Page 29 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

Our next stop was at what Charlie called a hair salon .

The stylist who greeted us, a stout red-headed woman with dramatic eye makeup, fretted over the chop-job I’d done on my hair (neither of us informed her I’d done it minutes before with a dagger) and led me to a swiveling chair set in front of a mirror.

Other women sat in similar chairs all around us, chatting and laughing.

Strange smells wafted all around, mingling with the sounds of snipping scissors and the whooshing of spray bottles.

Every haircut I’d received in my life, I’d gotten from Rohree in my own private chambers.

This seemed an entirely different experience.

And yet, all in all, I found this a rather pleasant place, and I settled happily into my seat while the servant swooped a black cape around me.

“What happened to your wing, birdie?” she asked, and my heart fluttered to a stop.

Little bird. Braimar used to call me something like that.

Braimar, my ex-boyfriend. Braimar, whose two-headed dragon had lost a head and caused him to go mad.

Braimar, who’d cornered me with his friends and tried to hurt me, before Charlie had come to my rescue.

That wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on now—Charlie helping me.

Charlie caring for me. Now was a time to keep my heart—and my dagger—sharp.

But with just a few words, this woman had thrown all that into disarray.

“What?” I said.

She nodded toward me. “Your arm.”

“She fell,” Charlie put in quickly. “Going down the subway steps.”

I shot him a look. I hated how smoothly he lied, but he was probably afraid I’d say I punched a shopkeeper again.

The stylist shook her head. “Those steps are so treacherous, especially in the rain. Now about this hair. It’s beautiful, but this cut…” she held up a few strands, frowning.

“She loves to go to the dance halls,” Charlie said quickly. “She wants a style that will help her fit in there.”

The woman grunted. “A woman this beautiful seems made to stand out, not fit in.”

“Right. And I can speak for myself,” I said, with a glance at Charlie. He gave a sullen shrug and crossed his arms.

“I want… uh…”

I felt Othura laugh in the back of my mind, a sure sign she was listening in. Accompanying her presence was the taste of rat—which, through the perspective of a dragon, was delicious—but still unsettling.

Get a streak of silver, to match my scales, she suggested.

Hush, you. You’re distracting me, I told her.

Charlie and the stylist were watching me expectantly.

I cleared my throat. “He’s right…” I said. “I need a hairstyle fit for a dance hall.”

The woman brandished her scissors and gave the air a few snips.

“Say no more, girl. When I’m done with you, your fella here is going to have to fight off every guy in town.”

I stepped out of the hair salon and took a deep breath, feeling the warm breeze sigh through my thin dress. Perhaps it was just losing twenty inches of hair, but I felt lighter. Freer.

I struck a pose for Charlie. “Well. Do I look like an Ironberg girl?”

His gaze traced my face, my body, sparing not a single inch of me, then his eyes settled on mine. “You’re like no woman I’ve ever seen—in Ironberg or anywhere else.”

I opened my mouth to say something. A joke.

A jab. Anything to diffuse the moment. But instead, I felt the dragon intuition inside me flaring.

Something drew my eyes to a bench behind Charlie.

A man sat there reading a newspaper. He wore spectacles with black lenses and a black hat with a wide brim. I felt sure I’d seen him before.

“Don’t look now,” I whispered. “But there’s a man on the bench behind you. I’m pretty sure I saw him outside the dress shop, too.”

Charlie’s expression darkened. He knelt, pretending to tie his shoe, and glanced back. When he rose, he took my arm.

“It’s a spook,” he said.

“Spook?”

“A spy,” he said, hustling me up the sidewalk. “From the Secret Intelligence Bureau. Come on.”

“I thought you were a spy,” I said, my tone accusatory.

“Not like these guys,” he muttered. “There, this way.”

He led me toward the street. In the center of it, a vehicle clattered past. I’d heard of these—big, necromancy-powered carriages that ran in the center of the road—street cars.

“Jump!” Charlie said. I grabbed a handrail and leaped onto the moving vehicle’s lowest step, and Charlie bounded up after me.

When we were safely on board, I looked back to find the man with the newspaper standing in the center of the street and staring after us.

Something about him—his motionlessness, or the intensity of his stare—sent a shiver through me.

Charlie pushed his way onto the already packed streetcar, jostling bodies aside to make room for both of us.

With one hand, he grabbed the bar that ran over our heads.

Others were using it too, to keep stable as the car jittered along the tracks.

Charlie’s other hand went to my waist, steadying me, too.

I slapped it away, even as a bump threatened to knock me right out of the vehicle’s open door.

Quickly, I reached up and grabbed the handrail, my fingers overlapping with his for a second before I adjusted my grip. Charlie watched me with bemusement.

“What?” I demanded.

He shrugged, feigning innocence. How had I ever fallen for this smug, arrogant?—?

But he was looking out of the car now, back the way we came.

“Well, they’re onto us,” he whispered. “I might’ve pissed them off when I failed to report for duty this morning.”

I shook my head. “Stupid. You should have kept up your routine.”

“If I’d done that, I’d be out over the ocean blowing dragons out of the sky, Princess, instead of?—”

“Standing here, annoying me? Alerting enemies to my presence?”

His jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. He probably would have stalked away at that moment if he could have, but there was no room.

Already, with the riders all around us, our bodies were pressed together, my breasts against him, my pelvis rubbing against his with each bump and rattle of the streetcar.

He seemed to become acutely aware of this at the same time I did, and I saw his cheeks flush as we both stopped breathing. Our eyes locked, then we both quickly looked away.

Charlie cleared his throat. “How is he?”

I blinked. “Who?”

“Parthar.”

The little dragon’s name broke the rising tension, snapped me back to myself— and to my reason for being here.

“I’m… I’m surprised you ask. It’s the first time you’ve mentioned him.”

“I think about him every day,” Charlie admitted. “Every time I was looking for you, I was looking for him, too. I mean, to be honest, I tried to forget about the little beastie. But being without him is…”

He didn’t have to finish. I could see the anguish on his face.

“I know what it is for a rider to be without their dragon,” I said.

“I’m not a?—”

“I know,” I said. “Believe me. But you are bonded to a?—”

Before I could say the word, he put a finger to my lips, glancing at the other riders, and I realized our voices had risen above a whisper.

I felt the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss his finger. Or to bite it. But he took it away fast.

“You are bonded,” I whispered carefully. “It’ll be hard to be separated, even if you don’t care about him.”

He frowned. “I do care about him,” he said. “I mean… I raised the little guy. In the beginning, at least. I felt his fear when they took him away from me. When they locked him in a cage, his sadness made tears run down my face. And now it’s even worse, because now?—”

The words seemed to catch in his throat.

“Now you can’t feel him?” I asked, my voice low as empathy finally overcame my anger.

He nodded, and for just a flash, I thought I saw the glint of moisture in his eyes.

Just then, the driver made an announcement which, through some necromancer magic, came out above our heads. “Last stop, Surrey Beach.”

The car clattered to a halt, and we disembarked along with the rest of the crowd.

We found ourselves in a seaside park. Couples walked arm in arm down a brick walkway bordered by lovely gardens.

Down on a stretch of sand, children ran and shouted.

A pair of colorful kites, just like the ones children back in Maethalia flew, hung and darted on the wind above.

Further down, a flock of white gulls lifted as one, calling out to the sparkling waves.

Through it all, the wind whispered, stirring my dragon stone’s power and momentarily reminding me of my connection to Othura—which always filled me with calm and confidence. Suddenly, I got an idea.

“Come on,” I said, taking Charlie’s hand and leading him toward the water.

“What are we?—?”

“Just come. Trust me,” I said.

It was perhaps too much to ask of a man who, less than twenty-four hours ago, had felt the steel of my dagger against his chest. But he followed me anyway, without complaint and without hesitation.

We took off our shoes, and I led him across the sand. At the edge of the water, I stopped and turned to him.

“Put your forehead against mine,” I commanded.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

He stooped slightly and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Remember when we skipped stones back in Issastar?” he asked.

“Would you be silent?” I snapped. “Shut your eyes.”

He obeyed, and I opened up the simnal connection, linking with Othura.

Wordlessly, I bid her to reach out to Parthar.

It might not be easy with Parthar so far away, but dragons could connect with other dragons at much greater distances than they could connect with other humans.

And being near the sea should help. Using Othura as the conduit, we should be able to?—

Suddenly, I felt the little dragon. His youthful eagerness, his openness, his playfulness. Also, his sadness and yearning and worry. I embraced him with my mind, then connected him with Charlie. It was like opening the door to a room filled with sunlight.

“Parthar!” Charlie whispered.

I peeked through my eyelashes to see his lips curling into a smile.

I could have stepped out, could have left them alone in their connection.

But my curiosity got the better of me, and I stayed, like an eavesdropper, feeling the playfulness, the joy of their exchange.

There were no words traded. That was the beautiful thing; between a rider and a dragon, no words were needed.

But Parthar was happier than I’d ever felt him.

His exuberance made my heart flutter and gave me a smile to match Charlie’s.

I felt their love, felt Charlie’s pure goodwill toward him.

Between Charlie and me, there had always been barriers. The wariness of enemies. The tension of attraction. But feeling his soul as it was with Parthar was such a thing of beauty I wanted to grin and weep and giggle all at once.

I pulled away fast, taking two quick steps back and struggling to catch my breath.

That was the thing with the simnal connection, it allowed you to be close with both dragons and riders.

Sometimes, too close. Any more of that, and I’d be falling in love with Charlie again.

Any more of that, and I wouldn’t be able to?—

“You okay?” The connection was broken, and Charlie was looking at me with concern.

Parthar’s presence must have been lingering with me, because I was seeing him with new eyes.

That rugged jawline. The dark, sensitive blue eyes, deep and steady and turbulent as the sea.

The strand of dark hair that always seemed to escape and fall into his face…

All the Gods—he was beautiful.

“I’m fine,” I said. It came out a whisper.

I shouldn’t have done that. I’d come here to end Charlie, to break their connection forever so Parthar could bond anew.

Giving the little dragon a renewed taste of his bond with Charlie would only make that harder.

And what I’d felt when I connected them—that would make killing Charlie harder, too, when the time came. It had been a stupid thing to do…

Charlie squeezed my hand. “Thank you.” Our simnal connection lingered, and I felt his pure gratitude. And his feelings for me. The way they swelled with each beat of his heart, no less consistent or powerful than the waves crashing against the shore.

For a second, as we both stood there catching our breath, it seemed we were the only two people in existence. But slowly, the rest of the world began to creep back in. Winging gulls. Strolling beachgoers. The shrieks of laughing children.

I found myself scanning the beach for the man in the black suit and the wide-brimmed hat, a vigilant Skrathan once more.

“So… what’s next?” I asked.

In a blink, vulnerability in Charlie’s eyes whiffed out, too, replaced with his usual steel. For a second, he’d been a poet. Now, he was an ace again.

“Now, we hide out,” he said. “And get ready for tonight.”