Page 38

Chapter 38

THE FEW TIMES I ENVISIONED what it would be like to walk into a cavernous ballroom filled to the brim with The Horde, I always thought it would be the sheer number of bodies that would intimidate me. Turns out I was wrong, because when hundreds of drakes turn to watch me make my way down a carpeted aisle toward the king, it isn’t the quantity that puts me on edge, it’s the silence.

I was told about the reverence of a Naming. I knew it wasn’t a loud and boisterous affair, but I didn’t expect this. I could hear a feather fall in this kind of quiet, and it’s beyond unsettling. A group this size shouldn’t be this reticent, this subdued. They’re drakes for fuck’s sake. Back home, the Syphons aren’t even this static and soundless in our sleep.

My ears ring from the stifled stillness the same way they would if someone was howling directly into my ears. Every step I take, every breath I steal, is so loud it’s like I’m screaming into an abyss. My pulse sounds more like a drum core that’s playing a final dirge as I march to my end.

Power permeates the room, unbridled, viscous, heavy. The deeper I move into the massive hall, the more it’s like I’m wading against the strong current of a stream. My pace slows to accommodate the force, and it looks as though I’m taking a casual stroll, when the truth is I wish I were sprinting down this aisle and right out the fucking back door.

With effort, I move against a tide of riches and finery. I overlook the jewels, the fancy hair, the perusing gazes. I ignore the stunning suits and gowns that appear to be made of sparkling droplets of water, delicate flowers, or bone-charring flames. All of it tries to tease my attention from the dais and the three occupied thrones waiting for me at the end of my yawning trek. But my focus stays on the king.

I walk a gauntlet designed to feel daunting as mute onlookers keenly watch my every move. Most drakes do this as children, although usually they don’t do it alone. In the territories, the noble houses preside over a quarterly Naming Day where all eligible children take their turn being Named and Claimed by their clan, kith, and kindred.

Here in Four Tiers, the king lords over the nobles’ children and their big reveal. If the failed uprising had never happened and my father hadn’t been killed, I would have undertaken this rite of passage hand in hand with my sister, surrounded by the other Syphon children. Instead, I walk this path alone—something that’s starting to feel all too common and all too disheartening.

My thoughts want to drift to Enslee, to my Flight and what might be happening to them at the hands of Wistan and his Tainted, but I quickly lock all of that up and shove it as far away as possible so I can focus on the task at hand.

The king’s face is like a stoic beacon that I tether myself to. I can feel Aeson’s gaze branding me as I draw closer, but I’m not ready to face him. The king would have told him by now that I’ve agreed to be his mate. The commander could be smug—resigned is an option too—or maybe he’s completely indifferent. Whatever his reaction, I’m not interested in finding out just yet.

I tell myself it won’t matter if he doesn’t actually want me, if he resents the part he played in all of this, a part he played so well that he’s stuck with it now…stuck with me. It won’t bother me in the slightest if I was right all along. But another voice, one buried deep in my chest where it’s been trapped since I can remember, growls a definitive and undeniable… Mine.

Shock crawls through me at that declaration, but I quickly slam a wall down to block it all out. This isn’t the time or place, and I can’t afford distractions right now.

The aisle feels never-ending, but I pretend I’m a link in a chain, one that’s being pulled into the depths of the sea at the behest of an anchor—and that anchor is the king. I hope I’ve read him right. I hope he’ll keep his end of the deal. He clearly has a vested interest in my relationship with his son, and even if the Matron can’t break the curse, I think the king might help me track down someone who can. After all, as soon as I’m officially mated to his son, my strength becomes the Crown’s strength. They’ll want to figure out how to break this curse too. If for no other reason than their own interests.

I approach the end of the aisle and note that the king looks even more formidable in the light of day. His suit is pure white with ivory embroidered flames on his pants and suit jacket. The cape he’s wearing today is draped over one arm of his throne so it can spill down the steps of the dais in an impressive display. It looks like it’s made of the same white fire he conjured in his office to trap me, and my forearm tingles at the sight of it.

Butterflies flit in and out of my line of sight, and finally I find myself standing at the foot of the regal dais. I’m supposed to either bow now or curtsy, then the king will Name me and offer my clan the opportunity to claim me. Once that’s done, the party, the dancing, and the gossiping can start. However, I don’t bend the knee or genuflect in any way. I simply stand and stare up at Kathal Noctis, my face blank and my spine stiff and unyielding.

I did point out to the king last night that I haven’t sworn fealty to him. He waved it off like it wasn’t important, but that was his mistake. I don’t bow for just any man, and without a sworn vow, Kathal Noctis is not my king.

A rustle of unease ripples through the crowd when it becomes clear that I’m going off script. I watch the king, waiting for a flash of impatience or a flicker of indignation, but just like last night, my defiance doesn’t anger him. In fact, he almost looks proud of it.

I hitch an eyebrow and offer the monarch a look that says your move .

He has every right to burn me to a crisp where I stand, or punish me in any other way he sees fit. But I’m hoping he’ll simply carry on with this ancient tradition that hails from a time when clans lived solitary lives in distant territories and only came together to celebrate the coming of age of their young.

Kathal Noctis rises from his throne, and I swear he looks even bigger than he did in his office. The sides of my face prickle from the intensity of both Aeson’s and Lorn’s stares, but I keep my attention rooted to their father. Only an idiot would look away from the biggest threat in the room.

“Today, we celebrate. A great treasure, once thought lost to us, has been found,” King Noctis declares, his voice moving through the massive room like a surging tidal wave. “A gift, a miracle, a token of hope has made her way…home.”

I want to be annoyed by the king’s flair for dramatics, but I’m unexpectedly touched by his choice of words. I know they’re meant to hook and entice the crowd, but they burrow and bury themselves inside of me like they’re awaiting the day that I might truly become all those things.

“My people,” the king commands, and it feels as though The Horde all collectively hold their breath. “Sixty-two years ago, our enemies moved against us, and we lost not only our king and the royal family, but we lost the Syphons too. Today, at this unprecedented Naming, I come before you to decree that not all is lost.”

With measured, confident strides, King Noctis descends the steps of the dais until he’s standing in front of me. He cups my face and looks down at me with so much warmth and acceptance that it sets me adrift. I don’t trust it, but I also can’t ignore the pieces of me that really want to.

“I Name you Ever Tenebrae, daughter of King Merik Tenebrae, and the last Syphon.”

The astonishment that pulses through the crowd makes the hair on my arms rise in warning. King Noctis bends to kiss my forehead, the gesture reminiscent of a Sovereign pressing their royal crest into the malleable wax seal of their latest decree. It dawns on me that my butterflies should be attacking him. He’s well within the two-foot parameter they were set to guard, and yet they’re still drifting around me like they haven’t detected a breach.

Maybe Karis found a way to turn them off after all.

By the time the king straightens, the eerie silence in the room has been shattered by gasps, cries, and a steady thrum of startled murmurs.

I stare up into King Noctis’s blue eyes as he drops his hands from my face and grasps my shoulders.

“Are you ready for what comes next?” he asks me quietly, and I’m surprised that he would give me one last chance to back out of our deal.

But as much as I want to run, my missing Flight has forced my hand. If there’s any chance of saving them, we need to be whole. The Syphons are broken, and if I have to sell myself to the enemy to fix them, my life is a small price to pay.

I may be nothing more than a pawn to them, but even a pawn can check a king in the right circumstances.

I nod. “I’m ready.”

His smile is genuine, and his eyes are alight with that same warm pride that makes my throat get tight. The king turns me until I’m looking out at a sea of faces all belonging to The Horde. He keeps his hands on my shoulders and waits for the room to once again grow silent. The nobles collect themselves much faster than I would have thought possible.

“And who claims Ever Tenebrae, the last Syphon, and the daughter of King Merik Tenebrae?” The king continues like he didn’t just drop a bomb and isn’t getting ready to drop another.

“I do.”

Aeson’s voice rings out loud and clear, and I don’t need to look to know that he’s rising from his throne and moving down the dais toward me. Swallowing hard, I finally lift my gaze to look at him.

His suit is pitch black velvet that’s trimmed in gold. Embroidered flames decorate the lapels of his jacket, his shoulders, the sides of his pants, and the cuffs of his sleeves. The thread used for the flames glints and changes color from gold to amber to orange as Aeson moves and the filaments catch the light. He’s clean shaven and devastatingly handsome, but the harsh look on his face instantly makes me wish I’d stayed strong and kept my eyes away.

The butterflies around me are calm as can be, but I can’t say the same for the rioting kaleidoscope in my stomach when I look at the commander’s face and see it void of all emotion. He joins me at the bottom of the dais, but he doesn’t close the distance between us. I have a feeling it’s not because of the security feature on my dress.

“Do you claim her as clan, kith, or kindred, Scion Noctis?” the king proudly asks his son.

“I, Aeson Noctis, claim Ever Tenebrae as my mate,” he answers smoothly, and I wonder if they rehearsed this.

More gasps and cries fill the colossal chamber as Aeson’s declaration fills it. I swear I even see someone off to the side faint. The commander doesn’t meet my gaze despite having just publicly claimed me. I think it’s safe to say that he’s pissed, the question is over what exactly.

The anger radiating off of him makes my stomach drop and my heart feel like lead. Is it the deal in general he’s mad about? Did the king tell him about the Syphon Glass? Or did Karis already tattle about the unauthorized call I’m still trying to figure out how to cover up? The possibilities are endless.

“The Crown accepts this claim and thus this Naming is complete,” the king declares, pulling me from my thoughts. “Tomorrow I will sit with the heads of state and discuss the details of how all of this came to be. But tonight we celebrate the Named and honor her newfound place among us. You now belong to The Horde, Ever, and The Horde belongs to you. Welcome!”

The approving roar that fills the hall rocks me to my core. Chills ripple through me at the wave of acceptance that blasts over me like a summer gale. The power that felt so heavy and thick before now feels almost…comforting.

The aisle I traversed to get to the dais disappears in an instant as The Horde hurriedly converges. Their excitement is surprisingly contagious, and I feel a laugh bubble up my throat as the room erupts with awe and celebration. Before the dais can be overrun, a wall of stone-faced guards move to stand between the royal family and The Horde.

I turn and see Lorn. He’s watching me, concern swimming in his eyes. His jaw is clenched with what looks like frustration, but before I can ask him what’s wrong, I’m being herded away.

It’s chaos as everyone tries to press closer. I spot Chastain and Sondar in the contingent of muscle keeping The Horde at bay. Other familiar faces from this morning move in and out of my line of sight as I’m hurried to the side of the throne room.

Shouted orders ricochet all around me, and I’m taken through a doorway and into some kind of antechamber. Everything shifts so quickly from silent to raucous and back again, that it takes me a minute to notice the guards around me yelping and cursing.

I look around and watch as several of them hurry away from me, or more specifically the butterflies that are viciously attacking them.

What the fuck? I thought Karis turned them off.

And then it hits me. Of course the butterflies wouldn’t attack the king; that’d be treason. Nixy would have accounted for that and must have programmed them not to react to the royal family.

“Leave us!” Aeson snarls out of nowhere.

I flinch as the command booms through the long room, bouncing off the white stone walls and floor. I have no idea if this space is used for storage or if it’s some kind of pass-through, but it’s long, fairly wide, and empty.

Warily, I study the commander from where I’m standing at the opposite end of the room. He surveys me with equal intensity, his eyes bright with anger and his hands fisted at his side. I’m not sure what to make of it, but there must be something seriously wrong with me because, instead of being scared, an ember of excitement settles deep in my core and starts to simmer.

When the last guard disappears through the door, Aeson slowly and methodically starts to prowl closer.

“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on…mate?” he growls, his long strides quickly erasing the distance between us.

I retreat a few feet as he continues to cross the room, but as soon as I realize what I’m doing, I force myself not to give him one more step. My trapped dragon hums its approval.

“You were there, so if you really don’t know…we might have a problem,” I answer, going for light and quippy but only managing startled and uneasy.

“Oh, we most definitely have a problem, because when the fuck did you meet my father, let alone have time to broker a deal with him, mate ?”

“Stop saying that,” I snap, irritation drowning out the caution I should be proceeding with. I don’t know if it’s his tone or his use of that word that’s grating on my last nerve, but whatever it is, I just hit my limit.

“Stop saying what? Mate?” he asks incredulously. “But isn’t that what you are? My lying, deceiving, infuriating little mate?”

“I don’t know about lying and deceiving ,” I lie. “And the second part sounds like a you problem…but, yes, I agreed to be your mate, so stop saying it like it’s a dirty word.”

His eyes flare with both need and fury. It’s anyone’s guess which one is going to come out on top, but he’s more than halfway across the room now and gaining.

“Come now, mate. I thought you liked my dirty mouth,” he purrs, and I swear I feel it in my fucking clit. “Now answer my question. When did you make a deal with my father, and more importantly, why? I want every single detail, or so help me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” I growl, more than ready to meet him head-on. “Lock me in my room? Monitor my calls? Control my every move? Oh oh, I know,” I eagerly chirp, a saccharine grin spread wide across my face. “How about you’ll manipulate me to get what you want? News flash, Commander, you already do all of that and then some.”

The fake smile drops from my face, and I glower at him before continuing.

“And don’t pretend that you didn’t start this. You put me in your rookery. You locked me up in your mating suite. It was your Wing that told me to play along. So what’s your problem? It’s all fun and games until the game turns on you?”

He stops a few feet away from me, and for a second, I hold my breath, unsure if I want the razor-winged butterflies to intervene on my behalf or let the scion sidle closer. This might be easier if he wasn’t so fucking beautiful. I could fuck him up without also wanting to fuck him if I didn’t know how good his hands felt on my body, how soft his lips are, or what he tastes like.

“Everything I did was a necessary precaution. Necessary until we know you can be trusted,” he defends. “At this rate, if you don’t start leveling with me, they’ll be permanent fixtures in your life. Is that what you want?”

I bark out a laugh, but there isn’t a drop of genuine humor in it. “What I want? When has anyone in this forsaken keep given two shits about what I want?” I demand. “When have any of you even bothered to ask? But I’ll make you a deal, Commander—and don’t worry, we can cut your daddy out of this one. I’ll start leveling with you when you do the same with me. Until then, you and your demands can fuck right off.”

“I have been straightforward with you from the very—what the bloody fuck?” he snarls when he takes a step closer and the butterflies immediately respond.

One dives through the air and uses its wings to slash the back of his hand, and he snatches another out of the air when it aims for his face.

Shit!

I quickly back up so the winged deterrents disengage. I wince as another butterfly gets in one final shot to Aeson’s ear before calmly fluttering my way.

Correction, Nixy programmed the dress not to attack the king, but it looks like the scions are fair game.

I might feel bad if Aeson wasn’t being a dick right now.

“What is this?” he demands, holding up the jeweled assailant.

“It’s a security precaution I asked for. As long as you stay two feet away from me, you won’t activate it,” I explain while he inspects the cut on his hand and then studies the crystalline insect struggling to escape his iron grasp. “Beats lasers if you ask me.”

“Lasers?” he asks, confused, but then his features turn thoughtful. He’s probably thinking about the conversation he had with his brother last night. Lorn was reading through the transcript of my call with Nixy while they waited for their father in his office.

Aeson’s eyes meet mine, and the fiery fury that was just there calms to a simmering vexation. “You went behind my back and made a deal with my father. I want to know what it was and how you did it.”

I study the sharp curve of his jaw, the angry line of his lips, the blazing demand in his gaze. This is not a male that people refuse, and yet I have no hesitation. I just wish I could get a read on whether it’s the deal part that’s pissing him off or if he’s mad because it happened right under his nose and he wasn’t the one to broker the terms.

“You should ask your father these questions,” I evade.

“I’m asking you ,” Aeson growls. “ My …mate.”

There’s no caustic bite to the way he says it this time. Instead, he’s laced the title with a lethal combination of desire and promise. He savors the phrase, plays with it on his tongue like he can’t get enough of the flavor. It’s both a taunt and an invitation, one I’d suddenly like to RSVP to.

My eyes drop to his mouth, and I can feel the ghost of it across my shoulder. The flames of his dragon mark dance as he swallows, making his Adam’s apple dip and then rise. His nostrils flare like he’s searching for my scent, and when I lift my eyes to his, longing burns in both of our gazes.

Tension crackles and frustration crawls over his face. “I—”

A door on the far end of the room suddenly opens, and Ogdan peeks his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, Commander, but Count Marteen and Lord Piers are leaving. If we want to get tails on them before they clear the gate, we need to move now.”

Aeson’s eyes never leave mine. The longing between us builds into an insatiable ache, and my feet carry me forward, responding to the undeniable need to be closer. But he takes a step back. He blinks and douses the pyre in his eyes, leaving me to burn alone.

“Coming,” Aeson tells him, already turning and walking toward the door.

I watch him as he goes, wondering if this is the only future we’ll ever have, one of us tentatively reaching while the other is perpetually walking away.

My eyes stray to Ogdan, and I replay what he said when he interrupted us. Tails? They’re tracking members of The Horde? All at once, puzzle pieces fit into place, and I realize this is why Aeson’s Wing couldn’t guard me tonight. This is why the king gathered The Horde to announce who I am. The Noctises wanted as many drakes here as they could get so they could monitor their reactions.

They set up a sting.

Quickly, I try to fit faces to the names Marteen and Piers, but I don’t remember either of those in any of the files the Syphons managed to access and go through.

“You’re looking for the traitors, aren’t you?” I ask, because what else could it be? I already know from the conversation I spied on that I’m bait tonight. I doubt there would be anything more pressing to the Noctises right now than finding out which dragons were involved in the rebellion sixty-two years ago.

“We’re looking for a lot of things,” Aeson answers cryptically as he continues to walk away.

That’s not a no.

I move to follow, determined not to be left behind when it comes to this. If anyone has earned the right to help bring down the bastards that betrayed the Syphons, it’s me. I’m halfway to the door when Aeson realizes I’m shadowing him, and he rounds on me.

“Not a chance, Claws. You’re staying right here,” he orders, like he has any right.

“You can eat my ass with that bossy bullshit, Commander,” I snap. “I can help.”

Aeson narrows his gaze at me, but he looks thoughtful for a beat. “You’re right, you can help,” he agrees, and relief pools in my stomach at the recognition. “Answers, Claws. That’s what you can help me with, and you better have them ready when I walk back through this door. I’m done playing around.”

He storms out of the room, taking Ogdan with him, and the door slams hard behind them. I’m left staring after Aeson, my mouth open in shock and my temper building into a bonfire of rage.

Is he serious? Done playing around?

“Well, that makes two of us, asshole,” I grumble, stomping the rest of the way across the room and grabbing the door handle.

My rage becomes a wildfire. One I have every intention of incinerating Aeson Noctis in when the door doesn’t open and I realize he just locked me in here.

Motherfucking dragon.

I pound on the door until my fists are guaranteed to bruise, and then I give it a few heel kicks for good measure, but no one answers my enraged summons. I plot vicious retribution and growl a steady stream of curses as I crouch down in front of the door knob and examine it. Threading my fingers through my hair, I pull out a few of the pins helping to keep everything in place.

Good thing I know how to pick a lock.