19

I hate being still this long. For hours I've been coiled up in the bedroom, afraid to move my tail or wings an iota lest I smash something.

Meridian said he would come and fetch me shortly before our meeting with the King of Vohrain. I wish we could get out of it. Sitting with Rahzien at a table, talking about diplomatic affairs and alliances, feels both sickeningly familiar and incredibly dangerous, especially since my knowledge of Zairos is thin at best. But negotiating with the King is a vital part of my assumed identity. The meeting can't be avoided. I can only hope it won't last long, and that Meridian can run interference for me if I run out of things to say.

Perhaps it's best that Hinarax won't be there. Charming though he is, he can be careless, and his presence would double the risk of discovery.

The door to my chamber opens, and Meridian enters, flanked by Odrash and Kehanal. All three of them look displeased .

"Apparently Aeris left," says Meridian, in a tone sharp with weariness and frustration. "Do you know where she went?"

"She knows of a sorcerer who may be able to neutralize the poison in Serylla's body," I reply.

"She shouldn't have left without speaking to me first. We need her. If things go wrong today—"

"I'll do my best to protect you," I finish.

Meridian snorts. "One dragon against dozens of guns? You could cause some damage, but you wouldn't last long."

"When we first made this arrangement, you seemed to have more faith in me."

"That was before I saw how many guns they have. And they're manufacturing replacement gun barrels and a new kind of ammunition for better accuracy. I have plans in place to counteract that, but those plans are not yet ripe. I need more time."

"We believe Rahzien is going to turn Elekstan into a base of operations for his next conquest," says Odrash.

"What nation do you think he'll attack next?" I ask.

"Tekkesh, to the west."

Kehanal speaks up. "We have to kill him now, before he begins another campaign."

"He won't, not until Elekstan is stabilized," Meridian says. "Which could be a year or more, if he's counting on producing an heir with the Princess."

Odrash slams a palm onto the dresser next to him. "Doesn't matter. We need to act now. We've never gotten this close. We won't have access like this again. Every passing hour carries more risk of discovery, and then we'll be killed or imprisoned. The plan is falling apart, can't you see that? We smuggled two dragons into the palace, and they were supposed to help us take over—but now one is gone, and the other is practically useless."

Meridian turns slowly, with such force in the gaze of his one blue eye that Odrash moves back a step .

"We made a bargain," says Meridian grimly, "that we'd help the dragon save his princess in exchange for the treasure and for his assistance in bringing down Rahzien. The plan and the timeline may have changed, but the deal hasn't."

"Look, I like the Princess. I do," replies Odrash. "But she is one person. We need to take down Rahzien, and if her life is the price, I say it's tragic, but necessary."

My head lowers, snaking toward him on my long neck. "And where does that leave me?" I hiss, exhaling fiery breath in his face. "The Princess is the only reason I'm here, the only reason I don't gobble you up right now. Threaten her, and you threaten me. Killing the King destroys her. And if she dies, I will ensure that before I perish, I'll have the pleasure of seeing your body dance and shrivel in my flames."

"Now, now, there's no need for such talk." Meridian steps between Odrash and my smoking nostrils. "I see your point, Odrash, I do. And Kyreagan, you must understand that we're looking out for our people, our nation. You said yourself, you've done terrible things to ensure your clan's survival—"

"And it might all be for nothing," I snarl. "They might all be dead now. We made a mistake, trusting Vohrain, and we're paying for it. I have lost everything, do you understand? Everything. And by the Bone-Builder, I refuse to lose the one thing I have left. Serylla is all that matters to me. As long as there is hope of saving her, you will not touch the King."

"We'll wait." Meridian nods to me, then gives the other two rebels a firm look. "Won't we, boys? We'll wait another day or so, and see if we can't disentangle the Princess from the King, yes? And then we'll revisit the matter."

Grudgingly they agree and shuffle out of my chamber. The moment they leave, Meridian's shoulders slump with exhaustion, and he limps past my wingtip, over to a chair. He sinks into it with a groaning sigh .

"Where were you?" I ask. "After you saw Hinarax off, where did you go?"

"Well… he and I had a short farewell interlude." Meridian clears his throat. "And then I went to entertain two of the escorts from the party. I gave them all the pleasure and wine they could want. My tongue loosened their tongues, you might say." He laughs tonelessly. "One of them has serviced the King several times, including twice during his stay at a mansion outside the city walls. Apparently he kept the Princess there for a while, before bringing her into the city."

"Any hints about the identity of the poisoner?"

"I'm getting to that. I asked her about people who seemed close to the King, and she named a few. The young lord to whom Rahzien gave the key—Zevin Harlowe. Two of the Vohrainian lords, Straussan and Occria. And she said he had more than one visit from the Princess's maid, Parma."

"But Parma and Zevin are Elekstan citizens," I muse. "So they couldn't be the Royal Poisoner."

"Unless…" Meridian chews the scarred part of his lower lip. "Unless the King didn't have a Royal Poisoner until the invasion of Elekstan. We've been thinking the poisoner is Vohrainian, but we have no instances of him using poisons like these until he came to this kingdom."

"You're saying the poisoner might be from Elekstan? A traitor?"

"I'm saying we can't rule it out. We know Rahzien was actively establishing himself within Elekstan long before he actually conquered it. Anything is possible." Wincing, Meridian reaches down to massage his calf with both hands. "Fuck this leg of mine."

On impulse, I swerve my muzzle toward him and exhale heat onto his leg.

He sits back and stretches his leg out farther. "Fuck, that feels good. "

"You've been on your feet too long."

"I do what I have to do," he says grimly. "I won't be pitied or coddled."

"Certainly not. I wouldn't know how to coddle a human, anyway."

He chuckles. "True."

For several minutes he enjoys the heat of my breath, and then he says, "You should revert to human form and prepare for the meeting. I'll coach you on a few topics that might arise."

"Have you had any sleep?"

"I said no coddling. I'll sleep when I'm dead." With a stiff groan he hoists himself to his feet with the help of the walking stick. "Let's talk about the primary natural resources of Zairos."

Less than an hour later, Meridian and Kehanal lead the way from our suite while I follow more slowly, trying to mark the route in my mind and familiarize myself better with the layout of the palace. I'm wearing different boots today, and I'm finding it difficult to adjust to the way they feel. I don't understand why all human footwear can't be exactly the same.

I'm looking down, glowering at the white leather boots encasing my feet and half my legs, when I sense it. The pull in my chest, the surge of awareness.

Serylla is close by.

We're crossing an intersection of hallways—one going straight ahead, a staircase ascending to the right, and a corridor branching off to the left. Meridian and Kehanal continue ahead, but I hesitate, eyeing the left-hand corridor. It appears to be a shortcut from one wing of the palace to another, with tall windows on both sides. Between the windows are recesses flanked by thick, midnight-blue curtains. Some of the alcoves contain paintings of flowers or landscapes, while others appear to be missing the works of art which once hung there. Only empty hooks remain.

A stocky servant is ambling down the corridor toward me, and right behind him is Serylla, walking with her head down and a small frown on her pretty face.

Then she looks up. Straight at me, where I've paused mid-step.

The servant passes by me with a half-bow and continues on, his eyes fixed on a paper in his hands—some sort of list.

Serylla follows him with slow, measured steps, her gaze flitting up to mine. She's so close, and I'm immobilized by her nearness, her soft scent, her breath, the shine of her yellow hair.

Meridian and Kehanal have continued on, oblivious to the fact that I'm no longer behind them.

Serylla is almost past me now, and I reach out, just a little, until the backs of my fingers brush hers when she walks by.

I'm holding my breath. Didn't realize it until now. I start to exhale—but then a small hand seizes mine, and Serylla tows me into the shortcut passage and shoves me into one of the curtained alcoves. My back thuds against the wall.

She yanks the curtains into place behind us, leaving only a sliver of light leaking through.

Her body collides with mine, her hands finding my face, pulling it down to hers as she rises on tiptoe. Her kiss sears my mouth, the same frantic urgency that throbs in my own heart. I gather her to my chest like an armful of the most precious treasure.

"I had to risk it," she whispers shakily in the dark. "I couldn't let you just walk by… after the morning I've had... "

I recognize the twinge of pain in her voice. This is more than the distress of last night—this is something new. "What happened? Did Zevin Harlowe come to your room?"

"No, no… whatever your friend Meridian arranged, it worked. He was too drunk to show up, and he has left the palace, probably angrier and more embarrassed than ever. No, this morning was about Rahzien."

"What did the bastard do?" I ask in a growling whisper. "I swear, Serylla, when this is over I'm going to bite off his limbs one at a time and roast them in front of him—"

Serylla presses harder against me and clamps slender fingers over my mouth.

Someone is approaching our hiding spot.

For once, my dragon hearing failed me, or perhaps I was too immersed in visions of revenge—I didn't hear the voices until this moment. They sound faintly muffled, like helmeted Vohrainian guards.

"We need to hurry and catch up," says one of the men. "If anything happens to the Conquered Consort on the way to her room—"

"What's going to happen?" drawls a second man. "She's with a servant, and it's not far. Besides, it's not like the King would care if she were hurt. You saw what he had Skonn do to her. I thought he'd killed her for sure."

"At least she gets a healer to fix her up, good as new," mutters the first man. "I wish the healers for the troops were as good as Lady Cathrain."

The voices fade, and I pry Serylla's fingers from my mouth, rage mounting high in my chest. "You were beaten?"

"It doesn't matter now."

"The fuck it doesn't."

"The healer fixed me," she whispers harshly. "I'm fine. Now kiss me."

Repressing a snarl, I take her mouth, my lips crushing hers .

"Yes," she gasps. "Harder."

I pick her up, my hands clasping her rear, and I turn us around so she's the one being pressed to the wall. She wraps both legs around my waist, grinding her pussy against me through the clothing between us, rubbing urgently against the rigid hardness between my legs.

"I need to get to a meeting," I murmur, devouring her cheeks and lips with fierce kisses.

"This isn't the time or place for fucking," she agrees breathlessly, wrenching at the fastenings of my pants. Her fingers are small, hot, and frantic, digging my cock out of my clothing.

I shove her skirts up her thighs, but her underwear is in my way, so I summon my claws and rip through them. I stuff the lacy remnants in my pocket, and the claws vanish again at a thought from me.

"How did you do that?" she whispers. "And why don't you have your horns in this form? I forgot to ask last night—"

"Questions later." I duck my head and trail my tongue up the warm, silken column of her throat. "Fuck now."