20. Caliel

20

Caliel

I was as ready as I could be for the hammering on Slade's door.

I activated the digital recorder in my pocket—an interesting bit of tech from the human realm that managed to survive being transported through the gateway. Then I opened the door to Karst's thunderous face and another ridiculous waft of tasty muffin.

I would have been better off not able to smell at all.

"What the hell happened?" he snarled.

I did not know where he had been when we first returned—likely guarding Bree—but he was here now. I glared back at him and drew my lips off my teeth.

"They were tipped fucking off to us coming. Victor only allowed us to take ten mercs, and it was not enough. I was fortunate to get out of there fucking with my life."

He did the customary hesitation that I'd grown to understand meant that my speaking was off, and then his golden eyes narrowed. "Ten? Why would he have you take so few?" His confusion seemed to clarify something—if he'd been in on the trap, he would have known we'd been sent with too few mercenaries. But then he said, "Victor told me the merchant lost a bunch of his Dire mercs."

"How fascinating that Victor would know that."

We glowered at each other, and I was pretty sure I detected the merest hint of insecurity. At first, I assumed it was due to Victor's interference in the mission. But maybe, just maybe, he was worried I was angry enough to challenge him.

He had no idea that I could not shift form. Slade's beast must be formidable indeed, to give him pause.

"The loss of his mercenaries ought to have got the message adequately presented to our reluctant merchant," I said.

Karst stiffened, and I mentally cursed. I kept forgetting to add the occasional fuck.

So I said, "You are lucky I made it out of there fucking. As it is, we lost ten good mercenaries."

The fact that his lips still had not folded over those teeth showed his uncertainty, and I continued to push. "I needed more mercs to pull that job off. Why did he not give them to me?"

His snarl didn't alter, but he said, "I have no idea, but Victor has a lot on his mind at the moment."

I held my breath. "Like what?"

"Like that his fuckin' coalition is teetering, and now we have to fix it."

"What are you babbling about?" I pushed.

For a moment, I did not think he would answer. But then, he said, "We just received a report that the fuckin' Dragons he was supposed to take out are still alive."

My heart accelerated. Riggs's family. He had to be talking about them.

Dammit, we're right, Bree breathed. They're in all this together.

"Was it a reliable source?" I asked.

"Had an informant come to us," Karst growled. "Seemed credible. We paid well enough for it, so it had better be right. Said he saw them all himself. Told us they're raising an army."

How the hell did he know that? Bree sounded troubled.

I drew myself up to my full height. "That is not on me. Victor and Finn were the ones who were supposed to finish them off."

"Yeah, well, shit travels downhill," Karst growled with a distinct lack of fatherly concern. "If you don't fuckin' know that, you shouldn't be running the show."

"Are you sure they are alive?" I pressed.

"Wasn't. But the lead Dragon sent word that he has now seen two of them himself."

I took a deep breath. He had not used any names, and I needed one. "I bet Daize is rather annoyed."

Karst did not even blink. "Annoyed doesn't cut it. Victor's so pissed that no one wants to get near him right now. Except that bitch Aurora, and that trio of demented misfits. They've only got a couple of hours to cool him down, if we want to save all this damned work."

Victor must be meeting with Daize, Bree breathed. And your use of profanity still needs work, but it seems to be doing the trick.

I cursed—partly to impress her—and then I focused. Now was my chance, but things were about to go ballistic here. Victor's meeting was destined to be delayed.

"Another fucking will not solve it," I stated. "Daize needs them dead."

"Victor will have to smooth things over until we can complete our end of the bargain," Karst snarled. His gaze fastened on me, and I saw the calculation with it. "Be ready to go when I call." Then he turned and stalked out the door.

I sniffed as it closed behind him. Faugh, I had never been a big fan of dindric muffins. But I needed in on that meeting. I played back the recording. It was not much on its own—Slade's father had not actually confirmed any of my baited statements—but it would help bolster the case.

I glanced over to the bed, where I had some of Tez's feathers hidden beneath the covers. I had spent the hours since our return distributing them all over the stronghold. From the meeting where I might get the proof we needed, to getting Bree out of here—these next few hours were going to either sink us, or set us free.

You are playing with fire. The Priests are bloody dangerous. Bree's mindvoice was now barely a whisper, and I had to strain to hear it.

It is our best chance to get you out, I insisted. Not that she wasn't right. Using the Priests as a distraction was a risky plan.

I don't want to go if we are leaving you behind, she protested.

You have to go now, I replied. Or it will be too late. Your Drake is becoming too strong.

She paused, and then asked, How are you taking off the collar?

I am not. We have a cutter for the chain. Tez has it with him. My accomplice had spent the last few hours putting everything in place for this effort, while I hid the feathers.

She barely paused for a mental breath. I don't want to leave without you, she protested .

I inhaled, deeply. I am not leaving until I get the proof, but I will not be far behind you.

Victor wants you dead.

It was true. It did seem that the underlord wanted Slade dead. But it did not change the facts. I will not have to stay long. And then I added, I cannot focus if I am worrying about you.

She subsided, but I sensed her pacing in her cell. The Ice Drake was increasingly difficult to subdue. Bree needed to get out of here.

Unfortunately, I was also living on borrowed time. My control over Slade's body had not improved. My standing up to his father had been a bluff—I could not shift form. He could have sliced me to ribbons. If I could not get that proof soon, my weakness would be discovered.

I moved again to the window. I had propped it open to the humid night air, and as I stood there, I heard the first cry of alarm from one of the lookout towers.

I smiled. Prepare to fly, my little wind dancer.

I cannot fly, she whispered, without you .

That is where you are wrong, I answered. You will fly again, I promise you.

As I left the room, I sensed her fear. Not for herself. But for me.

There was little I could do to reassure her. It mattered naught, so long as Tez got her out of here.

Another scream sounded from outside.

It had begun.