Chapter 20

“A NICE PURPLE WOULD LOOK INCREDIBLE with your hair, or even green if you wanted to make your eyes really pop,” Azo encourages.

I spin on the platform that Nixy summoned from the ground with a touch of a button, and take in my reflection in the mirrors that shimmered into place on the opposite wall.

“No, I like gray,” I tell the human…again. “It really is my favorite color, and this is the perfect shade.”

Azo sighs and, with a shake of his head, concedes his loss. Nixy’s smile grows wider as she circles me, eyeing her selections and checking for anything that requires any last-minute adjusting.

“Grab that one pair of lace-up boots in the back cupboard next to the headpieces,” she orders Azo.

“Ooh, the thigh highs?” he questions, a twinkle of excitement once again igniting in his gaze. “Do you want a heel or no heel?”

“No heels,” I interject.

“The thick-soled ones,” Nixy tells him before she starts orbiting me again.

“Enough. I’m as posh and polished as I’m going to get today,” I grump, rounding on the wyvern. “You can’t hold me hostage forever.”

“Fine, fine, but are you sure you don’t want to wear any jewelry? I really think a necklace would be per—”

“Unless it’s a fang breaker, no. Now, can I get down?”

An exasperated huff slips out of Ren’s little sister, and I hear several of the drakes still spread around the room stifling their laughter.

“Wait for the shoes and then you’re free, and you don’t need to worry about vampires here, dragoness.”

“We’ve been telling her,” Ogdan grumbles, and I lob a snarky glare his way.

“I’m going to hate myself for even asking, but do you like it? Did I accomplish what I said I would?” Nixy probes.

I turn back to my reflection and run my hands down the dove gray corset that molds perfectly to my torso. It has a flouncy little peplum flare at my hips, and the top cups the undersides of my breasts—which are looking better than ever thanks to a bra that somehow sticks to your tits, lifting and securing them until you push a magic little button on the side to take it off.

Fenox put the corset on top of a silky, off-the-shoulder, baggy yet structured top that’s the same shade of gray as the rest of the outfit. But my favorite part is the buttery-soft, reinforced armor pants I’m wearing that fit me like a second skin.

The outfit is exactly what Nixy said it would be, functional and fashionable. She sat me under a machine that straightened my hair until it was sleek and gleaming. Then she pressed a mask to my face that darkened my brows and lashes, and made my skin look smooth and flawless, before it pinkened my cheeks and deepened the color of my lips. It’s not makeup but some kind of dye that only has to be applied every few weeks. I look beautiful, filthy rich, and snooty, but in a you don’t want to fuck with me kind of way.

Nixy is a genius.

I find her blue-hazel eyes in the mirror and give her a warm genuine smile, the kind that makes my solitary dimple appear.

“It’s perfect, Fenox Lael. Thank you.”

Her answering smile is bright and proud, and then she goes and makes it awkward by dropping into a deep curtsy. “Thank you for trusting me, dragoness.”

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes, but we’ve perfected this little song and dance over the last few hours that we’ve been trying on clothes, sketching designs, and making lists of everything a proper dragoness needs at court.

“Got them.” Azo hurries over. “It took me a minute to adjust the color to the right tone of… gray ,” he announces, his nose crinkling with displeasure. “I don’t know what it says about you that gray of all things is your favorite color, but a shrink would have a field day, I’m sure.”

I laugh at the cheek of this human, but a low warning growl slips out of Farrow, and he narrows his gaze at the man.

“Careful, human,” the Thrasher warns, and the mood in the room instantly sours.

Azo blanches and audibly swallows as he bends down to help me into the thigh-high, lace-up platform boots.

“Oooh, pockets!” I chirp, eager to draw attention away from Nixy’s sassy assistant. I bend the top lip of the boot back and marvel at the built-in sheath that’s hidden inside. “You get me,” I coo at Nixy, and she laughs, the sound helping to lighten the simmering tension.

I get the other boot on and then hop down off the platform with a relieved sigh. This wasn’t as torturous as I expected, but I’m glad to finally be dressed and done with this portion of my introduction to dragon high society. I wrap Ren’s little sister up in a tight hug. She goes stiff and I instantly know I’ve done the wrong thing.

“Move away from the dragoness, wyvern,” Tove barks, and I glower over at the female drake as I release Nixy and quickly back away from her for her own safety.

“She’s been up close and personal with all my bits for hours. What the fuck is your problem?” I demand, bewildered by the sudden onslaught of aggression rolling off all the drakes.

They’ve each maintained their relaxed positions around the room all day, but now they look like they’re ready to fight or take action, which seems like overkill for a hug.

No one says anything, not even Nixy.

My stare drops to the ground, and I shake my head.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I whisper penitently, turning to Fenox.

“I’m honored to have your trust, dragoness, but you need to understand I will never have theirs,” she tells me evenly, nodding at the Wing members.

My heart aches as her words float around the room, not one voice willing to dispute their validity or offer her sorrow a safe harbor. Frustration brews in my gut, but Nixy subtly shakes her head, and I’m forced to ingest my outrage and bite my tongue.

What makes me feel even shittier is that I don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to lecturing the agitated drakes about their behavior. I was just as edgy and convinced of my own demise on the ride over here. Until I saw that the wyvern I was going to be dealing with was Nixy, I was equally as untrusting and worried, which means I’m no better than them in this regard.

Shame settles in my chest. I hate what’s happened between us, the chasm that exists between wyverns and dragons. With so much pain, spilled blood, and mistrust on both sides, I don’t know how to fix it, or if anyone even can.

“Not huggers in Paragon City. Got it,” I mumble, stepping further away from the wyvern I’m still pretending not to know.

A heaviness lodges itself in the room.

“I’ll have everything we picked out today sent up to the keep immediately, and the other designs we discussed should be ready in less than a week. I can send Azo to fit you when they’re done, or you’re welcome to come here if you prefer I fit you personally,” Nixy tells me, her tone suddenly slightly hollow and entirely too professional.

It feels like a kick to the gut, but I know there’s no getting around it. I got comfortable here, forgot my place for a little while, and just did something that could’ve blown our cover. I’m not exactly the epitome of warm and fuzzy; now I’m going to have to hug a few other random people just to cover our asses.

“Let me see what my schedule is like, and I’ll let you know,” I answer, just as stiff and formal.

“Excellent. It was a pleasure, dragoness.”

Before I can think of another detached-sounding response, Ogdan steps to Azo and holds up a credit band. The human taps a few things into his own device and then presses the band to the other. A quick beep indicates that payment has been made and the transaction is complete.

No one seems to notice when I pluck two butter knives from my old boots and slip them into the sheaths hidden inside the tops of my new footwear. The guards all converge on me, and with that, I’m herded toward the exit.

We step out into a cool, bleak-looking afternoon. The light that reaches this deck of the city has grown gloomier in the hours we’ve spent inside, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. The sleek-looking lirocar touches down in front of us, the doors sliding open as our group approaches.

“Ugh, Chastain, I swear I’m going to sew your asshole shut!” Tove grouses, fanning the air in front of her face.

“What?” the Channeler demands, and then the smell must hit him, because his face crumples with disgust. “I swear that wasn’t me!”

Whatever it is they’re grousing about reaches me, and I freeze, my head snapping up while my frantic gaze starts searching. I know that noxious smell. I’ve been breathing in that cloying stench for months.

The Tainted are here.

They found me.