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The finality of his tone causes my back teeth to lock together in anger. “That’s not going to work for me.”

Zeke lifts his shoulder in a careless gesture. “That’s not my problem.” He turns to head towards the men still waiting by the tree line, effectively dismissing me.

Alyvia reaches forward to grab my arm in a reassuring gesture, but I yank it out of her reach, marching forward and grabbing Zeke by the back of his shirt. Lady Gwenyth used to dismiss me in the same callous way. Her complete disregard for anything other than her own selfish wants easily swatted away from her radar.

Looking out towards the men watching in various states of confusion and shock, I find a familiar pair of eyes narrowed at me. Nox tightens his hand on his sword, reminding me exactly what I can’t have, what I’m not supposed to be doing here. A plan suddenly bursts into my mind to make them see me, the Slayer of Cinnabar, for who I really am. Maybe then they’ll listen to me. And if I have to apply their own logic against them, so be it.

Slowly Zeke turns his head until he’s looking at me, my fingers still curled into his shirt. A lift of his eyebrow is his only response.

“If you don’t grant me an appointment with him immediately I’ll rip another fucking hole in your veil.”

Zeke scowls, and from the crowd surrounding us several people gasp.

It’s my turn to cock my eyebrow. “Those are your choices. Ignore me and I’ll begin using my so-called magic to shred your veil over and over again until it’s nothing but tatters or take me to Lord Rowan now.” I have no idea if I can even use magic, let alone continue to draw upon it to tear into the veil multiple times, but Zeke doesn’t know that. And what he doesn’t know, I can use to my advantage.

Zeke twists out of my hold, turning his body until he’s fully facing me. Several long seconds of silence pass, but I hold his unwavering stare determined to win this battle of wills.

Lord Rowan may not know it yet, but he’s about to bend to my command the same way his brute of a messenger is.

The stillness of the area bolsters my heart rate. It’s easy to tell the men behind Zeke’s towering form believe he’ll tell me where to shove it. But they don’t realize the threat I just issued. The one that seems to strike at the heart of this realm’s ability to shield itself and its people from the vicious forces across the sea.

Zeke’s face locks into a dark and surly void. His eyes darken, the reptilian glare frosting over as he continues to stare at me. “I’d think you were bluffing, but threatening to disembowel you would be giving you what you want,” he rumbles in a cold voice devoid of any emotion. “Come along, little monster. The Lord awaits our arrival.”

I scowl at the pet name he repeats. “I’m not a monster.”

“Aren’t you?” With that parting comment, Zeke brushes past me, walking casually back towards the building.

Alyvia gives me a worried smile of reassurance and gestures for me to follow the dragon.

Zeke maintains a good pace a few yards ahead of us. He doesn’t speak or glance back to check and see if we’re following him.

“I don’t believe that was a wise display of power, Keres,” Alyvia whispers, her fingers curling around my bicep as she leans into my ear. “I understand your pain, but pissing him off won’t end well. It’ll do you even less good with Lord Rowan.”

“The punishment is death, isn’t it?” I ask tightly.

Alyvia shakes her head. “For most? Yes. For you? He’d probably keep you alive.”

My step falters as I shake Alyvia off of me. Of course that’s a risk I took when choosing to go toe-to-toe with Zeke. Although I hadn’t really thought of the fact Lord Rowan may wish to keep me alive simply for being disobedient. Just as Lady Gwenyth does.

Shit.

Picking up the pace, I gather up the distance lost between Zeke and us from my brief moment of shock. We wind through the estate, down hallways I haven't been allowed down or didn’t know existed. Through doors and chambers and more doors. A never ending cycle of anticlimactic reverence every time a door was open with such authority I thought this had to be the last doorway we’d step through.

The longer we walk, the more I’m beginning to think Zeke is taking us on a merry chase for pissing him off. But a quick glance at Alyvia’s pallid face claims otherwise.

We turn another corner and Zeke stops just in front of a closed door that looks like the twenty others we’ve passed since he started leading the way. He doesn’t knock, just stares straight ahead at the plain wood.

Alyvia nudges my shoulder with hers. “It has to be you.”

Because I’m the entire reason we’re here, about to interrupt whatever planning preparation Lord Rowan is doing for something called the Haze.

Lifting my chin, I stalk past Zeke and don’t bother knocking as I grip the doorknob and turn it. Stepping inside, I immediately slam the door shut in their faces before taking stock of the room laid before me.

It’s large but simple. Tan floors, white painted walls, with a vaulted ceiling boasting a chandelier from thirty years ago if I had to guess. There’s bookshelves teeming with books and scrolls and knickknacks, all ready to burst at the seams. Large tables situated around the room with papers scattered about, pens laid haphazardly around, and a giant seating area off to one side.

The only thing missing is Lord Rowan.

For fuck’s sake. I spin around to open the door and give Zeke a piece of my mind when I realize the door is no longer there. The wall is the same smooth white plaster as the rest of the room.