“Reminding your borrowed power of its true nature,” she replies. With a swift movement, she spins me around, pinning both my arms behind my back. The position forces me to my knees, my muscles trembling with the effort to resist.
So she knows? Or she senses it?
“Now, my lady, we must have a lesson in etiquette,” she says. “Any form of disrespect to any of the noble houses, particularly the ruling dynasty of Draxion, is considered an egregious crime in Draethys. It can be punishable with prison or worse. And you calling the heir to the throne a son of a…in public… Let’s just say, it could get you killed before you even think of a way out of Draethys.”
“We’re not in public,” I growl. “And let go of me.”
“Only if you calm down.”
“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you mean,” I grate out. “I just need Dayn to come down here.”That prick has got some explaining to do.
“You cannot let anyone else hear you speak of him this way!” she insists. But she releases me slowly, her voice now softer and courteous and practically pleading for common sense. “For your sake, above all. I understand that this must be a confusing, distressing situation, but you cannot kick or punch your way out of here.”
She’s so polite, I almost feel bad enough to stand down.
Almost.
I turn my right palm over and manage to summon a small shadow wisp. My skin tingles all over as the dark energy seeps back through my skin and concentrates into a potentially harmful sphere—depending on my intentions.
“I can find other ways to get myself out of here,” I warn Nyssa. “And don’t think your fearsome little clan scares me. I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.”
Nyssa doesn’t budge. She does, however, stare at the shadow energy swirling just an inch above my open palm. Her slim brows furrow with a glimmer of caution and curiosity.
“That is certainly uncanny. It’s dark, yet you burn hot like us,” she whispers.
I hurl the shadow sphere at her. Nyssa slides to the side and dodges the blow, then approaches with clear intent to subdue me again.
But I’m not suicidal by continuing to fight her. I realized from our first fracas that she’s under clear orders not to hurt me, otherwise she would’ve burned me to a crisp by now.
I need to use that to my advantage.First rule of combat: test, observe, gather information.
I put both hands close together and summon a long blade of shadows. I lunge at Nyssa.
Again, she moves out of my reach, her expression increasingly curious. “What are you?”
“I wish I had an answer,” I reply. “I also wish you’d just back off and let me out. I need to speak to your precious Lord Dayn—whatever.”
It dawns on me that the whole blood drinking ritual and its unintended consequences may be too foreign a concept for Nyssa to wrap her head around, even if shesensesI have dragon power mingled with my blood. I don’t owe her an explanation, either, especially since I have so many unanswered questions myself. Which is why finding Dayn sooner rather than later is imperative.
“Daynthazar.”
A familiar, deep baritone voice startles me.
2
ESME
Iwhip toward the sound, shadow-blade still in my hand. I didn’t even hear him come in.
But there he stands framed in the threshold, his black tunic trimmed in gold and ruby catching the torchlight, a midnight lock falling over his forehead. A dragon’s head buckle gleams at his waist, drawing the eye to the breadth of his shoulders, to the easy way he carries himself, like he knows exactly what power does to a room.
“You.” The word rips from me like venom.
“Me.” His smirk is infuriatingly casual as he inclines his head toward Nyssa. “Forgive my guest, Nyssa. What she lacks in etiquette, she more than makes up for in potential.”
“Potential,” I echo, shifting my stance toward him. “I’ll show you potential.”
“Put that away before you poke somebody’s eye out with it,” Dayn replies bluntly and raises his hand.
