The look she gives me could strip paint. It reminds me of the time I tricked Jax into eating grave dirt to commune with an ancestor. He was six, and I was still smarting from the junior hex he’d planted on me.
Jax.I wonder how he’s recovering, maybe still wrapped in spirits, still buried, still recovering from Mazrov’s dragon-energy-infused blow…
“A darkblood,” Raelle exhales. “Never did I imagine?—”
“That a mangy darkblood would set foot in your precious palace, yes, I’ve heard it all before,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “Just get it out of your system so I can make it to the bar.”
She gasps, looking downright insulted, while Colonel Rogon gives me the kind of glare that makes execution a more favorable conclusion than what he’d probably do to me.
“My apologies, Colonel.” I reluctantly mend this particular fence under Dayn’s watchful eye. “It’s just that… I didn’t choose to come here. It was never my intention to come here. And frankly, I’d very much like to leave, but until that becomes possible, I’d rather be a quiet guest without being insulted wherever I go.”
Rogon draws a deep breath.
But Dayn takes the lead. “Tonight is my celebration, Colonel.”
“Oh, but it is!” Raelle crows. “Come join us on the terrace—the Second Squadron and I were just revisiting memories of our training days. Remember it? Our old academy above ground?”
The dragons had a world of their own before they were drivenbelow. I’d almost forgotten. With caves and cities and universities of their own. Places to gather and learn, to worship and grow. Much like us. They’re not that different from us, at the end of the day. Powerful, misunderstood—perhaps, willing to cross the hardest lines in order to achieve their prime objectives. It’s what makes them so dangerous.
They were supposed to be completely extinct.
Now, there’s at least a couple hundred thousand. The tables may turn.
“I remember,” Dayn says after a pause, “but I’ll escort my guest tonight. We’ll revisit those stories later.”
Raelle scowls as I lean into Dayn—purely to rattle her, though I’d rather vanish.
Rogon clears his throat. “Your father has called a council meeting at dawn. Will you attend, Daynthazar?”
“Yes. We’ll speak then,” Dayn says, and then Rogon adds, “Your return—even under these circumstances—has lifted the court’s spirits.” Rogon casts me another side-glance.
Fortunately for him, I’m used to being looked down upon. The clearbloods do it often, too. Until they have to deal with the consequences.
Dayn inclines his head, then steers me away. We weave through the crowd of nobles—handshakes, false smiles, the same rehearsed questions about our bond. Each time Dayn offers a curt answer, my teeth grind as I wait for the scrutiny to end.
“The lady of the hour!” a familiar voice rings out.
Byzu suddenly pushes through the crowd, dark hair gleaming, leather outfit fitted snug to his toned frame. Relief crosses Dayn’s face as a House Meraxis noble releases him. Ialmostpity him.
“I hardly deserve the title,” I mutter to the second youngest Draxion brother, forcing a brittle smile.
“Oh, but you do,” Byzu replies, grin wicked. “Everyone’s buzzing about you.”
Dayn exhales. “Byzu, weren’t you meant to remain with Father until dinner?”
“I’d like a dance with your darkblood, first.”
“Excuse me?” I blurt out. “Why?”
“Because you’re the mostdangerous-looking lady around. And I invoke my right to the First Dance,” Byzu shoots back, turning my frown into a glare.
“The First Dance? Really?” Dayn’s voice drips with disdain.
Byzu only shrugs. “Etiquette is etiquette. If a lady isn’t danced upon entering, her partner forfeits the right. Any other dragon may claim her for the first turn.”
“I know the rule, Shorttail,” Dayn snaps, his voice a low growl that cuts through the surrounding whispers. “It doesn’t mean I’ll allow it.”
“It’s Longtail, brother, and you have no choice.” The grin Byzu flashes is pure, unadulterated victory. Before I can voice a single protest, his hand closes around my wrist, a warm, firm grip that sends a jolt of alarm through me. I’m swept from Dayn’s side and onto the polished dance floor in a single, fluid motion.
