7. Baelfire

Silas steps up beside Maven,looking as possessive and pissed as I feel. He"s gripping his bleeding crystal, gaze darting about mistrustfully at anyone nearby. Though we"re out of everyone"s earshot, that doesn"t stop them from staring. The tension in the ballroom is thick enough to taste since everyone is on edge after the Immortal Quintet"s announcements.

"Were you just flirting with that legacy, sangfluir?" Silas demands.

Maven shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly, but the expression on her face as she lifts her glass back to her perfect lips is full of warning.

"I can flirt with anyone I want."

"Like hell you can," I grit.

She takes a sip, and I bite back a groan as I watch the muscles of her throat work.

When I spotted my mate across the dance floor earlier, I thought I had accidentally wandered into my own personal wet dream. The dress she"s wearing shows off her shoulders, back, and most of her legs—though she"s still wearing her kick-ass black combat boots, which is cute as fuck. Whoever did her makeup added sultry touches around her enchanting eyes and dark lipstick that I'm fantasizing about having smeared all over me.

The result is that my dick doesn"t stand a chance. I"m rock-hard gazing at this dark queen.

Mine, mine, mine,my inner dragon growls.

Yeah, she is.

Except she was just fucking flirting with someone else.

Everett starts to say something, but Maven downs the rest of her drink and cuts him off, skirting around all three of us.

"If you"re done with this caveman performance, could you point out who Collins is? I"d like an orgasm or two, and apparently, that incubus throws a lot of orgies."

Blistering wrath scalds my insides at the idea of anyone outside our quintet giving Maven pleasure. Before I can get myself under control, I grip the back of the choker built into Maven"s dress and use it to turn her around, snarling, "Don"t even think about it."

Instead of the fury that I expect to flash across her face, Maven"s dark eyes glitter, and she smirks.

Fucking smirks.

Oh, shit. My sadistic little wet dream is doing this on purpose. This is her way of putting us through the wringer and getting even.

My heart pounds as I twist my grip in the back of her dress tighter, need for her making my cock hard as fucking steel in my suit pants.

"You enjoying this, baby? Tell me, how wet does it make your panties knowing you"re torturing us?"

"Hard to tell when I"m not wearing any."

Fuck. Me.

Knowing I could lift up her fluttering skirt and find her pussy bare and ready makes me groan. Silas looks equally tortured from where he stands behind her. His hand slips up to tangle in the back of her hair until we"re both gripping our cruel little caster to keep her in place.

When he tugs on the dark hair at the nape of her neck, Maven"s eyes grow slightly hooded as she gazes up at me. I catch a hint of her addictive, delicate scent and wrap my other hand in the top layers of her skirt, swallowing tightly as the needy tension hums between us.

Gods, I want her. I want to get her alone, rip this damn dress off of her, and see how she punishes me for it.

"No panties, huh? Sounds like you want my tongue between your pretty thighs instead. Say the word, and we"ll show you just how fucking real this has always been, Mayflower. No bets or games."

She blinks. "Mayflower?"

"You said Boo is out," I shrug. "Had to find another one."

"And comparing me to a delicate little flower was your second choice?" She shakes her head as much as Silas allows her to. "I said no more nicknames."

Silas presses his lips against her hair. "Let us apologize to you the way I know you"re craving, sangfluir. You"ve resisted long enough. Admit that you want this, and stop fighting us."

His quiet words break her out of this intoxicating moment. She moves away to glare at all three of us since Everett is lingering. If looks could kill, we"d all drop dead at Maven"s feet.

"I'll make this crystal clear. I"m temporarily playing along as your keeper because I have limited options. This is only an act for me, just like it was an act for you four to see who could fuck me the fastest. Consider this an allegiance of convenience because I want nothing to do with any of you. Now leave me alone. There"s someone I need to track down."

Our keeper storms away, leaving me reeling and my inner dragon snarling in rebellion at her words. The last thing I want is for her to track down that fucking incubus and try to join his orgy.

Silas murmurs, "That was a lie. When she said she wanted nothing to do with us, she was lying."

"How do you know?"

He smirks. "Maven has a tell that I just figured out. Come on."

All three of us weave through the mass of dancing, talking legacies as we follow after her. I ignore the stares following us. My entire life, I"ve been paraded around as the miracle golden child of the last line of dragon shifters, so I'm used to drawing attention.

But my teeth clench when Iker Del Mar suddenly steps in front of me, stopping me from following after Silas.

Damn it. This won"t be good.

"I"ve always wanted to meet Brigid Decimus"s youngest son," he rumbles.

I dip my head respectfully, slipping on a charming smile even though I"m well the fuck aware that the Immortal Quintet can"t stand my mother. Actually, as revered as my family is for how useful we are at the Divide, we Decimuses get into a shitload of trouble with the Immortal Quintet and Legacy Council all the time. It"s because they like to keep such careful control of everything, manipulating the other high-profile legacy families by pulling on their strings, but we dragons are stubborn as hell.

My mom"s always said that she"d rather we all be dead than blindly obedient.

All four of my older siblings have warned me that if I ever meet any of the Immortal Quintet, they"ll automatically try to establish dominance over me because they love the idea of finally getting a Decimus to roll over and show its belly.

Not fucking happening.

"It"s an honor to meet you, sir," I lie. "But if you"ll excuse me, I really need to catch up with?—"

"Not so fast," he cautions.

This monster gives me the heebie-jeebies. His pupils are like pinpricks in the pale yellow of his irises, and the horns and scales don"t help him look any better. My inner dragon tenses, snarling as the hydra sizes us up.

Even though I"d love to flip him off and race after Maven, I stay polite. "Something I can help with?"

His smile is without warmth, showing off his pointed teeth. "More like something I can help you with. A gracious warning, if you will. Know that any students found stepping out of line will be severely punished. Pedigree and family pride will not excuse them. Dragons are only valuable assets if they can heed direction. Remember that."

Okay then. This fucker just threatened me and insulted my family all at once.

I bare all my teeth with my next smile. "Noted."

Then I turn my back on him and stalk toward the edge of the ballroom, keeping my eye out for Silas or Maven. When I catch a whiff of coppery burnt herbs that is unmistakably Silas and not some other blood fae, I follow his scent out of the Matched Ball completely, into one of the empty grand hallways.

A moment later, I turn into another dim corridor and find Everett standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face, watching Maven and Silas in the middle of a heated argument. They would be nose to nose if it weren"t for the fact that Silas is almost a foot taller than her.

"Then ask," Silas snaps in reply to whatever she said before I walked in. "Fucking ask me if it was all a show, Maven. You know I can"t lie."

As I approach, her gaze darts to me, but she shakes her head stubbornly.

"I don"t care if it was a lie. This isn"t just about the bet. I already told you back in Pennsylvania?—"

"What, that you"re trying to protect us?" I growl, recalling her confession about her blood oath and claiming that she was rejecting us to keep us safe. "I want you, Maven, not your motherfucking protection. I"m a grown-ass dragon, and I can handle myself. So what if the anti-legacy movement says we shouldn"t be together? If that"s all you"re worried about?—"

She cuts me off with a harsh scoff. "All I"m worried about? You think the anti-legacy movement is the worst thing out there? Not even fucking close."

"Then enlighten us," Silas hisses angrily, pressing forward. The closer he gets, the more Maven looks torn between backing away and holding her ground. "What exactly is keeping you from accepting that we want you? Why are you fighting this so hard? What is the big, terrible secret that you think we can"t handle? Tell the godsdamned truth."

Maven"s temper flares as she looks between all of us. "Fine. You want to know why I"m fighting this so hard? It"s not because of your juvenile bet. That hurt like hell, yet for reasons only the assholes in Paradise understand, I still want you—all of you. But I'm literally a fucking dead end for you four idiots, so get it through your thick heads that I just can't."

She wants us.

She wants me.

Now that I know that, I"m not holding back. Fierce determination sets in.

"Yes, you can," I growl, moving closer to her. "You want us, baby? We"re already yours. Our hearts will be bound to yours, and it"s that fucking simple."

Helpless anger colors her voice. She shakes her head like she"s at the end of her rope and is desperate to make us see what the problem is.

"This is not simple. You"re not getting it. We can"t be bound, and I can't break your fucking curses because I don"t have?—"

Abruptly, she cuts off with a pained gasp, her hands flying to her chest. Terror has me forgetting all about the no-touching rule, and I immediately pull her against my chest when her knees collapse and her face twists in pain.

My mate. In pain.

I go into full panic mode.

"Maven? Fuck, what"s happening, baby—is it the poison? Is it back?" I ask, my hands going to cover hers where she"s clawing at her torso.

Her eyes are squeezed tight. "Gods. Not right now. Please, not right now," she gasps, sounding strangled.

"What"s happening?" Everett demands sharply, crowding closer as the temperature around us plummets. "Maven?"

Silas cradles her face and tries to catch her eye, his eyes wide. "Is it that you can"t breathe? Baelfire?—"

Before he can even finish the order, I rip open the front of her dress, desperate to help her get air into her lungs. But it"s useless. All it does is show us that there is nothing visibly wrong with her perfect chest. The jagged, pale scar between her breasts is unmarred.

"I"m fine," Maven tries to insist, but the strain in her voice is pure agony. She clenches her teeth and tries to bat our hands away but suddenly goes limp.

"Maven?" I shout, my dragon beating on the inside of my head as horror overwhelms me. "Maven!"

Silas pulls out his bleeding crystal and slashes it deeply across his palm. The red flare of blood magic, combined with more smell like burnt copper, fills the dim hallway, illuminating the harsh planes of his face as he tries to heal her chest. I hold my breath, staring at my gorgeous mate motionless in my arms.

For the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours, that horrible image comes back to me: my mate lying in a pool of blood, the scent of her tinged with poison and pain.

No, no, no, no?—

While I"m still spiraling, Everett swears and takes Maven out of my arms before rushing down the hall.

"Where are we taking her?" I demand, keeping up. If it didn"t feel like my entire world just turned sideways, I would beat the hell out of him for holding her when he"s the last person in a never-ending line of people she wouldn"t want touching her.

"To the healers," he mutters. "Because Silas is fucking useless."

Silas scowls as he catches up. "I don"t understand. My magic absolutely refuses to work with her. It"s almost as if?—"

He cuts off, looking like a train of thought has taken him to a dark place. I don"t bother asking what his new theory is because I"m too busy noticing how pale and cold my mate looks.

A minute later, I burst through the double doors and stride into Everbound"s lengthy infirmary. Hundreds of years ago, when this castle was first built, it was a chapel devoted to the gods. Now, gone are the pews and priests. Instead, the intricate purple-and-white stained glass windows serve as a backdrop for dozens of empty sickbeds, counters filled with spell ingredients and medicines, and two chattering casters dressed in white. They jump in surprise as we walk in.

Everett is cradling Maven like he"s afraid the air around us will hurt her, and I notice the frost climbing up to his elbows. He"s losing his shit over this, just like the rest of us, which makes no fucking sense.

"What"s going on?" one of the healers chirps in surprise.

"Heal her," Silas demands as Everett lowers Maven onto one of the sickbeds, adjusting the blanket with shaking hands to cover her naked upper half. "Now."

The healers exchange glances but quickly gather around Maven to look for signs of injury. Their proximity to my mate sets off my dragon"s temper, and he lashes out against my control, wild and savage.

Mark her. Claim her. Covet her.

I grip the side of my head as splitting pain rocks through it, trying to fend off the shift he tries to force. The stupid lizard doesn"t understand that now is not the fucking time to pin Maven down and mark her as mine. I really need to kill something before he strong-arms me into crossing her lines even more than I already have. Or worse, if he forces me to shift when I"m too close to her and she ends up getting hurt.

When the agony of refusing a shift finally recedes from my muscles, I see one of the healers reaching towards Maven and snap, "Don"t fucking touch her. She doesn"t like to be touched."

"We have to check her vitals. I promise we"ll be very careful with her."

That promise doesn"t help. I"m still filled with distress when the healer checks for her pulse, a frown pulling at his lips. He then leans down as if to press his ear to her chest, which has my dragon seeing red.

But before the healer can make contact with Maven, the Nightmare Prince emerges into existence beside us, grabs both healers by their necks, and vanishes in the blink of an eye. So do they. And when Crypt reappears from Limbo, both healers are dead. One still has his eyes frozen wide open in acute horror as if before he died, he saw shit that broke him. The other looks like he was slashed to threads and bones.

It all happened so fast that I"m still processing. Everett looks equally stunned, but Silas snarls, "What the fuckare you doing? We needed them to help Maven, you psychotic bastard!"

Crypt kicks aside one of the corpses, his face murderous as he stalks toward Silas.

"No, what are you doing? Where"s your overdeveloped sense of paranoia when we need it? She told me to let no one heal her. It wasn"t a polite suggestion, Crane. She must have a reason to avoid the healers here, so I don"t fucking trust them. You shouldn"t have, either."

"I wasn"t trusting them. If they made a wrong move, I would have killed them just as quickly," Silas seethes. "But now look at her. She"s not breathing, Crypt—she has no godsdamned pulse! My magic refuses to interact with her, so what are we going to do now? Did you think of that before killing people who could have potentially helped her?"

I go numb. Maven isn"t breathing. She has no pulse. Which means…

"He made the right call," a gentle voice says, interrupting their furious argument.

We all look over as a familiar white-veiled figure steps forward, entering the old gothic chapel from a concealed entrance near the old pew. I blink at the sight of the prophetess who was at the Seeking, realizing she must be one of the people from Galene"s temple that Iker Del Mar had mentioned would be here.

What was her name again? Pay-Pay? Pie?

"Prophetess Pia," Everett greets her, his tone formal but guarded. He glances at the dead bodies on the floor. "About this?—"

She waves off his concern with an elegant, white-gloved hand. "As I said, your incubus made the right call. I fear they would have learned something about your keeper that would have been reported to the Immortal Quintet right away. Now, step away from her. I will take it from here."

It"s odd not to see her face under all that white fabric. But even though I"m wary as hell about this mysterious prophetess, my inner dragon goes uncharacteristically quiet and calm as she approaches, as if he has no problem with her being around our mate.

Fine. I"ll trust the asshole"s judgment for now. But if she harms a single fucking hair on Maven"s head, there will be one more corpse bleeding on the ground.

Pia laughs lightly, her head turning in my direction. "A guard dragon, are you?"

Fuck.

She"s a mind reader—or a seer. Something like that.

The others must come to the same conclusion because Silas grips his bleeding crystal tighter, and Everett stiffens. The Nightmare Prince"s eyes narrow as he watches Pia sit on the bed beside Maven, her hands hovering over my mate"s chest but making no contact. A faint light radiates around Pia"s hands, but otherwise, there"s no obvious magic happening.

"You have no aura," Crypt notes in a precarious tone. "Every living thing has an aura."

She doesn"t reply, moving her hand over Maven"s head. We all watch in tense, perplexed silence. Finally, Silas rounds the bed to see Maven"s face better, and his brow furrows.

"You said the healers would have learned something about her and reported it to the Immortal Quintet. What did you mean?"

Pia"s tone is gentle. "You already have your suspicions about her nature. And the incubus is much closer to the truth."

My gaze darts to Crypt. "What the hell is she talking about? What do you know?"

Crypt doesn"t even acknowledge my question. Clearly, he"s not about to tell us anything.

Silas studies Maven at length before speaking slowly, hesitantly. I can practically see the gears turning in his paranoid head.

"She has no heartbeat. She didn"t earlier, either. And when I was trying to heal her of the poison, I found a bottle of nightshade root powder in one of her pockets. That substance is all but impossible to get—the Legacy Council has made it entirely illegal. Why would a human-raised atypical caster go to the trouble of getting that?"

The question hangs in the air as Pia finishes healing Maven and straightens. I stare at Maven hard until I see her chest rise and fall, and relief hits me so hard that I have to sit down on one of the other empty beds.

Thank the gods. She"s breathing.

Silas rubs his jaw as he goes on. "The dagger we found in Headmaster Hearst"s office was made of adamantine."

"So?" I ask.

"Do you know how rare that metal is? It"s what the weapons of the most powerful shadow fiends that make it into the Divide are made out of. Legacies don"t use adamantine, and no one in the mortal world knows how to forge it, so how did that dagger end up in that office?"

I pull a face, but Everett seems to be catching onto whatever I"m missing because he abruptly looks even paler than usual.

"You think that dagger is Maven"s?"

"Who cares if it is?" I snap. "Look, maybe one of the anti-legacy cultists who raised her picked up the dagger in the Divide or something. It doesn"t matter."

Silas glares at me. "Yes, it does. If Maven"s weapon is from the Nether, she"s on a mysterious mission, and she doesn"t have a godsdamned heartbeat…"

I stare at him long and hard. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"You know exactly what I"m saying."

Everett stares down at Maven again, his voice barely audible even by my standards. "Do you remember, years ago, when several humans were put to death by the Legacy Council?"

That had been huge news in the world of legacies because they kept why they did that classified. Even I heard about it and I was eight.

"Yeah, so? I don"t see what that has to do with?—"

"It was because they claimed the Nether was taking in humans and keeping them alive."

He looks between the three of us meaningfully, and even Crypt frowns.

Immediately, I shake my head. "No. That doesn"t make any fucking sense. Maven manifested as a caster a few weeks ago, and she"s part of some kind of anti-legacy cult. She told us that herself."

Silas pins me with a look. "Did she, though? She never said it outright."

I open my mouth to argue and then hesitate, realizing he"s right.

"Damn it. She was just trying to deter us again," Everett murmurs. "That"s all she"s tried to do since we met her. I should"ve figured that out sooner."

I"m still shaking my head in denial, but then certain things click into place. Maven being so technologically impaired. Her delight in anything macabre. The way she had stared wide-eyed at everything in that cozy little town in Pennsylvania like it was from an alien planet. How hell-bent she has been on pushing her matches away, trying to get us to appeal for another keeper, insisting that she was all wrong for us.

The momentary confusion that had been on her face when Crypt had asked if she was part of the anti-legacy movement, right before she nodded.

You guys have no fucking idea how bad it would be to be bound to me. I"m protecting you idiots.

I refuse to drag you four down with me.

I"m your enemy.

All her past words swim in my head until I cover my face. "Holy shit."

My mate is from the Nether.