Page 42

Chapter 42

MY THOUGHTS WIND IN AND around two words, scrutinizing every angle of them, mulling over what they could mean.

Soul Tied.

It can’t be, and yet, I’ve never heard of another connection that would explain what I think is happening, what’s already happened, if my suspicions are correct. I need to get back to The Scorch, and I need to look through my mother’s books that we recovered from The Wells. It’s the only place I’ve ever seen the term referenced as a link between dragons that died out when the Surgers did.

When Lorn mentioned that Aeson could feel my dragon, I chalked it up to the bond because Bonded Mates have been known to sense one another’s emotions or feel a strong connection to their mate’s source of power. But what I’m feeling with Aeson is different. It’s not just a sense of who he is at his core or reading how he’s feeling in general; I felt his dragon within me. I felt it like it was my own…and it wasn’t the first time.

I didn’t realize it then, but after the dungeon, when I was Source drunk, I felt the same thing. I wasn’t thinking about mates, or bonds, or anything like that then because I had no idea that I could trigger any kind of connection without revealing first, but now…now I think there’s more at play here than should be possible…unless…shit…but that would mean…

Out of nowhere, I trip. With a gasp and a squeal, I go careening forward. The only thing that stops me from faceplanting is Aeson’s quick reflexes. He grabs me, sets me on my feet, and holds me until I regain my balance. I tear the blindfold off my face and chuck it at him.

“This is bloody stupid,” I snap, bending down to rub my stinging foot. I have no idea where I lost my shoes, but somewhere between the ballroom and the training room, they disappeared.

“No. What’s stupid is you stubbornly insisting on walking when I offered to carry you,” Aeson argues.

I throw my head back and groan with frustration. “You were just inside of me. How are you okay with that level of trust, but the second you tuck your dick in your pants, it all disappears? Make it make sense! Why is it okay for me to see all of your secret passages , but the ones winding through King’s Keep are off-limits?”

I pull at the hem of his torn up shirt to make sure it hasn’t climbed up my thighs too high. Lucky for me, the back of his shirt was mostly intact, thanks to the protection of his now shredded suit jacket. I just threw the shirt on backward, and so far I’m not flashing anything I shouldn’t be. Aeson’s pants aren’t in the best shape, but at least we’re semi-clothed as we make our way back to his rookery.

“Do you really want to get into a discussion about trust, Claws? Because I have some questions about other Syphons that I’d love your honest and trustworthy opinion about if you’re up for it.”

This motherfucker.

I roll my eyes and level him with an unamused glower.

“Ask away, Spare. I’ll tell you exactly what I told your brother when he brought up his own suspicions. It’s possible others have survived just like I did, but I can’t say one way or the other if it’s true or simply wishful thinking on your part.”

“Oh, so we’re back to Spare ?” he asks with faux indignation. “What happened to Aeson, you feel so fucking good, yes, right there, fuck me like the god you are ,” he mimics in an exaggerated falsetto that sounds nothing like me.

My cheeks heat.

Crap.

Did I really say all of that…out loud? I mean, I know I hit a point where I went half catatonic and fully incoherent, but I didn’t think I’d let the god shit spill out.

I shove away my chagrin and cross my arms over my chest as though the power stance will protect me from any more embarrassment. “My bad, I didn’t realize we were switching the pet names up this early in our relationship. I’ll be sure to call you exactly that in front of your father the next time we’re all together.”

Aeson laughs. He closes the distance between us and presses a soft kiss to my lips. I freeze, unsure what to think about the casual and yet intimate act. My insides squirm while also feeling oddly giddy, and the rest of me can’t decide if I’m dubious about this development or into it.

He opens his arms to me. “Come on, I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” he offers while trying to hand me back the blindfold.

My answering look shouts you have to be kidding me .

“Thirteen strides that way.” I point directly behind us. “Take a left, fourteen strides, another left, five strides, a right, two strides, a left, eighteen strides, another right, thirty two strides to get to the stairwell where I’ll take eight flights down, swing a right, take thirteen more strides down before I hit another set of stairs, and then I’ll be back in the hallway that leads to the ballroom,” I recite.

Aeson’s stare fills with surprise and then indignation. “How the hell did you do that?”

“It’s called counting, Spare. Not all of us can be wealthy scions who get by solely on their looks,” I taunt with exaggerated exasperation.

It’s probably better to keep things lighthearted instead of pointing out that I was held prisoner for months by the Tainted, often with my senses being spelled to make it difficult to figure out where I was. I got creative in trying to decipher things, especially potential escape routes in case the opportunity ever presented itself.

I turn to continue to make my way down the rest of the corridor, but I’m scooped off my feet and thrown over a wide, hard shoulder. I shriek my protest and a large hand slaps my ass in response.

“I’ll show you counting… One,” he calls out and then spanks me playfully again. “Two…” Spank. “Three…”

I shout an objection, but it quickly morphs into a squeal with each palm against my ass cheeks. I try to flip off Aeson’s shoulder, but he has a firm hold on my legs, and I can’t dislodge myself.

“Four,” he taunts, and I squirm to get out of his hold, but my laughter is sapping me of my strength and making me easy prey.

“Welcome home, Commander Noctis and Ever Noctis,” I hear a robotic feminine voice greet, and I look up and realize that we must have exited a hidden passage that put us right by Aeson’s rookery.

The door to the tower unlocks, and I can tell by the displacement of air and the gentle breeze against the back of my thighs that it’s swinging open. I study the walls around us, but I don’t see evidence of a hidden panel in the wall or even a seam in the stone that would tell me where we just came from. He carries me into the main room of his quarters, and I decide I’ll have to look for the hidden door in the hallway another time. Maybe it has that same kind of tech that hides it like Aeson’s trove does in his room.

“Put me down, you brute,” I snap before slapping the commander hard on his ass when I realize I have a pretty good angle to do a little of my own spanking.

He chuckles and sets me on my feet. I pull at the hem of my shirt to make sure everything is still covered and turn around, my smile faltering when I find all of Aeson’s Wing spread out around us in serious guard mode. My gaze lands on a stranger’s as he rises from a couch, and I instantly realize why everyone looks so tense.

He’s a member of the king’s Wing.

Aeson comes up behind me, and I feel the exact moment he spots the visitor because he goes stiff.

“Raeger,” he greets tersely, and I look back to see him offer the Channeler a nod.

“Scion,” Raeger acknowledges just as curtly. “I’m just dropping off a missive,” he explains, which is when I notice the gold disc in the drake’s hand.

Aeson steps around me and approaches the male, his arm stretched out expectantly.

“It’s not for you, Scion. It’s for the scioness,” Raeger announces, bypassing Aeson so he can hand me the golden disc. “The king passes along his wishes for a safe and expeditious trip,” the Channeler informs me, and then without another word, he proceeds to walk toward the door and promptly leave.

Aeson’s stare moves from the front entrance to me, all lightness and humor in his blue eyes replaced by wariness. One of his eyebrows lifts in question.

“Trip?” he queries flatly.

I look down at the disc in my hands, and surprise trickles through me. I didn’t think King Noctis would arrange the meeting tonight. I thought it would take more time than that.

Instead of answering Aeson, I compress a button in the center of the disc, and four holographic documents blink into existence directly above the device. There’s a royal authorization from the king, allowing me limited access to a restricted area that’s not named. From the look of things, the pass is good for exactly four days, and based on the activation time, I’m expected to leave as soon as possible. There’s a packing list that consists of warm clothing, temperature packs, and instructions not to bring my com. The third document is encoded and meant to be deciphered only by my escort, and the last image is a note from Lorn, offering to take me if Aeson refuses.

That gives me pause. Why would Aeson refuse?

I release my thumb on the disc, and the documents all disappear. I stare off at nothing for a moment. Why would I need to meet the Matron in a restricted area? Was that at her request or the king’s? Someone clears their throat, and I’m pulled from my thoughts and focus back on Aeson and his Wing, who have closed in around us.

“I think it’s time you answer my question now,” Aeson declares as he grimly looks from the disc in my hand back up to me. “What did my father agree to give you as part of your deal?”

In answer, I toss Aeson the disc and watch as he reads through the documents. As soon as he gets to the encoded destination, anger and suspicion flash through his features. He’s quick to banish them, but there’s an undeniable tension now radiating off him while he moves on to read Lorn’s note. When he finishes, he studies me intently and it’s as though I can see him fortifying his defenses breath by breath, brick by brick, until the sexy, easygoing male I’ve spent the last few hours with is gone, and in his place is the hard, unyielding commander I know all too well.

My heart lurches, and the moths in my stomach are threatening to crawl up my throat as unease and hurt wash through me.

“Why, of all places, would you ask to go here?” he asks cooly, holding up the golden disc, and I feel the icy bite of his accusing tone nip at me.

I recoil and study the scion as he hands the missive to Ogdan, who quickly surveys it, his demeanor growing just as stiff and stony as Aeson’s.

I scowl, unsure what to make of this. Is it still the deal that’s pissing Aeson off, or is it something else now?

“I haven’t been clued in to exactly where we’re going, but I requested a meeting with the head of the Relacour sorcai, and whatever is encoded on that disc is where your father saw fit to host it,” I answer, ignoring the ache in my chest that’s throbbing in time with the one starting to hammer inside my skull. It’s been a long night.

Aeson looks over at Farrow and Karis, and then both Thrashers move to flank him. They stare at me with that blank look that tells me they’re ready to comb through everything I say in search of lies or any hints of deception.

I reel back, looking from the Thrashers to the commander. Even now, after everything, he’s still trying to catch me in a lie. I shake my head, disappointment mixing with my anger and dejection. I was worried that tonight would change things between us, that everything would be different after being with him. But it never dawned on me that accepting Aeson’s bond would change nothing at all. And yet, as I’m met with the same mistrust and skepticism that I’ve been up against from the first second I laid eyes on the scion in the streets of Lairwood, I realize I’ve made a glaring overestimation about what tonight meant to him.

“And here I was thinking we were past this,” I tell the commander flatly, a bone-deep wariness and heartache suddenly weighing me down.

“Why do you want to meet with the Relacour Matron?” Aeson asks instead of acknowledging any aspect of what I just said.

Fine. If this is how he wants things to be between us, cold and disconnected, then he’ll get exactly that. I can do frigid bitch with the best of ’em.

“Because Relacour Blood Crafters played a major role in the wyvern and sorcai rebellion, and I strongly believe that they are the ones responsible for the curse on the Syphons. If there’s anyone capable of fixing what was done to me, it will be the Matron,” I answer smoothly.

“And if she can’t break your curse, is your deal with my father void?” Aeson queries, his intonation flat, but the anger in his eyes cutting.

I scoff and look at him like I’m seeing him for the first time.

Maybe I am.

“Wow. So eager to torch every ounce of goodwill we just built, aren’t you?” I lob at him.

“Answer the question,” he growls back.

My answering glare is blistering, but he’s not cowed in the slightest.

“My agreement with your father was for him to arrange a meeting with the Matron, but don’t worry, regardless of whether or not she can break my curse, you and I are still a thing . And before you try to make this more about you than you already have, let’s get one thing clear, this has nothing to do with you, Aeson. I wanted a chance to be whole, to free my dragon, to take back what was stolen from me. Your father promised me a shot at that, and I took it, because it’s a fuck ton more than anyone else has ever given me.”

My chest heaves with the effort it takes to reel in my emotions. I showed Aeson enough of my vulnerability tonight; he doesn’t get to see any more.

“I’ve been here for weeks, and not one of you assholes has bothered to ask me what I want out of all of this, or even how I feel about it. You’ve ordered me around, lectured me, made decisions on my behalf, treated me like I’m nothing more than a pawn or a puppet, and then had the audacity to get mad at me for protecting myself, for ensuring that I get what I need from this fucked-up situation.”

I angrily gesture at the commander, his Wing, and then to the room all around me.

“If you want to be pissed, go for it, but aim that shit at each other where it belongs. I’m doing what I’ve always done. I’m surviving. I’m looking out for myself because no one else is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to pack…and call Lorn.”

I turn to leave, rubbing at the anguish in my chest and quickly blinking back the emotion welling in my eyes.

“Lorn won’t be taking you,” Aeson calls after me.

“Since I prefer him over you at the moment, I disagree,” I shout back as I head toward my room. If I turn around, I’m going to get vicious and that’s not going to end well for anyone.

“It’s either me or you’re not going,” Aeson threatens, and I stop and slowly turn to face him.

He’s still only wearing his diced up suit pants. His muscles and dragon mark are on full display, as is the tension that’s rolling off him in waves. “We’ll be ready in thirty,” he states before crossing his arms like he’s preparing for a fight.

Any other day, I might have been up to giving him one. But right now, I don’t give two shits about squaring off with him or his bruised ego. I care about meeting with the Matron and breaking this curse. If I have to put up with his surly ass to do that, then so be it.

“Fine,” I bite back. “But Aeson,” I call as he turns to leave, “you’re my mate not my master. Be sure you don’t get those two mixed up, or you’ll be nothing to me at all.”