Page 44

Malik

M alik stumbled into an alley outside of Perrault’s, squinting at the bright noon sun overhead. He braced one hand against the cool stone wall and wiped at his nose.

“Damn.”

Blood still trickled out. No wonder he was so lightheaded. His insides roiled. The thought of the foul beverage he’d consumed and the poison he’d laced it with were enough to turn his stomach, to say nothing of the effect on his body. He would have tried to vomit it up right then and there if he wasn’t afraid of passing out in the street if he did so.

Maybe that would be preferable.

Somewhere deep down within him, something was starting to wake. It rumbled in his soul, a sleeping giant coming alive and shuddering the foundations of his being as it did.

He knew the risk of consuming blood, of giving into the darkness, what he might be sacrificing. He’d seen the monster it made of men—his father, Drystan, and others.

Falling prey to that same curse would have been worth it if his plan had worked completely, but his successes were limited. He’d ridden the world of some dragons, yes, but not the leader of the clutch. Nevitt had made that clear during his entrance, and Malik had no reason to believe he lied. Rather, fury like that spoke truth more than anything.

The young man had been strong with a sword, if unpracticed. The magic in his blood must have been potent to grant a gangly man like him such strength. Perhaps that was why he’d been taken into confidence. Loyal, too. He had chosen to end himself when it became obvious he’d lose the duel.

Though Malik hadn’t gotten the name he’d aimed for, the furious young man had let a few details slip. “He’s more than worthy of the title he was given. More than you!”

Few were given titles.

He was close. So close.

“I knew it,” a voice snarled from the end of the alleyway.

Fuck.

Mr. Rees Yarwood stalked his way with heavy, determined steps. The last thing Malik needed was another latecomer. His strength was waning. He needed rest, not another fight.

“I told my sister you were trouble,” Rees raged. “My father, too. Not worth the potential prize. But did they listen? No. And now I find you here at the secret meeting spot.”

Malik smiled weakly. “You’re a little late, I’m afraid.”

Rees grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall. “Don’t you dare associate me with that filth!”

Head throbbing, Malik replied, “I could say the same.”

He scoffed. “Says the self-proclaimed Dragon. I got your little letter.”

“And you knew the meeting place, so who’s the Dragon, exactly?”

“I didn’t know.” He shoved him back again. “I figured it out. Just in time, it seems.”

Malik summoned his strength and jerked free of the other man, pushing him back in the process. “If you’re looking for dragons, you’ll find several dead ones upstairs.”

His eyes widened. “You—”

Malik drew a dagger and frowned at the bit of blood still on one edge. “Should I add you to their number?”

Rees drew his own before squinting at Malik, appraising him in a new light. “You took them all out on your own?”

He shrugged. “Poison did most of the work.” After his mother died, Malik had started giving himself small doses from time to time. Not enough to kill, but enough to build up a tolerance. It was a precaution in case his father should choose to end him subtly as well. For once, it had come in handy. The poisoned blood hurt. It had weakened him. But it wasn’t swift and deadly like it had been for those not strengthened against it.

“So you were framed?” Rees asked.

“Not exactly. I did sign and send the letters. I hoped to lure out the leader of their little ring, possibly infuriate him enough to attend the meeting and reveal his identity. No such luck, by the bye. But I’ve never been and never will be a dragon. Surely, you know that Yarwoods always stick to the light,” Malik added, referencing the family name his mother had shared.

That seemed to strike home. The other man’s shoulders dropped, and he lowered the dagger. “She was right.”

“Your sister?”

“Miss Kinsley.”

A sudden sense of foreboding stole over him. Malik sheathed his dagger and shoved away from the wall. “What do you mean?”

Rees’s lips pressed thin. “I sought out the inspector this morning, planning to turn you in if no one had already. I’d heard he was at the Davies’ manor and ran into Miss Kinsley there. I showed her the letter.”

No. He stumbled a step, a deep hole opening in his chest. No. She was never meant to see that. He hadn’t told her before for fear that she’d try to stop him, and how could he deny her anything? She was supposed to be safe at the castle, far from all this. She should never have heard of any of it before he had time to explain.

“Where is she now?”

He had to get to her. Find her. Make this right. She had to know the truth.

“Looking for you, I presume.” Rees glanced away. “She was in quite a state when Lord Griffith arrived and offered his assistance.”

Malik stiffened. “Lord Griffith?”

“I advised him to take Miss Kinsley back to the castle, but she was adamant about finding you, and I daresay he wasn’t inclined to listen to me.”

His racing heart ratcheted up. If this revelation pushed her away, into the other man’s arms— He shut that thought down. No. She would never. But something about the situation hung over him like a specter of doom.

Title he was given.

Lord Griffith was one of few on that list. One closely connected to the dragons Malik had killed.

“Bronwyn is in trouble.”