Page 57 of Ignite the Infernos

“What’s wrong?” I press, sensing the tension in that statement straightaway.

“A great many things,” Aeson quips, but there’s a current of apprehension in it. “You’ll have to be more specific. Breakfast is on the table, by the way.”

“We have a table?” I query, surprised.

“We have a table,” Aeson parrots, as though it’s no big deal, but I’ve never had my very own table before.

I’ve never had much of my very own anything, really.

Abandoning Aeson’s cloak and the other warm blankets I piled on the floor, I get up to search for said table. Sure enough, it’s nestled in the corner behind the lounge area. Archways frame the cozy spot, guaranteeing an incomparable view, and two chairs are tucked against the round top, but more could easily be added if needed.

“What’s going on with the king?” I ask as I traverse the expanse of the room in search of sustenance. “He couldn’t get out of the Hall of Justice fast enough after he read whatever came through on his com.”

Aeson doesn’t say anything, and I look over to find him leaning against the back of the enormous couch, his stare homed in on my bare legs. The sleep shorts and tops I asked Nixy to make as a cover for getting a message to Enslee were sitting in a drawer in a closet bigger than the bottom floor of the stack. The fabric is buttery soft, has a secret compartment for a small knife sewn into the waist, and apparently leaves more skin on display than the commander was prepared to combat today.

“Aeson,” I bark, and his eyes snap up to mine. “Your father?” I nudge. “Stare at my legs all you want, but multitask at least.”

One corner of his mouth twitches in rebellion, like it’s trying for a smile despite the scowl that’s currently locked in place. I observe the table laden with covered dishes. I’m tempted to pretend it’s too much food, but these days I can clear this and then some in one fell swoop. I tuck in and look up in surprise when Aeson pulls out the chair opposite me and sits down.

“The Conclave of Dukes is making a fuss. They do it every now and again, exerting what little power and control they have just because they can. I’m sure it will blow over soon,” he says casually, but the tic in his jaw screams things are not that simple.

“What’s the fuss?”

“Us. Our bond. You,” he supplies, more gravel in his tone than was there before.

I watch him for a few moments while I eat, considering what he’s saying and what he’s not.

“When Lorn first told me that we had formed a bond, he mentioned that they can be tampered with before they’re complete. That if left too long, I might reach a state where I’d be so out of my mind and desperate that anyone could step in, and I would bond with them. Is that what the dukes are trying to do?” I ask, fighting the rage invading my thoughts, and a shiver of revulsion.

To think that anyone would do that to a dragon or dragoness is heinous. To know the powerful dukes are even hinting at such a thing makes me want to bathe in their blood and wear their scales as armor until my own appears.

Aeson looks surprised by my understanding of the situation, and I flick away the pique that starts buzzing around my head. “You really need to stop underestimating, Spare,” I sigh.

His eyes flash with heat at the nickname, and I feel the same warmth roar to life deep in my belly, before it migrates much lower.

I hold his gaze and add, “I promise, I’m far more acquainted with the evils of men than you will ever be.”

The fire in his eyes gutters at that, and a cold wall slams into place between us. Although which one of us is responsible for said wall, I couldn’t say.

Aeson brushes a hand through his dark hair, and the casual shirt he’s wearing clings tightly to his muscular arms. “They’re phrasing it in a much more palatable way, but yes, ultimately that is what the dukes are trying to do. They are questioning the validity of the bond, and since you haven’t been here to contradict the claims, they gained ground using our nature and laws against us.”

Like a thick fog, guilt rolls through me. It veils everything, and I suddenly struggle to find my way through it. I just wanted to break the curse. I didn’t want to put the Fae Gate at risk or endanger our bond like this.

“So what do we do?” I ask, stacking my empty plates and pulling the food on the other ones closer. “I’m assuming I can’t waltz in and defend our bond now.”

“No,” Aeson agrees, his stare faraway and fixed on something outside. “They’ll just use it to discredit you somehow. They’ll insinuate you’re brainwashed or don’t understand how bonds work—you get the idea. You’ll have to meet them, interact with them enough that their claims lose merit. Lorn and my father are negotiating things as we speak.”

A rumble of displeasure starts in my chest, making the delicious crepe in my mouth taste like ash. “Can I just kill a few dukes and call it a day?”

Aeson huffs a hollow laugh and rubs the back of his neck as he turns to look at me. “You could challenge them, but as much as I’d like a few of the Conclave seats to open up to new blood, you’re a new dragon, and despite your affinity, a battle in the air with any of the dukes would be a suicide mission.”

“And you can’t challenge them because you’re a Scion,” I add on, knowing the laws that establish The Horde hierarchy are far-reaching and exceedingly difficult to navigate—by design, of course.

Unease pools in my chest at Aeson’s mention of my affinity and my dragon. I need to tell him, I should tell him, but when I open my mouth to do just that, all that comes out is “I need to see a healer.”

Aeson’s brow furrows and he straightens in his chair. I hold up a hand before he can start freaking out.

“Do you have a healer you trust, one who’s been around longer than Jori or Zainab?” I ask, referencing the healer in Lorn’s Wing. “I need someone who’s familiar with a wide variety of issues that plague our kind.” I try to be nonchalant about what I’m asking, but of course it just makes Aeson freak out even more.