Text Bubbles

Isla woke to a series of dainty pings from her phone and fumbled under her pillow,

which was her usual place for it. When one roved through innumerable hotel suites, living out of a suitcase even during brief stops at home, one never knew which side to reach for the bedside table. So … pillow. But no phone.

She propped up on elbows and pushed rampant curls out of her eyes. Another departure from her normal routine. Ever since Uncle Jackie had coaxed her into accepting the most miraculous of oils and a soft cap for sleeping, her hair was better behaved. But she could tell at a touch that it was a fright. And all at once she recalled why.

Because there were rings on her fingers.

And a dragon lord on the chaise lounge.

Lapis had spent half the night running his fingers through her hair—hence its current disarray—his slow kisses curling her toes. She’d liked that almost as much as the breathy sighs and low hums she’d wrested from him. Yet he sat there, arrayed in fresh silks, clan colors ascendant, calmly reading.

He spared her an assessing look, then lifted a packet. “Do you want to read these yourself? Or do you trust my ability to abridge down to the most pertinent points?”

Council business. He’d moved on to work.

“Umm. Just a mo, and I’ll take a look.”

With a nod, he went back to reading, and she caught up a few items of clothing and tried to scamper in a dignified way into the bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, she resigned herself to the full hair-washing routine.

Her thoughts spun and tangled. What had she done?

She’d flirted with Lapis. Encouraged his attentions. Played at courting games, then tried to seduce him. They’d been in bed together, and yet … well, things had gone far enough that there was no going back. She’d never be able to look Lapis in the eye without remembering. She’d been curious, and he’d been accommodating. And intent. And so intense. Of course Isla would be swept away. And of course dragons would be sexy. They probably couldn’t help themselves.

Oh. How long had she been standing under the spray, staring at the ceiling?

Had Lapis noticed? He’d be able to hear from the next room. He could also probably get a read on her mood. He knew her so well, knew she needed time to think. He was giving her space. Time to process. Time to come to terms with her own stupidity. Or stubbornness. Or willful blindness.

His declarations were staggering.

And she’d put up no resistance.

And yet her wards were intact. She couldn’t detect any of the bonds that were described in lore or textbooks or even in recent journal articles covering the phenomenon of interspecies mating bonds. Which was the next logical step.

And yet … he hadn’t tried. So this was a tryst?

What were his exact words, back at the beginning?

She couldn’t seem to recall. Was dragon sway in play? Isla knew she wasn’t susceptible, but clearly she could be distracted by beautiful males who used courting gifts and games in convincing ways.

Finishing up, she wrung and toweled and started to dress. Partway through, she cracked the bathroom door and called, “Lapis?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“What are we?”

“Somewhat behind schedule.”

She cast about for her phone, but it wasn’t close to hand. “I can’t miss my flight!”

“We are only somewhat behind. Not entirely late.” Lapis calmly invited, “Come and have some breakfast.”

“Is there time?”

She pulled on standard-issue breeches and a tunic in diplomatic green, then skimped with her hair and skin care in ways that Uncle Jackie would have tutted over. “Don’t you have a flight?”

“Not until evening. I’ve that congressional luncheon, followed by an interview and photoshoot for the Emergent.”

It took mere minutes to repack her things and zip her case. Draping the garment bag with her gown over it, she patted distractedly at her pockets and asked, “Phone?”

“Here. Beside your teacup.” He filled it, then summarized the information from Canarian’s staff. Which somehow led to questions about the manuscript she’d traded back to him. And a completely unnecessary reminder that Argent would be filling in for Hisoka for her next appearance. “He’ll already be there when you arrive. In Iceland.”

She didn’t like it.

How could Lapis be treating her so normally?

Plucking up her phone, she quickly scanned her emails and checked the most urgent messages. There was something from Papka and a message from Tsumiko. Probably Dichotomy Day greetings. She’d answer them once she was through airport security.

“Isla?”

She pushed away the plate he fixed for her and stood, though there wasn’t really anything left to do. Except … leave. But she didn’t want that, either. So she collected her share of the mail and spent too long straightening the pile. Why was she disappointed? After an evening filled with romance and foolish games and thrilling caresses, did everything have to go back to how it always was?

“Isla.”

His hand caught hers, bringing her attention to the rings that still sparkled on her fingers, then to sapphire eyes that were suddenly very close. “In my efforts to make you more comfortable, have I managed to make you uncomfortable? How clumsy of me. I do apologize.”

“Right. Well. I mean … it all seems so far away. Those things. That happened.”

“Those things are neither far nor in the past.” Lapis gently inquired, “Am I not right here? Is that not yet enough? I am quite willing to recapitulate.”

His kiss lingered light upon her lips, giving her room to escape, but when she let the right moment for a rebuff pass, his hold shifted, and then there was silk and hot skin under her hands, and … right then. So Lapis was willing to kiss her silly while breakfast went cold.

When he eased back enough for her to see how pleased his smile was, she asked, “I didn’t imagine it?”

“Can you be more specific?”

“This.”

“Charmingly vague.” His hand pressed to the small of her back, and it was the easiest thing in the world to arch against him. Like a dance. Like lovers might do. He hummed approvingly.

She wanted more. “May I tend you?” she blurted.

Lapis immediately turned pensive.

Isla saw how inappropriate her question might be, asking for intimacies that skipped past the physical, opening the path to permanence. It was probably her right to ask for proof that this wasn’t dalliance, but she also knew that he’d been Broken once. And that he abstained.

Worse, what if he thought she wanted him for his years. He had to know she wasn’t that kind of woman.

“Not today, my dear. I will want to. I will. But there are things I should tell you first. So that you understand why I was … the way I was.”

She’d tried not to speculate about Lapis’s status as one of the Broken. It was impolite to ask in the first place, and all of his answers would probably expose something he’d rather forget. She knew stories. Amaranthine could become addicted, which led to excesses. Or they were mishandled, misguided, misappropriated. It always came down to greed and sadness and tragedy, with bitter consequences. If not for Tenma, Lapis would still be stricken.

“Isla.” Lapis touched her hair, finding his pins tucked amidst her curls. “You may have my every secret, even the woeful ones. But there is no time to satisfy your formidable curiosity at this juncture. Indeed, I doubt you would thank me for making you late. Or for taking advantage of last night’s reckless abandon.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Neither of us likes that trope. Though my disdain is now tempered by sympathy. I barely resisted. And I doubt my restraint will last must longer.” Brushing his lips across her parted ones, he warned, “Keep your wits about you, dear heart. I am in pursuit.”

Isla fretted. How could she not? Even though the Office of Ingress had sent a car, they were stranded in traffic. She couldn’t tell if they were in the middle of the morning rush or if this was holiday traffic. Dichotomy Day was finally gaining in popularity in America, and official celebrations involved a skywatching extravaganza. Brake lights flashed, and people leaned out of car windows as a herd of enormous horses—Thunderhoofs by their coloring—galivanted overhead.

While en route to the airport, they were similarly delayed by a flight of heralds trailing streamers and the languid flight of a lone dragon that she would have sworn was Lord Shywind, simply out for a stroll.

As they were now in public, Lapis kept to his side of the car, radiating contentment despite the risks they were taking. There was no good reason for him to accompany her to the airport, and yet he insisted on seeing her off.

Would there be paparazzi?

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Isla quietly slipped Lapis’s ring into her mouth. Just in case he wanted another private-in-public kiss.

Belatedly, she realized she could have been responding to messages, and she checked her phone. As soon as she did, a new message popped up. From Uncle Boniface.

Since that was out of the ordinary, she tapped it first.

Miss Ward, may I beg a moment of your time?

I’m here.

I am but a humble messenger

With something to pass along

Are you familiar with a young chap

Two hundred twenty-two, as was

Goes by Oracle now

For official matters

Of which this is apparently one

I’m sorry, who is with you, please?

222?

Twosies

Isla did seem to recall there being a lot of numerical labeling among the children Sensei had helped to rescue from that awful island.

One of the children. A crosser?

Indeed, yes

Bright boy

Very articulate

Very insistent

And he has something to say to me?

Here’s the first bit

Word for word

“Do not forget again. These words are true.”

She frowned, and her gaze flicked up to where Boniface had given the boy’s name. Oracle? Was this meant to be some kind of prophecy?

Uncle Boniface’s next message arrived with all the subtlety of a slap.

“Hisoka will never call you to his side.”