Chapter 6

“THE EASY WAY, I GUESS…for now,” I concede, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling up at the redheaded male in black scale armor, who’s finding this exchange entirely too amusing.

It’s unsettling. I always figured The Horde had one setting, arrogant and severe, but the playful air about this drake has me off-kilter when I really can’t afford to be. Ogdan’s smile grows wider and he waves a hand in the direction of the onyx lirocar to the left. Five drakes stand around it as though they’re waiting on me to load up.

I notice there’s a drake that’s half a foot smaller than the others. Initially I discount the detail as unimportant until they turn around and I realize it’s a female. Her black hair is buzzed close to the scalp, making her pretty bronze face look harsher. Well, that and the don’t fucking talk to me air about her. Her scale armor is a deep green, and while smaller in stature, she’s as fit and formidable as the males around her.

Despite myself, I’m instantly curious about how she’s here and why, but I tuck all my questions away and move toward the vehicle as ordered. Ogdan falls into step next to me, his gray eyes studying my every move. I can’t tell if he’s being curious or cautious. Probably both.

We approach the vehicle, and the agitation I’m attempting to ignore—because I can’t do shit about it—only grows. I’ve never been in a lirocar before. The autos and sandcycles we drive in The Scorch are nothing more than scrap that’s been pieced together with a blowtorch and a death wish. This vehicle, however, is more like a piece of art. I’m hesitant to even touch it.

I peek inside the airboat, unable to help myself, and find the interior is as lush and spacious as you’d expect. There are wood accents, buttery soft looking seats, and a clear disregard for practicality because everything is done in tones of cream and taupe. I’m pretty sure I’m staining things just by looking at them. Lucky for me, people who drive shit like this don’t care about paltry things like dirt. They’ll just get the interior redone at the first sign of soiling, or better yet, throw the whole car out and buy a new one. The haters from the bathroom sure as shit got one thing right—these things cost more than the GDP of most territories.

I stand there awkwardly and continue to just stare. I know I’m supposed to get in, but I have no idea where to sit now that I’m looming in the open doorway of this behemoth. There’s a bank of three seats that back up to a privacy screen I assume is separating us from the driver and front passenger. Another bank of three seats butt up against the back, and there are two captain’s chairs in the middle that face each other from opposite sides of the vehicle.

Picking up on my obvious discomfort, Ogdan brushes past me and climbs in first, showing me how it’s done. I pull in a deep breath, blow it out, and then move to follow, ignoring everything inside of me screaming not to.

“Into the mouth of the dragon,” I mumble under my breath as I step into the luxurious leather and teak interior.

A low chuckle from behind me tells me my comment hasn’t gone as unnoticed as I thought it would. I look back to find the blond climbing in. Light from the interior dances across his scale armor, and I discern that it is, in fact, dark blue.

“Not quite, Frills, but I’d be happy to introduce you to all the pleasures that can be had in the mouth of a dragon if you’re interested,” he offers with a naughty smile and a cheeky wag of his eyebrows.

“Chastain! Unless you want your tongue ripped out, you will not speak to her like that again. Understood?”

Chastain’s back snaps straight and his mouth clamps closed. “My apologies, Commander. I’m used to teasing Tove. Won’t happen again,” he shouts, military sharp, saluting Aeson as the dark drake strides closer to the open doorway. He stops and leans toward the blond.

“Tove is Tove. Lorn will gut you if he hears you talking like that, and I’m not far off from doing the same. Get your shit together. We don’t even know her.”

Chastain nods apologetically at Aeson and then climbs into the lirocar, plopping down into a seat at the back.

I decide on one of the captain’s chairs, not wanting to be close enough to touch any of the drakes piling in. I settle and look up just in time to see Commander Aeson drop down in the seat opposite me.

My stomach constricts with apprehension.

His long stout legs almost touch mine, his large frame managing to crowd me even from the other side of the car. I get the distinct impression he’s purposely trying to prod at my limits to see how I’ll react. It doesn’t feel antagonistic or like a display of dominance one might expect from a large, virile, male dragon. It feels…calculated…measured. He’s testing me, but I don’t know why.

My eyes once again land on the bands on his arms and the symbols etched there. There’s something about them or him that’s pecking at my intuition. I can’t pinpoint what though. He’s obviously in charge and respected based on the way the others respond to his authority. The relaxed banter and easygoing exchanges happening back and forth speak to a deeper connection and admiration between him and the others.

It reminds me, surprisingly, of me and my Flight. And while that should be something that offers a little comfort in this nightmare of a situation, I find the exact opposite is true. It’s unsettling.

“See something of interest?” Aeson asks, the resonant gravel in his tone yanking me from my thoughts.

I look up and find the commander watching me. He dips his chin toward his arm, at exactly where I was staring, and lifts a single eyebrow in inquiry.

I glare at him in answer.

Instead of being bothered by enmity, amusement flickers in his vivid blue eyes.

“Who’s buying the first round when we get back?” Chastain solicits, a carefree grin once again stretched across his pretty-boy face.

“Mission’s not over yet,” Ogdan rebukes. “You know better than to jinx it, airhead.”

“I’m just glad there’s actually a female to retrieve and this wasn’t the elaborate trap we thought it might be,” Jori observes, kicking his legs out and making himself comfortable.

“It could still be a trap,” the female Horde member grumbles as she climbs into the car. She kicks Jori’s legs until he retracts them, and the commander swivels to the side so she can pass between us, claiming a seat at the front. “In the wild, the prettiest things are often the deadliest,” she adds, staring right at me.

“Spoken like a true Seeder,” Ogdan taunts, and the female flips him off.

I make note of her designation and the vine-like dragon marks she has winding around her fingers and crawling up both hands before disappearing under the scale armor covering her arms. They’ve got a plant whisperer and an air tamer, I observe, looking back at Chastain, the brick wall I first ran into.

There’s at least one more Channeler in this group, and Jori’s carob armor tells me he’s a Render. My guess is he’s the Flight Healer, with the way he rushed to check on Aeson after the bastard rescued me against my will. Both Ogdan and the commander across from me are Burners, but I don’t see a Thrasher piling in with us.

The lack kindles the smallest ember of possibility that I might be able to get away if I just bide my time. Then again, I can’t see the driver or front passenger beyond the privacy glass, so I probably shouldn’t hold my breath.

“Tove doesn’t mean anything by the deadly thing,” a male I haven’t encountered yet informs me as he climbs into the airboat. “That’s just her winning personality shining through,” he teases, reaching toward me like he’s going to pat my shoulder.

Reflexively, I smack his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” I warn, danger dripping off my tone.

Wide-eyed, the male lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My apologies,” he offers, moving quickly away from me toward the back.

Everyone in the vehicle is quiet, like my reaction set them all on edge.

Good. They can join the club.

Six of them have piled into the fancy airboat now, and I can feel them watching me as closely as I’m watching them. It makes me antsy, prickly. I want to scrub the stares from my skin.

The airboat doors suddenly hiss closed, and the lirocar starts to rise off the ground. The gradual lift is accompanied by a magical hum that grows louder as the vehicle spins until it’s facing the direction it wants. With zero warning, it shoots forward and I gasp at the shock of speed achieved in no time flat. I grab onto the seat beneath me to keep from tumbling sideways into Chastain’s lap.

We cut through the flyway like a perfectly honed arrow that’s been let loose by an expert archer. Buildings blink by in a flash, and the ride is smooth, speedy, and annoyingly…fun. Ren would have gotten a kick out of this, even if death by dragon was at the end of the excursion.

An ache starts in my chest, and I try to ignore it, focusing on the city of Lairwood as it disappears behind us. The sun finally decides to set, blues and purples blooming across the sky and chasing away the other pretty colors. I try to lose myself in the scenery out there instead of concentrating on all of the brooding dragons in here, but the windows around the lirocar suddenly shift from translucent to opaque, robbing me of the welcome distraction.

I guess I’ll just have to imagine what it looks like out there—a skill I’ve gotten quite good at over the last few months. It will probably be dark the next time I set foot outside, and I wonder if I’ll get a chance to see the stars before they rip my head from my body.

Enslee’s voice rings in my mind. “You can do this, Ever. If anyone can, it’s you.” I try to let her faith buoy me, but everything is crashing in, and I feel like it’s only a matter of time before I’m pulled under and drowning.

I run my thumb down my inner forearm, an unfortunate habit I’ve picked up in the past month or so. But something about counting the scars there helps to calm my mind. It definitely helped to anchor me to reality in that cell when I felt the tethers of my sanity on the verge of snapping.

Unfortunately, thanks to the charm still sitting on my ankle, I don’t feel the scars.

All I feel is lost.

“The healers mentioned that they thought you’d spent some time with blood brokers. Is that true?” Aeson asks, his question invading my churning thoughts and my attempt at calm.

I deliberate if there’s anything to gain by snubbing his question. I dart a quick glance at the others surrounding me, my gaze pausing on Ogdan for a beat before settling back on the commander. Guess it’s time to try to do what Enslee ordered and play the game. I chose the easy way already—might as well ride it out a little longer.

“I don’t know that spent some time is the phrase I’d use for it,” I finally answer, hating that speaking to them at all is my best chance for survival.

“How long did they have you?”

I study the commander’s face, trying to read the intention behind this line of questioning right now, but the emotionless mask he has in place is solid. My gaze dips to the dragon mark on his throat before I look away.

“By my last count, one hundred seventeen days, give or take a few I might have been unconscious for,” I offer nonchalantly.

A low rumble of anger rolls through the car, instantly ratcheting up the tension. A few of the drakes adjust their positions like they suddenly can’t restrain their restlessness, but one look from Aeson and the noise and furious fidgeting stops.

A heavy silence settles between us, and I find myself wondering if their reaction is because they hate blood brokers or if it’s because they’re Horde, and a slight against one dragon is a slight against all dragons. Something they can’t allow or they risk looking weak and opening the door to having their reign challenged.

“How did they get you?” Chastain asks.

My eyes dart to the blond Channeler and then back to Aeson, trying to gauge how the commander feels about the other’s uninvited insertion into the interrogation. There’s no hint of annoyance or reprimand in the commander’s gaze. Maybe this is a thing they do to throw their captives off guard. They act all friendly and curious, making the unsuspecting victim feel comfortable, and then they strike.

I suppose it’s good I’m not unsuspecting.

I find everything they do suspicious.

“How they get everyone,” I reply with a shrug. “Wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But where’s your family, your kindred? Wasn’t anyone protecting you?” the male who’s hand I slapped away earlier questions.

I eye him and his rich purple scale armor. I originally pegged him as a Channeler, but the glyphs of his dragon mark tell me otherwise. He’s a Render, a Shield more specifically. I want to study the lines and circular shapes on the side of his neck, but I stop myself and look away.

“Gone,” I reply after a beat. “And, recent circumstances excluded, I can usually protect myself.”

Incredulous huffs puff out from more than one of the drakes surrounding me, and I roll my eyes.

“Not everyone has to be part of the big bad Dragon Horde to get by in life,” I point out.

“Said by someone who clearly doesn’t know what it means to be part of The Dragon Horde,” Tove retorts, and I glare over at the female.

“Think you’ve got me pegged, Seeder?” I prod, unable to help myself.

She matches my glare with one of her own.

“No, little lizard, I just know bullshit when I hear it.”

I swallow down a groan at her jab. I’m never going to live down the lizard thing if I survive this. It’s probably good that the odds aren’t in my favor. My Flight back home would be dying if they knew how badly my brain betrayed me when I needed it most.

“I guess you’ve got it all figured out, then,” I counter, sitting back in my seat and purposefully shutting my mouth.

This does earn a flicker of annoyance from Aeson, who levels her with an unhappy look. Tove drops her eyes in a gesture of submission, her body language and immediate silence contrite.

“Well, I don’t have it figured out,” Jori announces. “I can’t even tell if she’s one of us or not.”

“She’s a dragon,” Aeson declares confidently, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. I try to study the expression on his face, but his new position dips his features in the shadows of the dim interior, and I can’t get a good read.

I’m tempted to ask him how he’s so sure. I know I don’t smell like one to them, and none of them have magically tested my blood, but I keep my lips sealed.

“Should we take bets, Commander?” Chastain jibes.

“If you’re stupid enough to go up against Aes, I’ll gladly take your credits,” Tove taunts.

“She’s not scared,” Aeson announces, the statement cutting into the easygoing revelry and instantly silencing it.

My heart stutters when he leans forward again, his blue eyes fixed on mine like he’s excavating my soul in order to unearth my secrets one vulnerable layer at a time.

“She’s frustrated, reckless when cornered, savvy, and weaker than she wants any of us to know, but she’s not terrified.”

Anger flares through me, tensing my muscles and settling in the look I aim at the commander like daggers eager to draw blood and maim.

“I am not weak,” I tell him, my tone an open invitation for him to test me and find out for himself. It doesn’t matter that he could burn me to a crisp in two seconds flat and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it, or that he’d heal from any injuries inflicted in a fight and I wouldn’t. I don’t care that he’s Horde, or a member of the Royal Wing, and I’m nothing more than some sand-stamped lostling; I’ll spoon-feed him those words if it’s the last thing I do.

He stares at me as though weighing my mettle right then and there. “No. Not weak,” he agrees after a long pause where the tension in the car grows so thick and heavy I’m surprised it doesn’t force the airboat to fall out of the sky from the sheer weight of it. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant hurt. You’re hurting and you don’t want us to know.”

Shock shoves at my fury and scrapes at parts of me I thought I was an expert at hiding. I batten down the hatches on my secrets and tuck my trauma more firmly against me.

Aeson gives me a look I can’t decipher, and then his eyes dip down my body. Warily, I follow his gaze until it lands on my naked thigh, exposed through the tear in my skirt. I notice for the first time a long shallow scratch there that’s barely weeping blood. I have no idea when it happened.

I stare at the scrape, somehow not convinced that’s what the commander was truly talking about. I feel alarmingly wounded by his well-aimed words, but did he get off a lucky shot, or is he a skilled marksman?

Unease ripples through me and I’m unsure if I want to lash out at whoever this Commander Aeson is or hide from him for my own safety.

“When was the last time you met an Arc who wasn’t afraid of us on some level? And yet here she sits, not a whiff of dread coming off her,” the commander concludes, resting his case and once again relaxing back into his seat.

The raw intensity winding between us shatters like winter ice against the first touch of spring. Internally I shiver off whatever the fuck just happened and rally. Double-checking my defensive mask is right where it needs to be, I shake my head and smile at the commander like he’s got it all wrong.

“That’s quite some ego your neck is supporting, Commander ,” I taunt. “Explains why you’re so big though—gotta have plenty of room for all that shit you’re full of.”

I hear a low hiss of affront from one of the drakes, and Ogdan starts to choke on either his shock or amusement. He coughs, pressing a fist to his chest to help clear his airway.

“You are right about one thing. I’ll give you that at least,” I accede, my gaze growing venomous. “I’m not scared. But not for the reasons you might think. I’m just not afraid to die.”

I expect the commander to take offense at my jabs, but he once again surprises me when his only reaction is a satisfied smirk.

“And that’s where this is leading…your death?” he asks evenly, like he’s got me right where he wants me in this complex web he seems to be weaving. “What makes you so certain?”

My answering chuckle is hollow. “Because that’s what The Horde does. You can pretend otherwise, but we all know if you can’t claim, control, or comprehend something, you kill it.”

“And which category do you fall under?” he presses, his gaze glittering with ardent interest.

Tired of this game already, I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes with a smirk. “All of them.”