a weapon room. There was also a boy.” Tate clamped down on further words.

Lucius stroked his chin in thought, a frown tugging at his forehead. “That’s it?”

Tate nodded.

“Very well. You got what you came for. It’s time for you to leave.” To Blade, he said, “Show them to the intersection. They can find their way from there.”

Sounded good to Tate. She stood and stepped forward.

“Wait, we told you what you wanted to know.” Dewdrop sounded angry.

“Yes, but you lied first and the information you have is not that interesting. I will let you live, but it will be up to you to find your way out.”

He gestured towards Blade.

“Come on, Dewdrop. We’ll be fine.”

Dewdrop’s eyes were wide as he glanced at her, but he stood reluctantly and followed as she trailed behind Blade. It was a long walk before they reached an intersection of tunnels that had six different tunnels branching off it.

“This is it.” Blade stopped and gestured for them to continue. “You can choose any path but the one that leads back here. Good luck.”

They stepped into the intersection and observed their choices.

“You still think that we’ll be fine?” Dewdrop asked, eyeing the tunnels around them with a dour expression.

“You’re always such a pessimist. One of these has to lead back to the surface.”

“I prefer to think of it as being a realist.”

“That’s just another word for joy killer.”

“I like the phrase joy distributors instead.”

Tate paused in her observation of the tunnels and scrunched her nose in thought. “What does that even mean?”

He shrugged his bony shoulders. “We distribute joy in measurable doses once everybody is safe with no immediate threat of death or dismemberment.”

“So you’re the Black Order for joy.”

Dewdrop thought for a minute. “More like the Joy Order.”

“You realize that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Now who’s being the joy killer?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think we should take that tunnel.” She pointed to the one in the middle.

“Why that one?”

“Why not?”

“Of course, why not? It’s not like this decision could doom us or anything.”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Glad you’re on board.”

She headed toward that tunnel, doing a visual inspection for traps. Seeing none she stepped in and waited. Nothing happened. Worked for her.

“You realize I’m going to blame you if anything goes wrong,” he called after her.

She waved a hand in acknowledgement without turning around and set out. He grumbled as he followed.

Tate stopped.

“Why are you stopping?”

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he asked, looking around.

“That.” There was a high pitched buzzing that seemed to be growing louder.

He tilted his head as if doing so would allow him to capture the sound Tate said she heard.

“No, I’m not getting anything.”

“But it’s so loud.”

The volume increased, sending shafts of shooting pain into Tate’s head. Dewdrop cried out next to her, the sound drowned out by the buzzing. Tate clutched at her ears, losing her balance. Her brain was going to burst.

Dewdrop fell to his knees next to her. His head clutched in his hands. He screamed, his voice adding to the sound wracking her body. He staggered to his feet, blood seeping out of one ear, and then stumbled away, running back down the tunnels in the direction they’d just come from.

Two figures ran after him.

Tate clung to consciousness.

A pair of shoes appeared in front of her. It was a monumental effort to look up. It cost her as she felt herself fading into darkness.

Brown Eyes looked down at her.

“Well, hello there. It’s so good to see you again.”

Her eyes closed and the darkness rose up to swallow her.

Chapter Nineteen

The jolting of a wagon catapulted her out of sleep. Her head pounded with all of the fury of an enraged mother with a pregnant, unwed daughter. She groaned. How much did she have to drink last night?

The wagon hit another pot hole, sending fire to a spot behind her right eyeball. And why was she in a wagon?

“Ah, you’re awake,” a cheery voice said.

Wait, she knew that voice. She heard it sometimes in her nightmares.

Her eyes cracked open. That was a bad idea. Light made everything worse.

“You’re probably experiencing light sensitivity,” that insufferable voice said. “It’s a side effect of the berserker. It can scramble things up there for a little while.”

That was putting it mildly. She felt like she’d just finished a three month bender that should have left her six feet below the ground. Everything hurt. Even her hair.

“What did you do to me?” she moaned.

“I’ve already told you. Confusion and disorientation must be a side effect. I’ll have to speak with the designer again.” The voice sounded airy and dismissive. “As I’ve told you before, you’re experiencing side effects from the sonic berserker. I’m told it should pass fairly quickly.”

Tate didn’t think this was the type of thing to pass. She forced herself to sit up from where she was slumped against the seat. Contrary to what she’d originally thought, she wasn’t in a wagon but a carriage.

She cracked one eye open and moaned, swallowing the nausea that accompanied the onslaught of light. She could do this. Even if her insides were threatening to become her outsides.

It was several minutes before she could make sense of what she was seeing. To get the light to make orderly images that her mind could interpret.

Brown Eyes sat across from her, his head cocked as he watched her process her surroundings. She’d thought that part had been a hallucination. No such luck.

“Where’s Dewdrop?”

“Ah, your little friend.” Brown Eyes seemed all too pleased with the question. “There was a bit of a mishap.”

“What sort of mishap?” she asked through numb lips.

If he’d done anything to harm her friend, she’d kill him.

“He proved much more resistant to the berserker than we’d expected. He tried to run and had to be dealt with.”

Dealt with. Dealt with. The words repeated over and over in Tate’s mind as Brown Eyes chattered on.

“It’s quite fascinating really. I’ve theorized his Banshee traits make him naturally resistant to sound. They would almost have to be to withstand their natural abilities. Yes, their architect’s design is quite ingenious.”

Tate snapped. She lunged forward, getting one hand around his neck before the world shook itself apart.

She came to in an uncomfortable position on the floor, her legs and arms twisted in opposite directions. There was a crick in her back and neck.

Brown Eyes leaned over her, his shoulder length hair spilling towards Tate. “Are you back with me?”

She blinked slowly at him. Her mind seemed to be floating, disconnected from her body.

“I wouldn’t try that again.” He held up an arm with an intricate maze tattooed onto it. “I’m told that in the short term, the effect of this fades. However, repeated exposure can lead to brain damage, blindness, even death. I learned from our last encounter not to underestimate you.”

Tate tried to summon Ilith, counting on the dragon’s sheer destructive power. She reached, but the dragon wasn’t there. She could barely feel her in the corner of her mind, curled up into a ball that radiated pain.

“If you’re trying to summon the dragon, I wouldn’t bother. This neat little spell is designed with them in mind. Whatever pain you’re feeling, she’ll feel in triplicate. If she was to manifest, it would mean almost immediate death.”

Tate gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t cry. She was alone and in pain, but there was a way out of this. There was always a way out. She just had to find it. Wait for her opportunity and make him pay for Dewdrop.

“What do you want?” Good, she needed to get him talking. Find out what motivated him to see what she had to work with.

Brown eyes pursed his lips in thought. “Many things. The death of my enemies, the destruction of this farce of an empire, the rise of my gods.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Tate tried to sit up, not enjoying lying at his feet like something weak and easily destroyed. Her head threatened to split open. She settled back down. She would rest, gather her strength. Yes, that seemed like the best idea. She’d rest.

“You’re going to give me all that my heart desires.”

“Am I now?” He was crazy. Delusional from the sound of it.

“Yes.”

“I have news for you, but I’m not doing shit for you. Maybe next time you shouldn’t kill a person’s friend when you want something from them.”

“I think you will.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

He leaned forward, his brown eyes kind. “Because you have other friends. You care. It’s a weakness but a useful one.”

Tate struggled to sit up and was again forced back down by the pain in her body. It was less than the last time she’d tried.

“Why me? Why not someone else?”

“To begin with, you fit my particular set of requirements, and believe it or not, you have a stake in all this.” He parted one of the curtains, looking out the carriage window.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because I know the secret.” The last he said in a sing song voice.

“What secret?”

Tate fought against a wave of hopelessness. No one knew where she was. Jost wouldn’t even miss her for a day or two when she failed to report back. Night wouldn’t be looking for her since he assumed she was with Dewdrop and Jost. And Dewdrop. A pit opened up in her stomach. If Brown Eyes was to be believed, he was dead and wouldn’t be helping anyone ever again. She was alone with someone who was seriously unstable and had already shown an ability to kill.

“The secret of who you are.”

“I know who I am.”

“Do you, Tatum Allegra Winters?”

Tate forced herself up, ignoring the nausea and the way her body felt like it was about to pull apart. Panting she glared at him. “How do you know that name?”

He gave her a charming smile that did nothing to dim the craziness behind his eyes. “The same way I know a lot of things about you.”

Tate couldn’t help it. Her past was a mystery that continued to haunt. She was pulled in despite knowing she should ignore him.

“What things?”

He sat back, and tilted his chin down to give her a sidelong look. The coyness was at odds with his threatening manner of earlier. “Should I tell you or leave you to discover it on your own? So many choices.”

Tate curled her lip. “I bet you don’t know anything.”

“Oh.” His smile widened. He was itching to tell his secrets. Almost bouncing in his seat like a child.

Tate waited, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist for long.

“I know you’re not what you appear to be. A young girl just made into a Dragon-Ridden. Harmless and lost in a world beyond reckoning.” His expression turned perceptive. “When we both know, you and your dragon are older than almost anybody else in this world. You’re the reason they call it Dragon-Ridden.”

Tate’s jaw tightened as he sat back satisfied. She’d suspected as much. If she was like Night, one of the sleepers, it would mean she predated much of the modern world. The cylinder and set of tunnels she’d woken up in would suggest as much.

“Big secret. Tell me something I didn’t already know.”

He burst out laughing. It was the titter she’d heard when the Red Lady had hunted her through the catacombs. It had haunted her dreams for months.

“You do not disappoint,” he said. “I did a little digging after our last encounter. That spell should have yanked the dragon right from your flesh. It didn’t, why?”

Tate glared at him. She didn’t care why.

“I’ll tell you. It’s because you’re not like the rest of us. You are, shall we say, unique. A one of a kind existence that defies explanation.”

Tate waited for him to continue, but he trailed off, his focus turning inward.

He blinked, coming back to the present. “Where were we? Ah, right. You are one of the Saviors. An upstart meddler who set this world on its current path of insanity.”

His smile chilled Tate down to her bones, speaking of a kind cruelty and horrible things done in the name of good intentions.

Tate stared at him, nonplussed. This was a revelation she had not seen coming. Though, she probably should have given the crazy radiating off him. She’d thought he might actually know something. Not this, whatever this was.

“You don’t believe me.” His smile was sly. “That’s alright. It doesn’t change what is. Your very existence will help me achieve all of my goals.”

“How?”

“Both the Creators and Saviors were remarkable, capable of works that defy our understanding. The kind that could carry their civilization from world to world. Great feats of magic that make our paltry attempts seem like child’s play. The one thing they both had in common was a desire to see only their own kind benefit from those efforts.” Enthusiasm underscored his voice. He almost seemed like one of Tate’s teachers, passionate about the subject matter. His gaze turned to her. “That’s where you come in. You see, you're able to interact with both a construction built by a Savior and a spell derived from the Creators' branch of magic.

“That doesn’t seem that relevant,” Tate said.

She leaned back as he reached out and stroked her hair.

“Oh, but it is. In all of our history, we haven’t seen anybody even approaching the abilities that you display. It’s like every piece of history they left is keyed to you. You’re the missing link that can unlock and restore things to the way they were.”

“I won’t help you.” Even if he hadn’t hurt Dewdrop, she wouldn’t have helped him.

His smile was slow and sincere. “That’s the beauty of all this. I don’t need your cooperation. Your presence will be enough.”

She didn’t like the sound of that.

"How can I be a Savior and yet still be able to affect a creation of the Creators'?"

He shrugged. “Who knows? It works and that is all that I care about. For now. There will be plenty of time to discover more later, but if I had to guess it’s because you’re one of their creations. Their finest, I’d wager. A masterpiece of unparalleled beauty.”

“What does that mean?”

He sprang forward, his hand a collar around her throat pressing her back against the seat. Her heart leapt. “You were supposed to be their greatest creation. Their shining beacon to battle back the light.” He examined her closely. “Do you know the survival rate when a human melds with a dragon?”

Tate didn’t. That had been one of the things Ryu refused to discuss with her.

“Less than one in ten. So few can make the transition and it’s impossible to predict. A father might make it and yet his son dies at the first touch of the dragon’s mind. Age, family, mental strength, physical strength. No patterns emerge.”

He let go and took his seat again. Tate cradled her throat. The sides of it were sore where he had gripped her.

“Yet the dragon and human are more powerful than any other of their creations. Capable of beating back an Army by itself. What do you do when you can’t reliably get new stock to build your dragon army?”

Tate’s hand dropped as a terrible realization dawned. “You breed it.”

He touched his nose and pointed at her. “Always the smart one. It’s why they chose you. The best of the best. The brightest, the strongest, the most likely to survive. You and Ilith would have been prime breeding stock, ensuring that their greatest creation lived on.”

That was an ugly thought. Breeding stock, as if they were animals to be used to create better lines.

“Their only flaw in the design is that it took two souls and meshed them into one container. I imagine, they would have eventually gotten to the point where the dragon and human were so intertwined that they became one being. Pity that you were side lined before their plans could come to fruition.”

Tate forced herself to ask the question. “How do you know all this?”

She wanted to know where he was getting his information. Whether it was the ramblings of someone unstable or if it was part of a greater conspiracy. He’d used the plural pronoun ‘we’ several times now. Was it indicative of a larger group, or was the ‘we’ part of his imagination?

He studied her. There was intelligence behind his eyes. It made it difficult to discount all his ravings as that of a lunatic. Some of them had a strong basis in possibility, echoing thoughts Tate had entertained in the deepest part of night.

“Have you met the temple guardians yet?” he asked.

The question confused her. It took a moment to guess what he meant.

“The ones who keep up the temple to the Saviors?”

“Those are the ones.”

“Once,” she said. It had been an odd meeting. She’d gotten the sense that the guardian had recognized her despite his words to the contrary.

“They show the world that they are harmless, safeguarding the memories of the Saviors, keeping up with their teachings.”

That resonated with what Tate knew of them.

“It’s all lies of course. They do guard the memories, but the teachings they espouse are not the ones the Saviors followed. In many cases, they aren’t even a pale imitation. It’d be more accurate to say they tell the people what they think will make society cling to the status quo. Nothing about the truth.”

“Why do you say that?” It felt like the carriage was slowing. Wherever they were going they were going to be there soon.

“I was one of them. Once. Before I learned who they were and they punished me for it. That’s when I had my eyes opened. That’s when I saw that the monsters the Saviors had given us were really themselves. The Creators were their scapegoats; the boogey man upon which they assigned all blame.”

“They created slaves,” Tate said. “Twisted men and women into monsters until there was nothing good left.”

“Lies fed to us by the temple guardians and those who would have us close our eyes to the truth.”

“What is the truth?”

“They would have us believe the Creators were anything but power hungry monsters without a conscience. Did you know that when they first came to this world, it was a barren, desolate wasteland with little potential? They built a paradise and then stocked it with their greatest masterpieces, their favored children, who safeguarded the world their parents had built.”

“This was thousands of years ago. Their battles are done, both groups are long gone from this world. Why does any of this matter?” Tate leaned her head back against the carriage. There wasn’t much time left. She was so tired. Ilith still cowered in the back of her mind; there would be no help from that quarter.

The carriage stopped and the sound of movement came from outside.

“The past shapes the future still. For proof, you have yourself, risen from the grave. Someone who walked with legends. You tell me whether things are over and gone.”

The door opened and a man looked at Brown Eyes.

“Sir, we’re here and awaiting your orders.”

Brown Eyes smiled at Tate and then stepped outside. “Open it. My friend and I have business to attend to inside.”

The man gave a respectful bow and then set off, issuing orders to others as they stepped out of the carriage.

“Come, it’s time for you to meet your past and find your future.” He held out a hand to Tate, his expression welcoming.

She was forced to take it, her skin wanting to crawl away from the area where he touched her, but not wanting to give any sign of the deep disquiet she felt.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“You don’t recognize it?” he asked.

“No.”

She said that, but she realized the scenery looked a little familiar. Large trees against soggy ground. She bet if they walked a few feet into the forest they’d be knee deep in a swamp. They were close to the excavation site.

He turned and looked at the area. “It doesn’t look like much. Nothing to say what a momentous role this place will play in history.”

He led her into the forest, two guards falling in at her back to make sure she didn’t try to escape. Not that she could at the moment.

She wasn’t as bad off as when she’d woken up after her tangle with the berserker, but she wasn’t up to going into battle or running anywhere. Weakness invaded her body, stealing her energy. She still had a splitting headache and her ears were ringing. Not the kind of body she’d want to stress with an escape attempt unless she was in mortal and immediate peril.

The entrance was a short platform located in the middle of a cobblestone circle. Several of the cobblestones were missing or upended and covered in vines. There was enough of the entrance left that Tate could see what it might have been in its heyday.

Brown Eyes took Tate by the arm and shoved her in front of him. “Ladies first.” He leaned close. “Really it’s because I want you in front in case any traps are triggered.”

“You’re all kindness.” Tate eyed the gaping maw in the ground. She didn’t want to go down there, but it looked like she didn’t have a lot of choice.

*

“Looks like we’re finally here,” Brown Eyes said in excitement. He did a hop skip of celebration.

“Oh joy.”

The two guards from above had accompanied them down, not saying much even when Brown Eyes engaged them in one of the many tangents his mind went down during the time they’d been walking.

Voices came from around the next corner. Hope sparked.

The guards didn’t seem too bothered about company. They probably expected it, which meant that whoever was around the corner were going to be more enemies that Tate would have to outsmart when she made her escape.

“You’re late,” Elijah snapped as soon as they stepped into the chamber that had been discovered under the mosaic room.

“I am not. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be at the correct time,” Brown Eyes said with offended calmness.

“You said you’d be here three hours ago.”

“Time is relative. This is the right time by the simple fact that I am here.”

“Your tardiness could put everything in jeopardy.” Elijah stepped closer. “The mediator has called for a full inquiry. He’s bringing in some of the Empire’s investigative force. They’re going to discover everything.”

“No matter. Anything they find will be too late to make a difference.” Brown Eyes clasped his hands behind his back and rocked onto his toes.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know what that means,” Elijah said with exasperation.

“You’re working with him,” Tate said. She had thought the academic was too obsessed with securing a permanent place at the Academy to be involved with Brown Eyes. “You’re the one who has been paying the Night Lords to smuggle this site’s artifacts out to be replaced by replicas that don’t work.”

“Very good,” Elijah snapped. “Too bad that knowledge is utterly useless to you now.”

“Why? The mediation was probably going to be in your favor.”

“Do you know how many discoveries I’ve been a part of that have just been handed to whatever group, Kairi, Silva or human that claims Ancestor Rights?” He didn’t wait for Tate to answer. “Five. Five missed opportunities to take advantage of the gifts our ancients left us. When we do retain control, the empire confiscates the truly important finds and doles them out to their favored nobles as repayment for favors.”

“So you work with this guy? He won’t let you keep what you discover,” Tate said. “He’s a murderer and if he doesn’t kill you he’ll leave you to face the emperor’s justice. He won’t lift a hand to save you.”

“Hey,” Brown Eyes said with false indignity. He gave a roguish smile. “It’s only murder to the dead guy.”

“And every other person in society.”

Brown Eyes shrugged and moved away from Tate to examine the perimeter of the room.

“I know what you’re doing,” Elijah said. “It won’t work. Christopher is a visionary. He opened my eyes to what was going on.”

Christopher turned. “You hear that. Visionary.”

Tate wondered if there was a term to describe someone whose visions were inspired by nightmares.

“You keep telling yourself that. We’ll see who’s right in the end,” Tate said.

“I hope you haven’t called me down here to listen to you rant, Elijah,” the Duke of Spiritly said from behind Tate.

Elijah’s entire face changed, lighting up with a fawning devotion.

Tate turned to see the duke eyeing the room with the sort of suspicion usually reserved for known pickpockets when you have valuables on your person. Roslyn stood next to him looking confused and like she would like to be anywhere else.

“My lord, thank you for coming. I’m on the cusp of an amazing discovery. Something that I think will solve you and your family’s little problem.” The way he eyed Roslyn made it clear what he meant by that.

“Who are these people?” the Duke asked.

“My business associate.” Elijah gestured at Brown Eyes, known to his cohorts as Christopher. Such an unassuming name for someone who seemed one crazy dance away from evil. Christopher turned and waved. “And I believe you’ve already met the witness.”

“Father, what’s going on? Why are we down here?” Roslyn looked between her father and Elijah. The furrowed brow said she had an idea of what was happening but was hoping to be proven wrong.

“Let me take a stab at explaining this,” Tate said when the duke refused to look at his daughter and ignored her question. “Your father has been working with Elijah in the hope of getting access to a wider range of artifacts so that you, his daughter, could have a greater chance of bonding with one. How am I doing so far?”

“Those were some good guesses,” Christopher chirped as he skipped across the room.

“What is she doing here?” the Duke asked. He didn’t seem pleased by Tate’s presence or her insertion into events.

“I know this one.” Christopher grabbed Tate by the shoulders and thrust her forward. “Our little friend is the key upon which all things turn.”

The duke lifted an eyebrow, disdain dripping from him. “I did not agree to work with you on the basis of riddles. Answer my question plainly or I will take my men and resources and leave you to answer to the authorities.”

Tate should have saved her ‘he’s going to betray you and leave you to take the fall’ for the duke’s arrival.

“You can’t do that,” Elijah sputtered. “You’re just as culpable as I am. More, since it was your connections that made this possible.”

The smirk the duke gave him was full of cold arrogance. “And to whom do you think the emperor’s men are going to give the benefit of the doubt?”

“Roslyn, are you just going to stand there and let this happen?” Tate asked. Roslyn started, her gaze landing on Tate’s before flitting away like a bird trying to escape.

Christopher’s hands covered Tate’s mouth. “None of that, Savior. No stirring the seeds of rebellion.” To the duke, he said, “Let’s not be hasty. Our partnership is not at an end. It is simply being transformed. What we offer is better than some paltry trinket capable of parlor tricks. It is greater than that.”

“How?” The duke looked like he was considering Christopher’s words.

Christopher nuzzled Tate’s cheek. “We’re going to call the guardian of this place, and then we’re going to rip his power right out of him.”

“That’s not possible,” the Duke said. “The guardians are minor gods. It’s foolish to tangle with them. They have complete power in the places they protect.”

“Yes, they do. Now imagine if your daughter had that same power but was able to take it wherever she traveled.”

The duke’s focus turned inward. “Her family would be unstoppable.”

Christopher vibrated with excitement as he giggled. “Yes.”

Spiritly shook his head as if coming back to the real world. “That’s a nice thought, but it isn’t impossible. The guardian answers to no one. You can’t steal his power if you can’t summon him.”

“But we can,” Elijah said, a fanatical gleam in his eyes. “Someone here has already done so once.”

All eyes came to rest on Tate. Christopher giggled again and rocked Tate back and forth.

Chapter Twenty

“This woman can summon a guardian?” the Duke asked, skepticism in his voice. “Even those directly descended from the Saviors cannot summon one reliably.”

Tate agreed with him. Though she could have done without some of the scorn. That said, she was all for any doubt he wanted to cast on this insane plan.

The guardian of this place had looked wrong. Like the isolation of thousands of years had driven him insane. She didn’t think things would be quite as simple as Brown Eyes assumed.

“Let’s just say her connection is a little closer to the source,” Christopher said. He released Tate.

“How can you expect me to believe this? It’s impossible,” Spiritly said.

Christopher shrugged. “I don’t. I plan to show you.”

Spiritly cocked his head and folded his arms. “I’d like to see this.”

Tate watched Christopher prowl around the room. How did he plan to get her to summon the guardian? She wasn’t even sure how she summoned it the last time she got stuck in that room.

“Father, perhaps we should reconsider. There are other ways,” Roslyn said.

“We’ve already exhausted other options. You’ve failed at every turn.”

Roslyn’s face fell. “It’s not so bad, right? Not bonding with an artifact. You told me when I was younger that most are lucky if a wielder appears once in three generations. Maybe this just isn’t meant to be.”

“Not for our family. We are among the oldest. Our lines are the strongest. You will not shame us. You will bond with an artifact, even if I have to enslave a few guardians to make it happen,” he snapped.

“Suddenly, I’m glad not to remember any family,” Tate drawled. “If you’re what I have to look forward to, I think it’s better to go through this world alone.”

“That’s right, you have no one. Your ancestors are faceless shadows. There will be no one waiting for you on the other side. You don’t know the burden that comes with upholding centuries of family expectations. You’re a nobody who happens to have something we need. Once we have it, you’ll be cast aside with the rest of the trash.” The duke’s eyes burned into Tate’s as he recited his cutting remarks.

Tate whistled. “You really put me in my place. It’d hurt more if it was actually from someone I respected.”

The duke curled his lip and moved away. Roslyn drifted to stand beside her.

“Thank you, Tate.”

“Don’t thank me. Stand up for yourself.” If she really wanted to thank her, Roslyn would make a break for it and summon help.

“It’s not that easy. He’s my father.”

Tate closed her eyes, hard pressed to argue with Roslyn. What did she know of family? Nothing, because she couldn’t remember who they were. There was a black hole where those ties should have been. Maybe she just wasn’t capable of understanding the difficulties such ties presented or how tightly they could bind you.

“You know, I don’t remember much about who I was, but I like to think that the relationships I’ve made since then mean something. Your family doesn’t have to define you. I’ve made my own family and our ties are just as strong as any drawn from blood.”

Roslyn’s eyes were sad as she stared across the room at her father. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been proud to be a Spiritly, descended from the Savior Jaxon Kuno. My family is full of heroes that have made sacrifices to protect their people. I was one of them. Their blood runs through me. It was supposed to make me great too.”

“There are many paths to greatness. It isn’t an either or. It’s more than bonding with some artifact. It’s what you do and what you stand for. Seems to me that enslaving a guardian, one the Saviors left behind to protect their knowledge, goes against the very principles that your forefathers stood for.”

Roslyn looked away, lines bracketing her mouth and eyes. Tate let it go, knowing that she could talk until she had no breath in her body, and it wouldn’t make a difference. Roslyn had to come to the realization that she was more than just her family on her own.

Tate watched Elijah and the duke consult. Elijah and Christopher had drawn a circle filled with runes on the ground.

The last time she had encountered one of Brown Eyes’ circles she hadn’t known what they meant. Now she could interpret some of the looped lines and interlocking shapes from things Daiske had struggled to teach her. She wished she’d retained more of that information and not gotten so frustrated when she failed to meet with success.

The two outer circles intersected in several place. A third inner circle was there for protection and to lock things inside. She was willing to bet the four symbols drawn around the circle were at the corresponding points for North, South, East and West. She didn’t recognize the ones around the rim of the inner circle. Those hadn’t been covered in Daiske’s class.

“Now, all that’s left is the guardian,” Christopher said, tossing his piece of chalk in the air.

“This is it? This is how you plan to immobilize the guardian so you can steal his essence?” The duke stepped closer, crouching and reaching for one of the chalk lines.

“Ah, ah.” Christopher caught his hand before he could touch the symbol. “Let’s not touch. We wouldn’t want to accidentally wipe away a mark. It could be world ending you know.”

The duke withdrew his hand, eyeing the construct with a thoughtful look. “Now what?”

Christopher turned to Tate. “Now we put our little helper to work.”

The guards grabbed Tate and marched her into the center of the construct, leaving her there and retreating across the lines. She started to follow. Christopher held up an oblong device. Tate stopped.

“Good girl. This won’t kill you, but I’m told it might maim you if used with the highest intensity. Just listen and this will all be over shortly.”

Tate settled back.

“I knew we’d make a good team.” Christopher lowered the weapon. He bent and placed his hands against the ground just outside of his rendering, a golden light washing over his eyes, turning them into beams of fire. He said a word. One that made Tate’s bones ache and thrummed in her veins. The construct glowed with the same golden light for a brief moment before going dark.

“Hm.” Christopher eyed the circle with a frown.

“Problem?” the Duke asked. He seemed oddly disinterested for someone who was betting the honor of his family on this working.

“Just a small hiccup.” Christopher went back to staring at the circle. “That should have dropped us into the Guardian’s world.”

Tate watched Christopher as he puttered around the circle, talking to himself.

“One thing I can’t figure out,” Tate said.

“What’s that, my dear?”

“Why poison me if you needed me?” She still didn’t understand that.

“Ah that.” Christopher bent closer to one of the lines and added another symbol. “I saw an opportunity and took it. That was before I knew just how valuable you were.”

Ilith stirred, her voice weak. Why haven’t you gotten us out of this yet?

I’m working on it, Tate thought back silently.

Ilith grumbled and settled down.

“And Ithor and Ronald, were they a chance opportunity too?”

Christopher looked up, his face puzzled. “Who?”

“Ithor and Ronald, the Kairi and human you had killed during the first mediation talks.”

“No idea who you’re talking about.”

Elijah stepped forward as Christopher went back to adjusting the circle. “My lord had nothing to do with their deaths. Ronald was working with us. He had just found an artifact that would have made your participation unnecessary. If not for his death, we could have used the artifact he discovered to capture the guardian.” He gave Tate a smug look. “It was capable of yanking a dragon out of its bonded. We’d planned to have it tested out on you before we attempted to capture the guardian.”

Christopher paused in what he was doing and lifted his head, peering at Tate with a quizzical expression. “You wouldn’t happen to know where that artifact got to, would you?”

Tate glared at him. “How would I know?”

“Since a dragon killed them, I figured you would know what happened to the artifact. There’s no shame in it. They were planning to do the same to you.”

“A dragon didn’t kill them,” Tate said.

He arched an eyebrow. “Of course one did. How many people do you know with the strength to pin a full grown man to the side of a wall? Not to mention the claw marks on the Kairi man’s body.”

“The Silva could have done it,” the Duke said from his spot on the side.

Christopher shook his head. “The Kairi, yes. I doubt one of the Silva would have been able to kill the other man. He was alive when he went on that pole. Even their strongest couldn’t have hauled him out of that room while he was alive and kicking.” He gave Tate a distracted grin. “If you did happen to have that device, it would make things a lot easier on me. It might even spare you some unnecessary pain.”

Tate stared at Christopher with a remote expression, refusing to respond.

If he was right and that artifact was capable of yanking Ilith out of Tate, she owed whoever had killed those men a debt. She never would have seen Ithor coming and she could very well be dead right now if someone hadn’t killed him first.

“Ah, there it is.” Christopher balanced on one foot, careful not to smear any of the lines as he reached a foot inside the area and made an adjustment, adding a line to one of the runes so that it vaguely resembled an unclosed o. “I think that should do it.”

He went back to his position at the head of the circle and crouched down. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

He stood and flung something at Tate. She dodged but not quickly enough. It thumped her shoulder, the feeling very like that of being punched.

She looked down. A knife was embedded in her flesh, blood dripped onto the ground at her feet. She pressed against the wound but didn’t take the knife out. If it had hit an artery and she removed it, she’d bleed out in seconds. The knife needed to stay where it was until she could find someone skilled in battlefield medicine to remove it.

If she hadn’t moved when she did, the knife would have embedded itself in her heart. So much for Brown Eyes needing her alive.

He made a moue of disgust. “You were supposed to let that kill you.”

“So sorry to disappoint,” Tate said in a faint voice. She was getting dizzy. She sank to the ground before she could fall.

The lines around her glowed as her blood touched them. His eyes followed the path of the light as it ate into more and more of his lines, setting them to glowing.

“No matter, this works well enough.”

He knelt, saying that word that made Tate’s teeth ache and set her head to pounding again. She’d just gotten rid of the last headache, she lamented.

We’re being forced through a gate, Ilith hissed.

Tate cared, but only so much, more worried about the pain in her shoulder and the feeling of lethargy spilling up her limbs.

There was a woman’s scream as light flashed and pressure built in the room. It popped and they were suddenly somewhere else and yet in the same spot all at once. It felt like taking a half step sideways through the universe. Everything was the same and yet nothing was. They’d landed in the room Gabriella, Dewdrop and Tate had discovered when Tate had triggered the trap.

You bring the enemy of my enemy before me. A boy, younger than Dewdrop, stood beside Tate. His skin was mottled and bruised. His eyes set back in his head, bags under them. He was bony and his hair covered most of his face.

Tate tilted her head back to stare at him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t have much choice.”

“Saviors protect us,” the Duke whispered, staring at the boy with something greater than awe. “It worked.”

You are not welcome here. The boy’s lips did not move.

Roslyn touched her head. “I could hear him, but not with my ears. I don’t understand. How is this possible?”

“It is proof of the Guardian’s power,” Elijah said, his face alight with worship.

Tate had forgotten, or perhaps she never knew, how odd mindspeak would seem to the normal person. She’d gotten so used to it with Night and Ilith that it no longer impressed her.

You will pay for bringing them here, the boy told Tate.

He was there one minute and gone the next. A sheet of light flared in front of Christopher and the boy stumbled back, his body flickering in and out of existence.

“It worked,” Elijah said. “He is caught.”

The boy tilted his head back and screamed. Tate fell to the ground, the pain in her shoulder falling away as she cowered beside him. It was like the sonic berserker. Only worse. So much worse.

Tate could feel wetness on her cheeks, around her ears and falling from her nose.

The sound died as suddenly as it came. Tate rolled onto her back, the world fuzzy around its edges.

“Ilith, can you change?” Tate didn’t have enough left in her to keep the question silent.

Ilith’s answer was a long time coming. Tate knew it before Ilith spoke. No, we’re too weak.

Shit, damn and fuck. Tate pushed herself upright, almost choking as she coughed, hacking. She touched her lips and her fingers came away red. The Guardian, or whatever he was, had damaged something on the inside.

The boy turned into a ball of light and shoved himself against the edge of the circle, flattening before being pushed back.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Elijah stepped closer to where the boy took form and lifted one hand. “I’ve dreamed all my life of meeting one and here he stands. Just out of reach.”

“Pull down the circle and you can touch him,” Tate said as Elijah hovered outside.

The boy’s focus turned on Tate. This is your fault.

“Hardly. I’m just the bait they used to draw you here. I’m a bug on a pin just like you.”

They would never have found me if not for you.

“Whoever told you to make blood the key by which all this works? All they needed was to draw my blood and our fates were sealed. If you really didn’t want visitors, you should have required intention as well as blood to open up this room.”

His lips parted in a feral snarl.

Tate retreated as far as she could, her back brushing the outer edge of the circle. He wasn’t like Ai. Ai had been cold intelligence. Almost inhuman in the way she processed things. He was the opposite, a raging inferno of anger. Not rational and certainly not easily influenced.

Tate needed to get through to him if they had any hope of getting out of here alive.

“Do you have any ideas?” Tate whispered to Ilith.

He’s mad.

Thanks, but she’d already known that.

Stay out of his reach.

Not very helpful.

Tate crab walked away as the boy advanced in fits and starts, appearing and reappearing a few inches from where he’d last stood.

In Tate’s peripheral vision she noticed Christopher raising his arms and chanting, his eyes lit by fire.

“What is he doing?”

The boy turned and looked, his face twisting with rage.

He’s trying to sever my connection to this place. He’s using one of the Creator’s nasty little toys to do it.

“Is there a way to stop it?” Tate needed to get him to work with her or they were both doomed.

His face became calm as he studied the people on the other side of the circle, a glimpse of the almost alien intelligence that Tate associated with Ai shining through.

“Break. The. Circle.” The words were disjointed and filled with the whispers of voices from beyond this world.

How was she supposed to do that? She only knew the basics of how this thing was constructed.

Summon the fire elemental, Ilith whispered in her mind.

That could work. If she broke the circle like she had in Daiske’s class, she would at least have room to run.

It was worth a try. Tate sank deep into her mind as the boy built power in the small space. It pressed on Tate’s lungs, trying to compress and squeeze her out of existence. It was difficult to find the links, her mind glancing and crashing off sparks in the dark. Everything slid from her grasp, if they were ever there to begin with. A sheet of glass stood between her and the elemental world. She could see it and touch its reflection but couldn’t yank it to her.

Her eyes opened and she panted. This wasn’t working. She could barely breathe. The boy and whatever he was doing would kill her long before Christopher and Elijah had the chance.

The duke was in her line of sight. He was doing something, his actions shadowed by the lightning that was beginning to spark inside the containment circle.

Tate cringed back when a bolt got too close. It was now or never.

She shut her eyes and forced herself back under. This time was different than before, the arc of energy more willing to come when called, but she still couldn’t form the bridge.

What had Ilith advised? Align herself with what she was summoning?

The air thrummed around her, alive with energy. She took pieces of it and ran it down to Ilith who plucked at the magic, sending the vibrations reverberating through Tate. That was it.

Tate snatched another piece from the atmosphere but instead of shooting it to Ilith, she sent it inside. Holding it until its movement mirrored that of the elemental on the other side of the veil. Even then, Tate didn’t release it, siphoning off another piece of the power that continued to build.

It was only when she couldn’t hold it any longer. When her mind strained from the pressure and threatened to split, that she sent it—along with desperation and an iron will to survive—down that link to the existence on the other side.

That mind took it and shot it back, so fast and hard that Tate threatened to crumple under the pressure. That was the missing piece. The elemental had to cooperate.

The exchange happened in seconds. There was a crack and then Tate’s world exploded. There was a shriek of victory. The boy disappeared, leaving Tate gasping in the center of a floor that had a spider web of cracks running through it. The circle was broken.

Tate gasped for breath, sweat stinging her eyes as if she’d just run several miles or gone a few rounds with her fight instructor.

Christopher stared at her with wide, shocked eyes, the surprise almost comical. Slowly that spilled away to be replaced by anger.

Elijah stepped forward. “What happened? Where did he go?”

“There has been a slight hiccup.”

“A hiccup. This isn’t a hiccup. This is a disaster,” Elijah shouted. “The floor is destroyed. We have no way to contain him, and we’re trapped in his space. A space, may I remind you, that he has complete control over. He can kill us at any time.”

“I think he’ll play with you for a little bit first,” Tate said. Her smile was tired and full of triumph. If she had to die, which was still a possibility given the level of anger the little guy seemed to have for her, at least she wasn’t going to die alone.

“This is your fault.” Elijah pointed at Tate, anger turning his face ugly. “You did this.”

“Yup, and I’d do it again.” Tate gave him the biggest grin she could summon.

The circle was gone—as was the force holding her inside it. That didn’t mean she was saved. She still had a knife in her shoulder, an enemy with the ability to incapacitate her, and she was stuck in a room that she was pretty sure answered to the boy’s will.

Elijah hauled Tate to her feet. He was strong for someone she had written off as a soft academic, one more used to exercising his mind rather than his muscles.

“Bring him back.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, buddy. I have a feeling the boy will be making his presence known any minute.” Tate leaned closer. “I don’t think you’re going to like how he does that.”

A dull roar washed through the room, the hairs on Tate’s arms standing on end as a charge followed. This time, high pitched screams crackled through the air.

Yup. The boy was definitely making his feelings known in a tantrum that was going to result in the death of everyone here if he had his way.

Tate’s feet lifted from the ground for a moment, as if whatever kept her ground locked had just disappeared. She thumped back down.

“What was that?” Roslyn cried, looking around her. Tate wasn’t the only one who had come briefly untethered.

They looked around as if seeing the boy would make whatever was happening stop. Light arced above them, like a self-contained lightning storm.

Elijah was ripped away from Tate and thrown across the room, landing with a thud against the wall. He collapsed in a boneless heap on the ground.

The duke was tossed into the air and then hurled to the ground in the same second. Roslyn tried to run and whipped backwards, her arms and legs still pointed in the direction she’d been going. Tate darted behind her, taking the brunt of her weight as they crashed to the ground.

“What is this?” Roslyn said.

“I imagine there’s a reason the guardians are left to their own devices,” Tate said, shoving the other woman off her. She left Roslyn sprawled in a heap on the ground, her skirts twisted around her. “We’re just finding that out the hard way.”

“How do we stop it?”

“I don’t know that we can.” Tate eyed the room with a grim expression. That lightning was getting closer and closer. Judging by the static that she could already feel lifting her hair from her head, she doubted they’d survive if it reached the ground.

“There must be something. How did you escape last time?”

The first time Ai had let her go, or rather, she’d thrown Tate out of her room. As for the time with the boy, she still didn’t know how she was able to do what she did. It was worth a try.

“I need to get to the table.” It was across the room behind Christopher, who had raised his arms to the ceiling, thrown his head back and was chanting in a language that sounded a lot like gibberish to Tate. It was having an effect on the lightning which was moving closer to him. The boy appeared in the intermittent flashes, floating by the ceiling.

“Come on.” Tate grabbed Roslyn’s arm and dragged her after her, skirting Christopher and the duke as armor slowly incased him. He held a whip of blue light.

“What is that?” Tate asked, pointing at the duke.

“It’s his artifact, Arkan Blue. The armor protects him from any manmade weapon. The whip can cut through any substance.”

That was convenient, but ultimately unhelpful since the Guardian didn’t have a form that could be cut through.

“Where are we going?” Roslyn asked as she and Tate worked their way around the room.

“We need to get to the table.”

“Why?”

So many questions. Really. In this situation?

“Just follow.”

They darted around the other two men, passing Elijah where he was still slumped on the floor. Tate hoped he wasn’t dead. She planned to make him pay for what he’d put her through.

Christopher’s guards backed against the walls, horror on their faces. The black sand Tate had encountered in her first visit to this place pulled away from the walls, giving the impression for a moment that the walls were alive. The sand curled out, wrapping around the first guard. Its inky darkness stabbing into his skin and consuming the flesh until he was covered in the black stuff, like locusts on a tasty meal.

The other guard tried to run, but the black sand was too fast, snapping out to envelop him. Both were pulled into the wall, their screams echoing in the chamber.

Tate kept running, dragging Roslyn along with her when she would have stopped and tried to help the guards.

She slapped her hand on the opaque, white glass and thought of the freedom of that other chamber.

The table beeped. The sound an ugly blare. Words flashed in red on the table. Access Denied.

“No, no, no.” Tate lifted her hand and slammed it against the table again. It beeped and the words flashed again.

“I don’t understand. What are you doing? It’s impossible to read the ancient’s language.”

“This worked last time,” Tate said, trying again. She kicked the table when it beeped again.

“You didn’t think I’d leave such a gap in my security again, Savior scum,” the boy said, appearing in front of her.

Roslyn screamed, jumping back, her hands covering her mouth in horror. Tate flinched but held firm. The boy stood in the middle of the table. To be more accurate, the table bisected his middle. He walked forward, moving seamlessly until he stood in front of the table.

Tate gulped. That was so creepy. Ai at least pretended to be semi human.

“Ai?” the boy’s eyes became vague as if he was shifting through his memories.

Christopher shouted a word and flung a golden web in the boy’s direction. The boy held up one palm, halting the web before sending it crashing back on Christopher. The man screamed as his creation wrapped around him, biting into his flesh and raising nasty welts where the golden threads touched. It even burned through some of his clothes.

“You caught me once through your tricks, mage. Do not think you will be successful a second time,” the boy sneered. He had a lot more emotion in his voice than Ai. He seemed almost human.

“Saviors rescue me,” Roslyn chanted.

“Those traitors cannot help you here.” The boy turned to glare at her.

“Look, just let us go. I can make sure that Brown Eyes never bothers you again,” Tate said, holding up her hands. Brute force wasn’t going to work. They needed to try reason.

“I can do that myself.”

Tate’s eyes went to Christopher, moaning on the ground. Even as she watched, his moan changed to giggles that Tate knew were going to haunt her dreams for years. That man was more than a little insane.

“Point taken.” She needed something else.

“What if we promise never to come here again?” Roslyn burst out.

“And will you promise to keep all your other meat sacks from traipsing through my territory as well?” He cocked his head as his lips gave a derisive twist.

“We can’t do that,” Tate said over Roslyn’s ‘yes.’ She’d learned from Ai that lying was not a good idea when dealing with one of the minor gods. They could tell. “We don’t have the power to make promises like that.”

The duke crept up from behind, his blue whip held loosely in his hand. Tate shook her head at him. The last thing she needed was for him to make the boy angry. She was almost certain that his whip was useless against him.

“Not even him?” The boy’s smile was sly as he turned his head toward the duke.

“Not even him.” Thankfully the duke didn’t try to protest out of false ego. “He represents just one of the factions interested in this place. He can’t speak for the others.”

“That’s a pity.” The boy gestured with one hand and Roslyn and the duke fell, as if puppets who’d just had their strings cut. Tate stared in horror. He’d been playing with them the whole time.

The boy stepped forward, lifting one slim hand and pressing a finger against Tate’s forehead.

There was a brief falling sensation and then Tate stopped abruptly, darkness crowding around.

“Hello,” she called. Fear was already starting to encroach.

“You fear the dark,” the boy said. He didn’t sound like a boy anymore. He sounded like a man. Young and untried. He stepped around her. His appearance had changed. He'd grown, his flesh filling out and losing some of the paleness.

“A little, yes.” Tate looked around. What she had thought was complete black before now had pinpricks of light all around them. It was beautiful.

“I’ve moved our consciousness to a place where we could speak undisturbed.”

Tate fought to keep her thoughts off her face. They’d been pretty undisturbed after he cut the other two’s strings.

“You’ve met one like me before.” It wasn’t a question. The boy’s eyes gleamed with avarice.

Tate gulped. How did he know that?

“Yes.”

“Name.”

Tate hesitated.

“Or did you not bother to get that.”

Tate had a feeling not knowing the name would be seen as an insult worthy of death. “Ai. Her name was Ai.”

She really hoped this being, whatever he was, god, ghost or some form of person, didn’t use this information to hurt Ai.

The boy paced away from her. Tate watched, unable to get over how he seemed to have grown what looked like five years in mere moments.

“She must have had a reason to help you. She wouldn’t have done that for just anyone.” He spun to face Tate. “Who are you to her?”

She didn’t have the answer to that.

He was suddenly in front of her, the little boy again. “Who?” he shouted in an inhuman voice that roiled through the vastness around them.

“I don’t know. She said she’d been waiting for me.”

The youth was there again, his face thoughtful. “Curious. She must be playing some game.” He tapped his mouth thoughtfully. “Should we help or hinder? Destroy her plans?”

Tate watched as he paced back and forth, his form shimmering in and out between boy, youth and man. It was mind bending.

The bracelet tattoo that Tate had picked up the last time she was in this room seeped out of her skin. It stretched out, spreading itself impossibly thin as it rose to eye level.

The boy paused in his pacing and stepped closer to the metal. His hand hovered next to it, as if he wanted to touch but didn’t dare. Tate couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. Something between rage, yearning, and sadness.

Ilith pressed close, watching the boy with something approaching the fascination a lion might have for a gazelle.

Edible?

No, I don’t think so. Tate didn’t want the boy guessing at what she was thinking.

We could try, was the hopeful response.

I thought it was too dangerous to attempt a change, Tate thought back.

Tate got the impression of a thoughtful cant to Ilith’s head as if she was thinking. Not here. We’re between. Should be safe.

Let’s wait and see. If the boy seemed like he was an immediate threat, then they’d try. She didn’t want to act aggressively and perhaps destroy her chance of getting out of here alive. The biggest reason was she didn’t even know where they were. She wasn’t sure she could get them back to the real world.

“We’ve decided.” The youth dropped his hand and looked at Tate. “We will let you go.”

Oh good. Her decision not to let Ilith out was repaid.

“In return you will carry a message for us.”

“A message?” Tate asked.

“To Ai.”

Damn, she’d been afraid of that.

“That might be a problem.” For starters Tate wasn’t sure how to find her without venturing deep into the catacombs and into the territory of the Tsuchigon, beasts with the body of a spider and the head of a human. Worst the creatures had a taste for human flesh.

“Your other option is remaining here to die.”

“I’ll do it.” That wasn’t an option she was willing to take. “What’s the message?”

“Tell her – the sleepers awaken. Owl hunts again.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.” He blinked at her. “Is that not enough?”

“Nope, it’s perfect. Short and easy to remember.”

“There’s one more piece.” He touched her forehead and the world spun around her, a kaleidoscope of lights, spinning and spinning until it stopped.

Chapter Twenty One

Someone was shaking her arm. Tate groaned and rolled over, shrugging them off. She just needed a few more minutes.

Something shifted in her shoulder. Fire arced from it.

Tate gasped and sat up. She touched the knife still embedded in her shoulder, it was tender to the touch. “Yup, that’s still there.” It was pretty impressive really given all that had happened since it had landed in her flesh.

“You’re alive.” Roslyn seemed relieved. She’d been the one shaking her. “We woke up and you weren’t moving. I couldn’t feel your pulse and you weren’t breathing. I was sure you were dead.”

“Nope, not dead.”

Tate looked around. The duke was watching them from over Roslyn’s shoulder, his blue whip of light out and seemed to be acting as a threat against bad behavior from Christopher.

Christopher sat, legs folded and crossed in front of him and his hands tied behind his back. Burn marks from the webbing decorated his face and torso. He gave Tate a sinister smile when he noticed her looking at him.

“Back from the dead. You really are the perfect experiment subject. You’re practically indestructible.”

“Unlike you who had his ass kicked after his plan backfired.”

“And yet I learned so much.” His smile was beatific in his peace. As if he’d stared at eternity and unlocked the secrets of the universe.

“Probably the last thing you ever learn.”

Elijah was still unconscious next to him.

“How do we get out of here?” Roslyn asked.

Tate glanced around. They were back in the chamber under the mosaic room.

“What about the ladder leading to the room above this?” she asked.

“The door is locked at the top. I think the altar is over it, making it impossible to lift the trap door.”

Tate was out of ideas. She was tired with a headache from the sonic berserker. Her shoulder had turned into one massive throbbing pain, and she was bleeding again. She didn’t have the energy right now to think let alone find a way to get them back to the surface.

Night prowled into the room. Tate blinked at him, sure he was a mirage.

You’re a hard woman to track down. He stopped, sat and licked a paw.

Jost rounded the corner, stopping and staring at them with startled eyes before shouting over his shoulder, “They’re in here.”

“Look at that; you brought reinforcements,” Tate said, giving Night a goofy smile.

Of course I did, you crazy woman. I remember the last time you got into trouble in one of these death traps. No way was I carrying your bloody person out of here. He gave his paw one last look. I have my coat to think of. Can’t have your blood mucking up my fur.

“You’re all heart,” she said.

“Tate.” A flash of boy and Tate found herself surrounded by a pair of arms. “I’m sorry I ran.”

“Dewdrop,” Tate cried. She grabbed hold of him and let go of him just as quickly, her shoulder screaming in pain. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry I left you.” His eyes were wet and face red as if he’d been crying.

“No, you did the absolute best thing. You saved yourself and then went and got help. If you’d stayed he probably would have killed you.”

Try not to run off by yourself next time. Night’s voice was gruff in her head. The shrimp was beside himself, wailing and carrying on. Crying about how he’d left Tate to die.

Dewdrop drew back from Tate to glare at Night. “I did no such thing. I expressed myself in a forceful manner to draw attention to the problem at hand.”

Night chuffed and shook his head, his pelt sliding and then settling back into place.

Tate leaned back on a hand. “I didn’t exactly run off by myself, you know.”

Because kidnapping sounds so much better. This is what, the third time?

It was Tate’s turn to scoff.

“Well, look at that, the dragon seems to be fine. Just as we said she would be,” Seigal said, Ward at his back.

Night’s ears went flat against his head and Dewdrop’s gaze was unfriendly.

“They’re the reason we didn’t get here earlier,” Dewdrop said quietly. “They tried to get the rescue canceled. It was only when Ryu said we’d go without them and that they would be reported to their superiors that they gave in to help us search.”

“Why ask them to help in the first place?” Tate asked. Ward and his friend sauntered into the chamber. They looked at Christopher on the ground, Elijah next to him and didn’t lift an eyebrow.

“We didn’t have a choice. They showed up before Night and I arrived to report your abduction to Jost. Technically, this fell under their jurisdiction.”

Tate found herself less and less impressed with the Black Order if the likes of these two called the place home. It wasn’t just that they were incompetent. They were stupid about it.

Ward stopped in front of them, using his height to look down on the three of them. “I could have you three brought up on charges for inciting a rescue that was unnecessary and cost the empire valuable time and resources for what turns out to be something that was blown out of proportion.”

Tate just stared at the man. Was he blind? Maybe his mother had dropped him on the head as a child, irrevocably damaging his ability to understand things or make good decisions. If that was the case, it was Tate’s duty to be understanding. It was the only thing she could think of to explain the absurd words coming out of his mouth.

She couldn’t even bring her thoughts together to formulate a response.

Night let out a rumbling growl.

The man’s gaze switched to him. “I hear your application to recognize your species as one entitled to the rights and privileges under the sentient species act is under review. It will be my pleasure to testify as to how close you are to your base animal self.”

Night’s head dropped and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Night. Don’t play into his hands,” Tate warned.

“Did I hear right? That you were threatening a recently kidnapped woman, who from the looks of it has been tortured, as well as the individuals instrumental in finding and saving her?” Jost inquired, his voice unnaturally calm. He gave Ward an expectant look.

It was a trap. Tate had seen Jost use this method before. Ask a rhetorical question and then wait for the unsuspecting victim to try to dig their way out. She felt no sympathy for what was about to happen to these two. Jost’s way was technically more civilized and more legal, but no less brutal than what Tate was thinking about doing to the two.

As a mediator for the empire, Jost commanded a certain level of respect. Judging by the way the Black Order’s men looked, like someone had just left a pile of steaming shit in their Order’s hall, they knew it too.

“My lord, we were just remarking on how the dragon seems to have come out of this escapade with little damage while a noted academic and his colleague seem to have been assaulted.”

Jost did not look impressed with the explanation. “I don’t know about you, but I’d consider a knife sticking out of a shoulder ample evidence of things afoot that might need more explaining.”

Ward’s eyes went to Tate’s shoulder. The knife was still there and her shirt had blood down the front. She didn’t have to try to look pitiful and exhausted. She simply was.

His jaw firmed and he looked back at Jost.

Jost’s smile was unamused. “Perhaps next time instead of leaping to baseless conclusions you should take the time to assess the situation and find out what’s really going on.”

“Of course, my lord.” Ward didn’t look chastened, merely like he was swallowing words he feared would get him into further trouble.

“Why don’t you secure the two prisoners over there? That is what you are here for.”

Ward gave him a stilted nod then he and his friend walked over to where the duke guarded Christopher and Elijah.

Jost waited until they were out of hearing range before turning to Tate, his face grave. “What exactly did happen?”

Tate explained the events leading up to Christopher kidnapping her. How he said he’d killed Dewdrop, his ultimate plan in the chamber and how he thought he could imprison a minor god. She tried to sum up as much as she could. He could ask her more later. When she wasn’t covered in blood and exhausted.

She left out the pieces Christopher had told her about her past. They weren’t relevant to the situation, and she wasn’t sure she believed his explanation, nor did she want others privy to that knowledge before she decided how much stock to put into it. She also left out the boy’s message for Ai.

Ward and Seigal hauled Christopher to his feet, shoving him in front of them. They conscripted some of the men Jost had brought with him to help carry Elijah, who was still unconscious.

“Wait, what about the Duke? Aren’t you going to arrest him too?” Tate asked, stepping forward.

“Tate,” Jost said.

Ward gave Tate an insulted look. “He’s committed no crime.”

“He helped them,” Tate said, aghast. He might not have kidnapped her or forced her into that circle but he was definitely complicit. Not to mention he’d helped Elijah with the smuggling operation.

“Enough.” Jost grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back.

“Jost.”

“No, quiet. There are things you don’t understand. If you continue further, you’ll just make enemies who will not rest until you and those close to you are destroyed.” Jost shot a meaningful glance at Night and Dewdrop, both of whom looked angry about the turn of events.

“I think it’s too late for that. He declared himself an enemy when he helped them stick me into a circle with a crazy guardian. I almost died. His daughter almost died. To say nothing of the harm he would have brought to this world if they had succeeded.”

“I don’t care. Drop this. I will not ask again.”

Tate’s jaw locked at his tone, her eyes holding his as temper ran through her. He didn’t budge, his gaze flinty. With a long exhale, she relaxed and stepped back to let the men from the Black Order take the two prisoners they held.

“This is wrong,” Tate said in a soft voice.

“Many things in this world are wrong.”

Roslyn looked from her father to Tate, her expression indecisive. Tate avoided her gaze. She knew in her head that Roslyn hadn’t been responsible for what happened, but right now it was hard not to blame the woman for the part her father had played in events.

Roslyn’s face fell when Tate looked the other way. She nodded once, her lips firming before she strode to her father.

“I rescind my claim to the Spiritly bloodline,” Roslyn said in a clear, ringing voice.

“Saviors’ curse it,” Jost exclaimed, following that up with a couple of choice words that Tate hadn’t heard since her time on the ship.

She didn’t understand what had him so upset. Roslyn’s words were personal, more the type of thing said in a family squabble, but unimportant with all that was going on.

The duke stared at his daughter with something approaching shock. His face lost all expression as he pulled on a mask and he gave her a cold look.

“Are you prepared to accept the consequences of that declaration?”

Roslyn’s shoulders squared and she nodded. “I do. I am no longer your daughter. No longer of your line.”

“All privileges extended to you because of your ancestors will be rescinded.”

“I am prepared for that outcome.”

He gave her a long look. For a moment, a brief one, he looked sad and unhappy about that response. Then his lips firmed and his expression iced over. “Very well. You are no one to me.”

He brushed past her, following the Black Order’s men and leaving without a backward glance.

Looking at Roslyn was painful. Although her face was turned away from them, every line in her body spoke of agony. Tate felt sympathy for her. Even if the duke was an asshole who deserved to be behind bars, he was Roslyn’s father. Cutting ties like that would have hurt.

“Let’s head back up,” Jost said. “I need to call everyone together for my verdict on the mediation and then I need to write this whole debacle up.”

“Oh?” Tate asked. “You know what your decision will be?”

“I don’t know how to say this, but you’ve pretty much managed to screw these negotiations to the Northern Reaches and back.”

“So you have no clue, huh?”

“None.”

That sounded about right.

Chapter Twenty Two

Jost gave Tate long enough to get the knife taken out of her shoulder and her wound dressed by a medic before he put her in a carriage and they headed back to the city. He wanted to call a meeting to give his final verdict, but Tate convinced him to hold off until she had an opportunity to resolve a few loose ends.

She’d come to a few realizations while underground and she wanted to test her theory before he made his announcement and finished the mediation. If she was right, his decision was going to create a few waves. She wanted the opportunity to make a few things clear before that happened.

That’s how she came to be standing, a few hours later, in the mansion where all this had begun waiting for the Shodon to show up.

She stared out the window, hands clasped behind her back as the Shodon and his guards arrived. She turned to face them and gestured to a couch. “Please have a seat.”

The Shodon said, “I prefer to remain standing.”

“That’s fine; this won’t take long.”

His face showed a trace of amusement at that statement.

“I imagined, when the mediator called this meeting, a room more suited to the occasion.” The Shodon’s gaze had a hint of disdain as he looked around.

“Oh, yes. That room is much better than this. I’ve seen it. Very impressive.” Tate gave an airy wave. “He didn’t call this meeting. I did.”

The Shodon's eyes sharpened on Tate. “I hadn’t thought your status high enough to make such demands.”

Tate gave him a grim smile. “Your mistake. I’m sure after this, you’ll be a little more aware of your facts in future. I called you in here to tell you the mediator’s ruling.”

“I already know his decision,” the Shodon said.

“I doubt it.”

“We are the only ones left who haven’t broken faith. Should he not rule in our favor I will have him brought up before the tribunal for incompetence.”

“I don’t think so,” Tate said, taking a step forward.

His guards shifted, hands sliding to weapons. Ilith pushed forward, the dragon making itself known in Tate’s glare. Their eyes darted away. Tate wondered what they saw when Ilith did this. Was it a hardness to her eyes? A feral hunger that said she’d be just as happy picking her teeth clean with their bones? Or did they see a faint shadow of the dragon moving deep in Tate’s eyes?

“It’s true that the Silva and humans were on their worst behavior during this mediation. Because of that Jost plans to rule in the Academics’ favor with the caveat that they have two Silva historians on site at all times. Also, credit for anything discovered will be shared with the Silva, and all artifacts will be put into a trust in the Silva’s name. There are a few other pieces that I’ll let Jost explain during the meeting. None of those will affect the Kairi, however.”

“I see.” The Shodon inclined his head and gestured at his guards. “There is little more to discuss. I have no choice but to pay a call to the tribunal head.”

“You know, I couldn’t figure out why you decided to file a claim when your tie to the discovery was practically nonexistent. Then I learned that Ithor was an assassin. That he was the person the Kairi nobles used to make problems go away when you didn’t want it traced back to you.” The Shodon’s face gave few clues to what he was thinking. “Suddenly it all started making sense. This is just a guess, but I think you knew that the Academics were seeding the tunnels with defunct artifacts from other sites, and that the Silva were smuggling in bones to make it look like their ancestors had buried their dead there to make their right to the find unassailable.”

“By your own story, I would only need to sit back and let the two disqualify themselves due to a breach of faith during mediation.” The Shodon gave a faint smile.

“Yes, none of it made sense to me, but I kept going back to the fact that you brought an assassin to what were essentially peace talks. Then it hit me, you use assassins to eliminate enemies.”

“I imagine that is what assassins are usually used for,” he said in a dry voice.

Tate continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Only your target wasn’t the Silva or the Academics.”

The Shodon didn’t look amused at Tate’s words now. His gaze took on a watchful look as did his guards’. They knew where she was heading with this.

“Tell me, when was it that you decided I had to die?” Tate asked, pinning him with her gaze. “Has it been brewing since you first heard of your granddaughter’s death or was it a little more spontaneous?”

It was a wild guess, but it made sense. From what Tate knew about the Kairi, they were obsessed with two things. Family and honor. Umi might have been the one doing the betraying, but in the complicated way of the Kairi, the Shodon’s honor would demand satisfaction from Tate for the role she played in Umi’s death.

“You have no proof.”

Tate gave a careless shrug. “Nope.”

“Then your threat is meaningless.”

“Are you sure of that?” Tate tilted her chin down and gave him a chilling smile. It wasn’t every day that you faced someone who plotted your demise. “I’ve worked around thieves and other unsavory sorts and there is one thing they all have in common. They always have a backup plan. Especially when working with those of the noble set. Your sort aren’t exactly known for dealing honorably with those you consider beneath yourself. Loose ends and all that.”

His mouth tightened at the corners. It was very faint and Tate would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching him so closely.

“I’m willing to bet your assassin kept some sort of record or evidence that would point directly back to you in the event of his untimely death. Should you try to overturn the mediator’s verdict I will make it my mission to uncover that evidence, and if I can’t I’ll just have to create some.”

“You’ve just made a mistake. My guards and I will testify that you threatened us with this. You and your mediator should prepare for a long stint at one of the work camps for fraud committed in the emperor’s name.”

Tate’s smile was humorless. “It’ll be your word against mine, and since you’re the one that the evidence will point to I think they will be less inclined to put stock in what you say.”

“You delve into waters you do not understand. I am the Shodon, my word is my bond.”

“You are not the only one with powerful friends. As we speak, the Silva Doyenne is being released. Who do you think she will be grateful to? Do you really want to risk a battle where the outcome is so unpredictable? It is not me who will suffer the greater cost of having my name dragged through the muck. I have no ancestors to face in the next world. The only one affected by dishonor is myself. Can you say the same?”

Tate waited as the Shodon stared at her impassively. A large part of what she said had been a bluff. Tala was being released, but there was no guarantee she’d be grateful to Tate for that. Tate was the one who convinced her to consent to her arrest in the first place. Ryu was the only other friend she had with something akin to power in this government and she wasn’t sure how far his goodwill extended.

“You play dangerous games, little dragon,” the Shodon finally said. “Be careful that they do not drown you.” He nodded at his guards and they swept out of the room.

Tate watched him go. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask whether that meant he’d drop any notion of interfering with Jost’s verdict. She held the words back, not wanting to appear anything less than utterly confident in the outcome.

Ryu stepped into the room, glancing at the departing backs of the Kairi.

“How’d it go?”

“I think it worked.”

“Think?”

“He’s got a face of stone. It’s hard to tell what’s getting through.”

Ryu sighed. “Good enough.”

Tate studied Ryu as he stepped into the room, surprised that he had come. She thought he would be interrogating the duke to get whatever information he’d gone undercover to find.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have news.” He looked tense.

“What news?”

“We just received word from the Black Order. Their people were ambushed on their way back into the city. The man you called Christopher escaped.”

“Damn, I’d hoped to question him on how he managed to turn Bridgette to his cause. I thought she would be too devoted to Tala to betray her in such a manner.”

Ryu shrugged. “She probably didn’t think she was betraying her doyenne. Christopher could have made it appear that the orders originated from Tala. He also could have made it seem that by poisoning you, Bridgette was protecting her doyenne. Although the obeziku are very childlike, they still retain the Silva’s protectiveness to their own. We’ll never know all of the details, I suspect.”

“What will happen to Bridgette now?” It might be odd for Tate to want the woman who poisoned her to go free, but Bridgette struck her as the victim in all this. Was it truly a crime if the perpetrator didn’t understand the consequences of her actions?

Ryu’s face got still.

“Ryu?” Tate asked when he didn’t immediately answer.

His response was slow in coming. “She’s dead. She committed suicide early this morning.”

Tate stared at him in shock. The image of Bridgette’s relieved smile wouldn’t fade. It was hard to reconcile that smile with someone who no longer walked in this world.

After a long pause, she forced herself to move on.

“And Elijah?”

Ryu shook his head. “Also dead. We think Christopher killed him during the escape.”

“Probably because his use was at an end and Christopher didn’t want him talking,” Tate said, thinking out loud. She rubbed her forehead. So many deaths.

Christopher’s escape was not good. His interest in her didn’t seem like the sort of thing to just disappear. He’d come after her. Maybe not now, while every guard in the city was looking for him, but eventually.

“What about the Duke? He seemed to be in on everything. Arrest him and see if he knows where Christopher might go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Tate stared at him in shock. Yes, he could. All he had to do was order the arrest or if he didn’t have enough power find someone who could. Ryu’s jaw tightened and he glanced away.

“You can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

This didn’t make sense. Something was going on. Something he hadn’t told her.

Ilith agreed. She shifted and fluttered her wings.

“He’s working for you,” Tate said, finally putting the pieces together. “That’s why you inserted yourself into his party.”

Ryu’s jaw worked and he met Tate’s eyes with an intense stare. “Yes.”

“That’s why he hasn’t been arrested, despite being clearly affiliated with the other two.”

Ryu’s nod was grudging. “Yes. He’s been working with me for a while. His daughter’s inability to bond with an artifact was the perfect excuse. We felt that he’d be more likely to be able to infiltrate Christopher’s network if they assumed he was power hungry.”

“Why involve me, then, if you already had a man inside?” Tate was angry. This whole thing was a set up.

“It wasn’t supposed to go the way it did. At first, it was just a way to see how you would handle acting in a situation like this. By the time we knew that your friend from the tunnels was involved, it was too late to pull you out. The Duke and I decided to keep everything in play to see if there was something we could learn.”

And it didn’t really matter if Tate’s life was at stake. This was why she didn’t trust Ryu. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t betray her in the name of his empire or whatever nefarious plot he had going on.

“The duke did something to the circle to break it, didn’t he?” Tate asked, things from the tunnels making more sense now. She’d had such difficulty dropping into the elemental space and then suddenly it was clear.

“Yes.”

Well, at least they hadn’t left her to die. Small relief as it was.

There was one part about all this that bothered her. She never had figured out who killed Ithor and Ronald. From what she could tell, the Silva and Academics hadn’t been anywhere near where the murder occurred. The only people whose movements were somewhat unclear were the duke’s people because they arrived after everyone else was already in the study.

There had been something about that wound that had been nagging at her for days. It hadn’t looked like something a knife would make.

She remembered what Christopher had said about a dragon being responsible for the murders. At the time she had thought he meant her, which she knew was absurd. The problem was that she wasn’t the only dragon to attend that party, and the other dragon had shown up late.

She gave Ryu a considering glance and then stared at her own hands. Was it possible to just change one part of a body to that of the dragon?

Ilith considered the question. Maybe for someone who has lived with the dragon for many years.

“Did you kill Ithor and Ronald?”

The shock and the faintest trace of guilt on his face told Tate everything she needed to know. She had no doubt he’d done it.

The question, now, was why?

“I’m not answering that question,” he said, his face calm and his voice resolute.

“Why?” She couldn’t help but ask even as his voice warned her off.

He advanced on her quickly, she took a step back before holding firm. She stared up at him as his eyes moved over her face.

He breathed, “You know the answer to that already.”

He ran the back of one knuckle along her cheek in a gentle caress. He gave her a searching look, before he stepped away, spun on his heel and walked out, leaving Tate to stare in shock after him.

*

Tate groaned as she climbed out of the carriage, her shoulder letting her know it’d had about enough of her absurdity for one day. It was one dull throb that got worst with every heartbeat and each slight movement.

The thought of climbing the stairs to her apartment was enough to leave her in the fetal position. The only thing keeping her going was the promise of the comfortable bed waiting for her once she made it.

She dragged herself out of the conveyance and into her building, only noticing the fancy carriage parked right in front because its presence meant she had to walk several steps further to the building’s entrance. It was all black with silver detailing. It looked expensive and was the nicest carriage she’d ever seen in the Lower. Or the Upper for that matter. Who the owner could be visiting at Colton’s Place was a mystery though. No one here rated such highborn guests except maybe Ryu, and he stayed in the Lower only when business called for it.

Tate made it up the stairs and to her door, using her key to unlock it. She stopped short three feet into the room.

“What are you doing in my room?” she asked the man whose back was facing her.

He had a thick head of brown hair and clothes fine enough to match the fancy carriage downstairs. When he turned, a warm pair of green eyes met hers. Familiar eyes.

“Thad, how did you get into my room?” The question was simple given the shock Tate was feeling at his appearance. She knew Thad as a homeless man she occasionally gave money to, not this person with clothes that cost what Tate paid in rent for an entire year.

"I never did thank you for your kindness these past few weeks," Thad said with a charming smile.

Tate blinked. That was not an answer. “You could start by not entering my home without permission.”

He laughed, flashing straight, white teeth. How had Tate ever thought he was homeless? Everything about him screamed high class and nobility.

“You’ve impressed me with your handling of current events.”

Tate blinked again. Who was he to be impressed and how did he know about her role in the mediation?

“You seem confused,” he stated, his eyes observant as they cataloged the way Tate had turned partially to the door in anticipation of a quick getaway. “I take it that Ryu failed to mention my interest.”

“What does he have to do with this?” And how did he know Thad? Unless he, like Tate, had helped Thad out of a tight spot.

“Ah, perhaps he’s hoping I’ll change my mind.” Thad’s eyes dropped to the floor in thought.

“Change your mind about what?” Tate couldn’t help it. She was curious.

“As you can see, I’m not exactly homeless,” Thad said, the change in conversation abrupt and jarring.

“I’d put that together.”

He smiled again. It was a smile that would have made him handsome if it hadn’t belonged to someone who had broken into her home and was currently making her more than a little nervous, given recent events where she’d ended up injured and almost killed.

“You have a talent for problems that require a unique solution,” he said. “The empire hopes to make better use of such talents in the future.”

Before Tate could respond, Dewdrop and the cubs barreled into the room. They slid to a stop at the sight of the strange man.

“Are these the ones who are requesting that their species be recognized as sentient?” he asked, his gaze curious as it slid over the cubs. “Fascinating. This world never fails to surprise me.”

Willa bared her teeth and sidled sideways, putting Tate between her and the strange man.

Thad’s eyes raised to Tate’s. They held a slight smile in them.

“Who are you?” Tate asked.

“This is a new experience. It is not often that I have to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Thaddeus Aureus.”

Dewdrop jerked at her side and drew in a sharp gasp.

Thad’s eyes slid to Dewdrop. They had a sly look in them. “As I’ve said, your actions in this mediation have impressed me. I think a role in my dragon corps will suit you just fine.”

Tate’s mouth opened on an angry retort. Dewdrop grabbed her arm and shook his head in warning. She closed her mouth on the words she was about to say. Dewdrop had never led her wrong before.

“You’ve been on probation until my men could verify your claim to the dragon. That is over now. I’ve decided that however you’ve come to be Dragon-Ridden you are not a current threat to my empire.” Thad’s eyes hardened, giving a glimpse of the ruthless man lurking inside. “I recommend you keep it that way.” His eyes lightened. “You will be given the full rights and responsibilities of your station.”

Tate watched him carefully, not sure how to respond to that proclamation. She still had no idea who this man was, though given his dress and the authority with which he spoke, she had a feeling he was fairly important.

Thaddeus looked around. “I would recommend you start your new duties by finding lodgings more suitable to your station. These are rather small and will not be practical in the long term.”

He didn’t give her time to respond before sweeping out of the room with a last probing look at Tate, Dewdrop and the cubs.

Dewdrop gestured sharply for silence when she would have spoken. He darted over to the window and looked out at the carriage waiting below. Tate drifted over in time to see a footman open the carriage door for Thaddeus and close it behind him. The footman climbed on the back of the carriage as it started down the road.

“He’s gone.” A whoosh of breath left Dewdrop and he bent in place.

“How did he even get in here?” Tate asked. “I know that door was locked when I left.”

“Do you know who that was?” Dewdrop asked, his voice high and cracking on the last word.

“Someone important.”

His laugh was slightly hysterical. “You’d be right. The most important person on this continent. Perhaps the world.”

“Who is he?”

“You just hosted the emperor in your personal quarters,” Dewdrop said, resting his head against the wall.

Tate’s jaw dropped. Her eyes went to the window, then back to Dewdrop before returning to the window.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Tate shook her head. That wasn’t possible. The emperor couldn’t be the homeless man she’d given money to several times this month. He couldn’t be the man who had greeted her so casually just a few minutes ago.

“Where were his guards?” Tate asked, her voice reaching a high pitch.

“I don’t know.”

“What were they thinking letting someone like that wander around the Lower surprising normal folk?”

“No idea.”

“What does this mean?” Tate asked Dewdrop. She was a little dismayed.

“For starters, you’re not on probation anymore. They recognize you fully as Dragon-Ridden.”

Tate let that settle and tried not to think about having someone who held so much power over her life in close proximity where she could have caused grave insult.

A thought occurred to her. “Do you think this means I won’t have to go to any more of Daiske’s lectures?”

Dewdrop stared at her for a moment. Laughter erupted from him. “Only you could take that as your silver lining in all this.”

Tate shrugged. She counted never having to listen to Daiske lecture her about inconsequential things as a life goal.

One of the cubs stood on its back legs and patted her thigh. Tate stared down at Pax as he gave her a playful look.

“Where’s Night?” she asked.

“He wanted to see if he could catch Brown Eyes’ trail before it went cold. Why?”

“Ah.”

Dewdrop followed her gaze to the cubs who had twin looks of craftiness on their faces.

“Your turn,” Tate said. She would have made a run for it, but her shoulder wasn’t having it.

Dewdrop stood and tried to slink to the door. “They should stay with you. Keep watch on your injury. Make sure you don’t need anything.”

“Your turn, Dewdrop. I’m injured.”

He took several more steps. Tate tried to stop him and ended up wincing and cradling her shoulder at the sharp movement.

“Sorry, Tate. I’ll be back to check on you when they’re asleep.” Dewdrop made a break for it. He was out the door.

Tate cursed. She frowned down at the two innocent faces beaming up at her.

“There are going to be rules this time.”

Their whiskers turned up in their feline version of a smile.

Chapter Twenty Three

Tate walked down another tunnel of endless black. She hoped she was going the right way. Visiting the tunnels under Aurelia hadn’t been something she wanted to do, but a promise was a promise.

She liked to think she was the sort of person who kept promises before the long sleep. In the absence of her memories, she’d decided to act the way she felt now and quit worrying about who she was before.

This version of Tate kept promises. Even when it would be easier not to.

She’d left Dewdrop and Night behind. It hadn’t been easy. Dewdrop had stuck to her even tighter than usual for fear that something might happen. Luckily, Jost had decided that her adventure in the tunnels and the subsequent wounds gave her ample reason not to be present when he delivered his judgment for the mediation.

She’d told Dewdrop that he needed to watch the reactions of the Silva, Academics, and Kairi to Jost’s verdict and report back to her. It had given her the privacy she needed to slip away. She didn’t want an audience for this next task.

Tate had left a message on her desk to explain where she’d gone in case they got back before she returned. It should buy her a little bit of time, though she wasn’t looking forward to the lecture she would receive when she returned.

The tunnels flashed and then Tate was standing in the white room where she’d met Ai for the first time.

A girl, looking to be no more than fifteen, stood in front of Tate. She had a sweet looking face framed by long brown hair hanging in a loose, straight sheet down her back. The corners of her ice blue eyes crinkled as she gave Tate a welcoming smile.

“You’ve been practicing,” Tate said.

Her smile looked almost human. It was an improvement over the first time Tate had met her when the expression on Ai’s face had seemed vaguely sinister.

“Yes. Thank you for noticing.”

Tate couldn’t say that Ai didn’t still make her uncomfortable or inspire the strong urge to get as far away from here as possible. The other girl didn’t do it intentionally but there was something off about her.

Ai’s face settled back into that cold blankness. The kind that looked more at home on a statue.

“You did not come here to see what progress I’ve made in mastering human facial expressions,” Ai said. Despite the lack of emotion, she managed to look faintly quizzical.

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” Tate had said that she’d visit Ai, but this was the first time she’d been back here. “I needed to talk to you.”

Ai drifted forward, her feet not moving. “I will help if I can.”

“I met another. Like you, I think.”

Tate couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw Ai frown.

“Where?”

“Down the coast a couple of hours, to the south. There’s a set of tunnels that they’ve discovered in a swamp.”

“Was there anything outside to mark these tunnels?”

Tate thought back. “An obelisk I think. There were at least three entrances but only one was marked.”

“And you say there was one like me?” Ai turned her back and drifted to the white table in the middle of the room. She set a hand on the table. Symbols scrolled past. She lifted her hand away. Images appeared above her. “Is one of them the being you saw?”

Tate stepped forward looking at the images. There were people from the waist up, floating in the air above them. There were at least five of them.

“Are all of these people like you?” Tate asked.

“Perhaps.”

It was not an answer, but Tate didn’t press, looking back at the beings floating in midair. They weren’t flat in the way of paintings, more three dimensional like a statue. The boy and man Tate had met in the underground chamber was not among them.

“No, I don’t see him.”

Ai frowned. “Strange.”

“He wanted me to give you a message. He said, ‘The sleepers awaken. Owl hunts again.’”

Ai looked away, her form flickering.

“That’s not the only thing that happened,” Tate said, stepping closer to Ai. “Someone I met said that I’d been sleeping for thousands of years. He said that I was one of the Saviors. That the Creators had a hand in Ilith’s dragon bonding with me. Is this true?”

Tate wasn’t sure what she expected from Ai. The girl had known her name. She seemed to have knowledge of Tate from before her memories went missing.

“Parts of it are true, but there are many pieces of the story that I simply cannot tell you at this time.”

Tate exhaled, her breath shaky. She cleared her throat. She needed to concentrate on the rest. Her past could wait.

“What did the boy mean?”

Ai looked back at her, resolve in her face. “It means that it’s not a coincidence that you woke up in this time and place. Our enemies are waking.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. This world is about to change, and you might be the only one to stand between it and enslavement.”

Discover More by T.A. White

Chronicles of the Dragon-Ridden

Dragon-Ridden – Book One

The Broken Lands Series

Pathfinder’s Way – Book One

The Aileen Travers Series

Shadow’s Messenger – Book One

Midnight’s Emissary – Book Two

Connect with Me

Twitter: @tawhiteauthor

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Website: tawhiteauthor.com

Blog: http://dragon-ridden.blogspot.com/

About the Author

Writing is my first love. Even before I could read or put coherent sentences down on paper, I would beg the older kids to team up with me for the purpose of crafting ghost stories to share with our friends. This first writing partnership came to a tragic end when my coauthor decided to quit a day later, and I threw my cookies at her head. Today, I stick with solo writing, telling the stories that would otherwise keep me up at night.

Most days (and nights) are spent feeding my tea addiction while defending the computer keyboard from my feline companion, Loki

Pathfinder’s Way Excerpt

The Trateri are about to learn a vital lesson of the Broken Lands. Deep in the remote expanse where anything can happen, it pays to be on a pathfinder’s good side.

Nobody ventures beyond their village walls. Nobody sane that is. Monstrous creatures and deadly mysteries wait out there. Lucky for the people she serves, Shea’s not exactly sane. As a pathfinder, it’s her job to face what others fear and protect her charges from the dangers that await in the Broken Lands. It’s not an easy job, but she’s the best at what she does.

When the people she serves betray her, Shea must rely on her wits and skill to survive the Trateri, a barbarian horde sweeping in to conquer the Lowlands, and their warlord, a man as dangerous as he is compelling. Her actions and the decisions she makes might mean the difference between life or death. Danger looms on the horizon and a partnership with the Warlord may be the only thing preventing the destruction of everything she holds dear.

Chapter One

“For God’s sake, woman, the village will still be there if we take an hour’s break.”

Shea rolled her eyes at the soaring mountains before her. This was the third rest stop the man had called for since setting out this morning.

“We must be half way there by now,” he continued.

Maybe if they hadn’t stopped several times already or if they had moved with a purpose, but as it stood the group had probably traveled less than two miles. Half of that nearly vertical. At this pace, it would take an extra half day to get back to Birdon Leaf.

And who would they blame for the delayed arrival?

Shea. Even though it wasn’t her needing to stop on every other hill when they felt a muscle cramp or experienced shortness of breath. Since she was the pathfinder, it was obviously her fault.

She could hear it now.

The pathfinder sets the pace. The pathfinder chooses when to take breaks. Yada. Yada. Yada.

She hated running missions with villagers. They thought that since they’d gone on day trips outside their village barriers as children, they knew a thing or two about trail signs and the Highlands in general.

It was always, ‘We should take this route. I think this route is faster. Why is it taking so long? These mountain passes are sooo steep.’

Never mind it was her that had walked these damn routes since the time she could toddle after the adults or that the paths they suggested would take them right through a beast’s nest.

Nope. She was just a pathfinder. A female pathfinder. A female pathfinder who hadn’t grown up in the same village as them. Obviously, she knew nothing of her craft.

The man yammered on about how they couldn’t take another step. Any reasonable person could see how worn out they were. She wasn’t the one carrying the gear or the trade goods.

Whine. Whine. Whine.

That’s all she heard. Over the last several months, she’d perfected the art of tuning them out without missing pertinent information.

It was all in the pitch. Their voices tended to approach a higher frequency when they regressed to bitching about what couldn’t be changed. As if she could make the switchbacks approaching the Garylow Mountain pass any less steep or treacherous.

“We’ll take a rest once we reach the pass,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

They had begged for another break since about five minutes after the last one.

She had a deadline to meet. Sleep to catch. Most importantly, she didn’t think she could last another half day with this lot.

“We’re nowhere near that pass,” the man raged.

The rest break obviously meant a lot to him.

“It’s just over that ridge,” Shea pointed above her.

Well, over that ridge and then another slight incline or two. It was just a small lie, really. If the man knew the truth, he’d probably sit down and refuse to take another step.

“That’s nearly a half mile away.” The man’s face flushed red.

Really if he had enough energy to be angry, he had enough energy to walk.

“Quarter mile at most.”

“We’re tired. We’ve been walking for days. First to the trading outpost and then back. What does an hour’s difference make?”

Shea sighed. Looked up at the blue, blue sky and the soaring pinnacles of rock then down at the loose shale and half trampled path they’d already traveled.

“You’re right, an hour’s rest won’t make much difference.” His face lit up. “However, you’ve already wasted two hours today on the last two breaks. You also wasted several hours yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. We should have been back already.”

She held up her hand when he opened his mouth.

“Now, we are getting up that pass. We need to be over it and down the mountain by nightfall. Otherwise you’re going to have to fend off nightfliers. Do you want to fend off nightfliers when you could be sleeping? Or would you rather suck it up and get over that damn ridge?”

The man paled at the mention of nightfliers, a beast about three times the size of a bat that had a disturbing tendency of picking up its food and dropping it from a high altitude. It made it easier to get to the good parts on the inside.

“We’ll wait to take the break.” He turned and headed down to the last switchback where the rest of their party waited.

“Oh, and Kent.” Shea’s voice rose just loud enough for him to hear. “Please let them know that if anybody refuses to walk, I’ll leave them here to fend for themselves. Nightfliers aren’t the only things that roam this pass come nightfall.”

He gave her a look full of loathing before heading down to his friends. Shea kept her snicker to herself. Good things never happened when they thought she was laughing at them.

Idiot. As if pathfinders would abandon their charges. If that was the case, she would have left this lot behind days ago. There were oaths preventing that kind of behavior.

What she wouldn’t give to enjoy a little quiet time relaxing on the roof of her small home right about now.

They didn’t make it back to the village until early the next morning. Shea brought up the rear as their group straggled past the wooden wall encircling the small village of Birdon Leaf.

The village was a place that time had forgotten. It looked the same as it had the day it was founded, and in fifty years or a hundred, it’d probably still be the same. Same families living in the same homes, built of wood and mud by their father’s, father’s, father. Most of the buildings in the village were single story and one room. The really well off might have a second room or a loft. Nothing changed here, and they liked it that way. Propose a new idea or way of doing something and they’d run you out of town.

They didn’t like strangers, which was fine because most times strangers didn’t like them.

They tolerated Shea because they needed the skills her guild taught to survive. Shea tolerated them because she had to.

Well, some days she didn’t.

A small group of women and children waited to welcome the men.

A large boned woman with a hefty bosom and ash blond hair just beginning to gray flung her arms around a tall man with thinning hair.

“Where have you been? We expected you back yesterday morning.” She smothered his face with kisses.

“You know we had to keep to the pathfinder’s pace. The men didn’t feel it would be right leaving her behind just because she couldn’t keep up.”

There it was. Her fault.

Anytime something went wrong it was due to the fact she was a woman. Even looking less feminine didn’t help her. A taller than average girl with a thin layer of muscles stretching over her lean frame, Shea had hazel eyes framed by round cheeks, a stubborn mouth and a strong jaw-line she’d inherited from her father. Much to her consternation.

“What the guild was thinking assigning a woman to our village, I’ll never know,” the woman said in exasperation. “And such useless trail bait. They must have sent the laziest one they had.”

Trail bait. Dirt pounder. Roamer. Hot footed. Shea had heard it all. So many words to describe one thing. Outsider.

Shea turned towards home. At least she would have a little peace and quiet for the next few days. She planned to hide out and not see or talk to anyone.

Just her and her maps. Maybe some cloud watching. And definitely some napping. Make that a lot of napping. She needed to recharge.

“Pathfinder! Pathfinder,” a young voice called after her.

Shea turned and automatically smiled at the girl with the gamine grin and boundless enthusiasm racing after her. “Aimee, I’ve told you before you can call me Shea.”

Aimee ducked her head and gave her a gap toothed smile. She was missing one of her front teeth. She must have lost it while Shea was outside the fence.

“Pathfinder Shea. You’re back.”

Shea nodded, amused at the obvious statement. Of all the villagers in this backwoods place, Aimee was her favorite. She was young enough that she didn’t fear the wilds lying just beyond the safety of the barrier. All she saw was the adventure waiting out there. She reminded Shea of the novitiates that came every year to the Wayfarer’s Keep in hopes of taking the Pathfinder’s exam and becoming an apprentice.

“Um, did you see any cool beasts this time?” Aimee burst out. “Nightfliers, maybe? You said they liked to nest in the peaks around Garylow’s pass. What about red backs?”

“Whoa, hold up. One question at a time.” Shea took a piece of paper she’d torn from her journal last night in anticipation of this moment. “Here. I saw this one diving to catch breakfast yesterday morning.”

Shea handed her a sketching of a peregrine falcon in mid dive. It was a natural animal, but to a girl raised in a village where all non-domesticated animals were considered ‘beasts,’ it would seem exotic. Shea had sketched it during one of the numerous breaks the men had taken.

“Pathfinder Shea,” a woman said from behind them, disapproval coloring her voice. “The elders wish to speak to you.”

Shea’s smile disappeared as she schooled her face to a politeness she didn’t really feel. Aimee hid the drawing in her skirts.

The woman’s eyes shifted to Shea’s companion. “Aimee, my girl, your mother’s looking for you. I suggest you get on home.”

Aimee bobbed in place, suitably chastened and followed as the woman swept away, but not before aiming a small smile in Shea’s direction.

Shea lifted a hand and waved. Aimee had become something of Shea’s shadow in the past few weeks. It was a welcome change, given how most of the villagers pretended she didn’t exist or treated her with barely concealed hostility.

Shea looked woefully towards the tightly packed dirt trail leading to her little cottage. Her muscles ached and three days of grime and dirt coated her body.

She wanted a bath, a hot meal and then to sleep for twelve hours straight. She didn’t want to deal with the grumpy, blame-wielding elders who no doubt wanted things they couldn’t or shouldn’t have. But if she didn’t deal with them now, they would just show up and nag at her until she gave them her attention. They wanted something from her. Again. Better to deal with things now so she could have an uninterrupted rest later.

Her well-deserved break would have to wait

Her steps unhurried, she turned in the opposite direction of her bed. Even moving as slowly as she reasonably could, she quickly found herself in front of the town hall. It was also a pub and gathering place, basically anything the village needed it to be.

There were only two stone structures in the entire settlement. The town hall was the first and greatest, holding the distinction of being the only building large enough to shelter the entire village in the event of an attack. There was only one entrance, a heavy wooden door that could be barred from the inside. The thin slits in the upper levels kept attackers of both the four legged and two legged variety from slipping inside.

The building was the primary reason the founding families decided to settle here and was the village’s one claim to wealth. The rest of the village, small though it was, had sprung up around it as a result.

For a place as backwards and isolated as Birdon Leaf, the town hall was a majestic building they couldn’t hope to replicate. Even without the skills to maintain it, they were lucky. Some of the larger towns didn’t have a structure this versatile that could act as both gathering place and shelter from danger.

Shea reached the doors and paused to brush the dirt from the back of her trousers and make sure her thin shirt was tucked in and her dark brown, leather jacket was lying straight.

She smoothed a stray strand of honey brown hair behind her ear and ran her hand over her sloppy bun to make sure it was holding. Loose, her hair would reach past her shoulders in a wild mess. That’s why she tied it back for the most part, but no matter how many times she tried to tame it into a sleek bun, it would look like a bird’s nest by the time she walked five feet.

It was difficult to project confidence and professionalism when she wasn’t even the master of her own appearance.

Giving up the attempt to fix her appearance as futile, she braced her feet to open the painfully, heavy wooden door. It was a struggle to move it with just one arm, but she couldn’t afford to show the villagers weakness, or she would lose what little respect she had.

A slow creak announced its opening. She slipped through when there was just enough space before letting the door bang shut behind her.

Despite the bright day outside, it was dim in the town hall. The narrow windows let in little light. Candles flickered with merry abandonment from their place on tables and in bracers.

Wooden benches were stacked around the edges of the space. During meetings they were broken out so the villagers could have a place to sit while they jaw jacked. Today, several tables dotted the area. When the hall wasn’t used for meetings, village members used it as a place to meet and drink.

A group of five huddled around one table, their voices a low rumble in the large room. The middle-aged man with his back to Shea was Zrakovi, the village leader. He lifted a mug and drank, tilting back a head of dark hair turning silver at the temples. Shea came to a stop behind him, waiting for her presence to be acknowledged.

Another man looked up and nudged the man next to him. One by one the others shot glances to where Shea waited patiently.

Zrakovi turned his head slightly. “Pathfinder.”

“Elder Zrakovi.” Shea inclined her head respectfully.

“I have a job for you.”

“I just got back from an assignment.” Technically, she was supposed to get five days off between jobs to prevent fatigue and to give her time to plan the next route.

That almost never happened.

“Well, you’re needed for this,” he said sharply.

“Oh?”

“Watch your tone, girl,” a man with reddish blond hair and blunt features said.

Shea fought against sighing and held herself still. Expressing frustration would only prolong the encounter.

Silence filled the room as she waited for the elder to get to the point.

“My son.” He stopped and cleared his throat, shifting so he could look at her. “James and one other were supposed to return this morning from a run. I need you to find him and make sure they’re alright.”

Shea crossed her arms in front of her. “If I recall correctly, they were heading for the north reaches to gather lumpyrite for trade. That area should be safe. The beasts avoid it because of the mineral’s smell. They probably just got delayed. If they’re not back by nightfall, I’ll head out to look for them tomorrow morning.”

Shea had turned to go when Elder Zrakovi’s voice pulled her back. “They didn’t go to the north reaches.”

She stopped dead. Of course they hadn’t.

The villagers were supposed to check with her when they left the village so she could make sure the areas they traveled were safe. She dropped her head slightly while she schooled her expression back to neutrality. Only when her face showed a placid blankness did she face the men.

“Where did they go?”

“Below the Bearan Fault,” Zrakovi said gruffly.

“You mean the Lowlands,” Shea said, each word pronounced very precisely.

More than one man found themselves avoiding her eyes.

She shook her head slightly. Fools. The Bearan Fault was a line of cliffs nearly two hundred miles long. It was the gateway to the Lowlands.

Lowlanders were dangerous. Crazy too. Shea had dealings with them in the past, but it was always with one eye on the exit and a hand on her weapons. You just never knew what they were going to do.

One time, they had set fire to her clothes. While she was still in them.

She hated Lowlanders almost more than Highlanders.

“I told you not to send anybody into the Lowlands without me there to act as guide,” Shea said, her voice as polite as she could make it given the pulse pounding at her temple.

Zrakovi slammed his hand down on the table. “I won’t have my judgment questioned by a slip of a girl barely past her majority.”

“Then how about a Pathfinder with fifteen years’ experience who told you that heading to the Lowlands at this time without proper preparation and without a guide was too dangerous.”

Slip of a girl, her ass. Shea was twenty five and had been guiding folks since she was ten years old and could finally keep up with the adults.

“You were on assignment,” a thin man with stringy hair and a beak nose on the other side of the table complained. “We didn’t know when you would be back, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. This wouldn’t have happened if we had more than one pathfinder.”

Shea’s shoulders tightened and her back became even more rigid. “You’ve been told in the past that pathfinders are rare and in high demand. Your village is too small and too new to warrant more than one.”

“Too new? We’ve lived here for more than eighty years. More like we’re being punished,” one of the men muttered.

Shea took a deep breath and bit her tongue. She had to do that a lot while she was in Birdon Leaf. Sometimes she was amazed there wasn’t a hole in it.

The simplest explanation was that there just weren’t enough pathfinders to go round and none who wanted to destroy a promising career by coming to this backcountry village.

No. Shea was the one to receive that privilege.

“What village did they go to?”

If Shea was lucky they had chosen one of the more stable villages. Though just as dangerous as the rest, they usually had a reason before they went bat shit crazy.

“Edgecomb.”

She sucked in a breath. Well, then.

Edgecomb was crazier than most. They did not like outsiders and were very easy to insult.

“We had reports earlier,” another elder said gruffly. “Mist is rolling down from the eastern border. It’ll cover this place in less than two days. They’ll be cut off.”

Mist. Damn. That complicated things.

She’d had a feeling it was coming. It was one of the reasons she pushed the men so hard going up Garylow’s pass. They were overdue.

Pointing out just how foolish these people were would be a waste of breath and cover the same ground as previous arguments. Shea decided not to address the issue. But she wanted to. Boy, did she ever.

“I’ll need four men if we hope to recover them.”

“Can’t you do it by yourself?” a man sitting next to Zrakovi asked.

“No.”

“You’re a pathfinder. Isn’t that your job?”

The rest of the men spoke over each other to voice their agreement about how this was impossible.

Shea didn’t bother listening, instead tuning them out while she went over her packing list. She’d need at least five days rations for five people, best-case scenario. Her field pack was still packed, but she’d have to replenish some of the items used on her last journey. Hopefully, she had clean underwear and socks in her cottage. Hmm. When did she last do laundry? A week ago? Two? She could live in the same clothes if she had clean socks and undergarments.

“Are you even paying attention, girl?” Elder Zrakovi asked.

Shea brought her attention back to the matter at hand. “My contract stipulates that I may request help from the local population if I think it’s necessary.” She looked each man in the eye as she continued, “If your men are still alive, I will have to rescue them, and I can’t do that alone. You will give me four able-bodied men accustomed to trail work and able to keep up on the distances we will be required to travel.”

“We may not be able to spare that many men,” Zrakovi said. “The tali will be flowering in a few days and if the mist holds off long enough, we’ll need all the people we can get to bring in the yield.”

The tali was a flowering vine that grew all through the rocks and mountains near the village and was a primary staple of the village’s diet. Its stalk could be used in weaving and cloth production, while the fruit could be dried out or eaten raw. It was used in nearly every dish they made. It only flowered twice a year and during that time every man, woman, and child helped with the harvest.

“I’m not asking, elder. If you don’t give me the men I require, I won’t be going out after your son.”

Shea knew harvesting the tali fruit was important. Without it the villagers faced the possibility of starvation, but she wasn’t about to venture into the Lowlands by herself. It would be suicide. The elders had been warned of the dangers. If they couldn’t supply the men, they could accept the consequences of ignoring sound advice.

The five conferred among themselves while Shea waited. Finally, they sat back.

“I can’t give you four,” Zrakovi said.

Shea nodded and turned to go.

“I can’t give you four,” he reiterated, raising his voice. “But I can give you two. It’s all I can spare during the harvest.”

Shea waited a beat. To be safe she needed four, but she’d known from the start the elders wouldn’t spare the manpower. The contract’s wording said she could refuse since they hadn’t provided the necessary resources.

Doing so would mean death for the two men. If they weren’t already dead.

Despite what the villagers thought of her, she didn’t make her requests to make their lives difficult. James, the elder’s son, was one of the few who didn’t try to make her feel like a hindrance. He was a decent sort who had a smile for everybody. When she needed assistance on some of her more dangerous jaunts, he would sometimes volunteer.

She needed four, but she could make do with two.

“Tell them to be at the front gate at midday.”

Relief filled the chamber. A few looks were traded back and forth, and several men nodded.

“Good.” Zrakovi turned his back on Shea and took another drink. As she turned to go, he said, “I’ll be sending a missive requesting a new pathfinder be assigned to replace you in Birdon Leaf.”

“If that’s what you feel is best.” Shea inclined her head and strode away without a backward glance.

It would be the third such request since she arrived. The first two had elicited a carefully worded refusal that politely told all parties to suck it up and figure out a way to make it work.

As soon as she was outside, she put all thoughts of the elders and their barely concealed disapproval out of her head. There was a lot to get done in two short hours. Edgecomb was a two-day journey if they traveled fast and took few breaks. Depending on who they gave her, she might be able to cut that time down even more.

That wasn’t what worried her though. Last time she had scouted the route she’d noticed several of the more dangerous beasts had nested in some of the cliffs. This wouldn’t be a problem under normal circumstances because she could detour around the nests. This time, however, the quickest route skirted right along the edge of their territory.

She spent most of the next two hours securing supplies for her journey. Since they had to carry their own packs and would be on foot, every item had to be absolutely necessary. That meant no more food than necessary and just enough water to get them to the next watering hole. It was a delicate balancing act that required Shea to draw from previous experience as well as intuition.

Her last stop was her cottage, the only other stone building in the village. In many respects, it reminded Shea of the older ruins found deep in the Highland’s heart. It just had that feel to it. The kind of feeling that said it had been forgotten by time and man.

It was small. A grown woman could barely stand inside without bumping her head. The walls were close and cramped. Nature had threaded twisting vines through its stone walls in an attempt to reclaim the structure. In spring, it looked as if a blanket patterned with pinks, purples and blues had been wrapped around it as flowers bloomed on those vines. In winter, the unpatched holes gave little protection against the cold.

Shea loved it. Even when it was colder than a witch’s tit. Despite the neglect of humans, it persevered and even managed to be beautiful while existing in symbiosis with the land around it.

Nobody knew its past purpose. Regarding it with deep suspicion, the villagers allowed it to fade from their collective memory. Pretending it didn’t exist was easy as it was located at the rear of the village, close to the wall.

They gave it to Shea when she arrived because nobody wanted to live here and because, as an outsider, she was regarded with the same level of suspicion.

Shea held up a sixth pair of socks. Did she really need them? The route they were taking was relatively clear of any water. The weather had cooled as summer loosened its grip, and fall took its place. Still, it was vital to keep feet dry during a long journey and would be much more comfortable besides.

An extra pair of socks in her bag wouldn’t really make a difference but as packing progressed those little extras really added up.

The supplies ready and her bag packed, Shea slipped her arms through the two loops and lifted it onto her back. Bending forward, she tugged on the bottom of the straps, tightening the pack until it hugged her back and wouldn’t flop around while she was running.

She grabbed one of her maps off her desk and headed out the door. As always it took a few steps to get used to having a pack’s weight, but by the time she reached the front gate she was able to ignore it to focus on other matters.

She arrived at the front gate carrying her sack of supplies, mostly food, but some odds and ends. Two men watched her approach. One had taken a seat on an overturned bucket and was using his knife to peel a piece of fruit. The years had carved crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes and grooves around his mouth. His skin was leathery, and his brown hair was pulled back away from his face.

His companion was much younger, probably a little younger than Shea, with curly reddish-blond hair that barely reached his ears. His forehead was broad over sky blue eyes that made the girls in the village swoon every time he smiled at them.

“Witt. Dane.” Shea gave a respectful nod as she stopped in front of them. “You know why you’re here?”

Witt, the elder of the two, nodded and flicked a peel off his knife. Dane smiled at her, his eyes twinkling merrily. She’d worked with both before. Witt wasn’t so bad. Just surly. But he listened when she had something to say and was handy in a fight.

Dane might be a problem. He tended to flirt his way out of work and was under the impression that he knew more than he did. Too bad she couldn’t leave him behind this time. Unfortunately, he was good with a boomer and the only man in the village able to use one. She would need that if they ran into trouble.

“Good.” She set the supply sack on the ground and withdrew some rations, handing each man his share.

“This is barely a day’s worth of food,” Dane complained, holding up the meat wrapped in loaves of bread. “It’s not enough.”

“It is,” Shea corrected him. She held out two canteens of water to him and gave Witt the other two. “You’ll have to ration your supplies. There are several pieces of fruit in that bag as well as dried meat that you can eat while on the road. We’re traveling light this trip. We can’t afford any extra weight if we want to get to Edgecomb before mist fall.”

“What route are we taking?” Witt asked.

Shea pulled out her map and unrolled it carefully on the bucket Witt had just vacated. It was made from a sturdy stock of paper and drawn with a careful hand and an eye for detail. The geography of the land was done in blue, red and black ink with several closely drawn lines signaling elevation and further spaced lines meaning flatter land. It had been treated with a kind of oil to ensure the marks didn’t fade over time. Shea could still make corrections, but the treatment meant those could be erased with a bit of spit and elbow grease. It made it handy to make notes on various trails without permanently damaging the integrity of the map.

“This trail would get us to Edgecomb quickest,” Shea said, running her finger along the path in question. “But the last time I was up that way I noticed some signs that beasts had settled close to there.”

“What kind?”

“Red backs.”

Witt nodded grimly without taking his eyes from the map.

Red backs were a beast that walked on all fours for the most part. However, when killing, they rose onto their hind legs, and would tower over the tallest man in Birdon Leaf by several arm lengths. There were always two, usually mates, and they had claws that could cleave a man’s head clear off his shoulders. They were named for the red fur on their backs. The fur on the rest of their body was usually grey. Once they moved into a territory, they usually didn’t travel out of it unless prey became scarce.

“Who cares if there are red backs?” Dane said with the food still in his hands. “You just said we have to get to Edgecomb as fast as possible. If we run into any problems, we’ll just kill them. Their pelt fetches a nice price in the Lowlands.”

“Maybe you could flirt them to death, puppy,” Witt drawled, giving Dane a dismissive glance. Shea hid a grin. “Red backs are incredibly difficult to kill. A boomer’s lead won’t penetrate their hide. You have to get close, with knives or swords, and cut them open.” Witt stood and mimed a slash in demonstration. “They’re bigger than us, faster than us and one hit will crush your chest until you’re exhaling blood.”

Dane held Witt’s gaze, his mouth set in a disgruntled line before bending and picking up his pack. Shea kept her gaze focused on the map while Dane busied himself fussing with its straps.

Witt squatted down next to her. “I’d like to say the boy is entirely wrong, but if James and Cam were taken by Edgecomb, they don’t have a lot of time.”

Shea nodded and rolled the map up before sticking it in her pack. “No, they don’t. A day or two at most.”

“How long would the detour take?”

Shea quirked her mouth and shook her head slightly. “Depending on the trail sign, anywhere from a couple hours to half a day.”

“You’re the pathfinder so we’ll follow your lead.”

Witt stood and walked to his pack where he finished arranging the last of his supplies.

“I am the pathfinder.”

All that meant was that if she made the wrong decision, she would be the one with blood on her hands. She scrubbed a hand over her face and turned to the other two as they settled their packs on their backs. The long barrel of a boomer stuck up over Dane’s head from where it was attached to his pack. Witt’s weapons consisted of two short swords on either hip.

Looked like everybody was ready.

“Pathfinder.”

Shea turned to see Elder Zrakovi watching her sourly. Taller than her by a few inches, he was a burly man whose muscle was just beginning to turn to fat with age. She knew it must bother him to have his son’s fate resting in the hands of a woman he’d done his best to get rid of since she arrived.

“I trust that, despite our differences, you’ll do your job and bring my son back.”

She nodded shortly. The gate was raised just high enough for her group to walk under it.

“Don’t screw this up,” Zrakovi said as she passed under the gate.

She raised a hand in acknowledgement and adjusted her pack one last time before lengthening her stride to catch up with the other two.

There was one thing the elders had gotten right. Shea’s presence here was a punishment. But, it wasn’t them who was being punished.

Table of Contents

- Titlepage
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty One
- Chapter Twenty Two
- Chapter Twenty Three
- Discover More by T.A. White
- About the Author
- Pathfinder’s Way Excerpt
- Chapter One