Page 66 of Ignite the Infernos

A small smile slides across Ever’s lips. “I know you,” she declares, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table like she’s trying to get a better look.

“I covered you at your Naming,” he supplies evenly.

“Did you get in trouble when I gave you the slip?” she presses, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“No, but mostly because you didn’t give me the slip.”

The smile drops from Ever’s face, and she cants her head. “Yes, I did; you were nowhere to be seen when I picked that lock and joined the party.”

“Nowhere to be seen is correct, Scioness, but we were there with you until you and the scion returned to your rookery.”

Ever’s head snaps to me, her cheeks blooming a bright red. “They were listening?” she demands, horrified.

“Of course not,” I assure her. “Protocol is to draw a shield around us for privacy, then retract it when it’s no longer needed.”

Ever tilts her head back and sighs at the ceiling. “Where’s a Scream Eater when you need one?” she murmurs, and a growl rumbles out of me. “Not for you, Spare, for me. I need to be swallowed whole at the moment,” she clarifies, but it’s not helping her case.

“I’d be happy to oblige. I ate your screams well enough last time, if you recall,” I offer, and she shoots me a fulminating glare. It doesn’t stop the flush crawling up her dragon mark, or hide the way her pupils expand with need. Fuck. At this rate, I’m going to be permanently hard. Thank the stars for scale armor blocking the bulge under my clothes.

Ever slashes a hand through the air and turns back to Julian, who’s wisely looking as though he didn’t hear or see anything that just happened.

“Fight him,” she orders, gesturing to Karis before she sits back in her seat.

Without needing to be told twice, Julian explodes into action, sprinting for Karis full speed. Everyone in the room tenses, because this is the first time any of the probies have heeded Ever’s order. Before they can make contact, Ever shouts, “Stop!” and just as fast as he started, Julian halts in his tracks and turns to her.

Ever nods once, the gesture radiating approval. “You can stay,” she declares, waving him over to stand off to the side.

“That was it?” I ask, my gaze bouncing between Ever and the first candidate to meet her approval.

“Yes,” she answers definitively. “I got the idea when I noticed some of the Flight Leaders puffing up in your presence like they were hoping to draw your attention.” She smiles wickedly. “I don’t want a Wing that’s looking to impress you. I want drakes who will honor my orders over everything else, including your rank, your reputation, and who you’re related to. Same applies to your Wing.”

I stare at her, unsure if I’m impressed or offended. The underlying accusation feels like claws digging through my chest, but she’s not wrong. She needs to be protected at all costs, and more than anyone, she deserves to finally feel . . . safe.

Candidate after candidate fails her test until there are no more names to call and only ten drakes stand off to the side. Ever calls them back to the center of the room and studies them silently for an uncomfortably long time. Just when I think the silence is another test, Ever does the last thing I expected when she changed into the workout shorts and top she requested. Ever rises from her chair, drops my cape, and shows the drakes the heartbreaking story written in scars across her skin.

Blay moves closer, his shield ready if she needs it, and Farrow hurries toward the controls that will open a wall to expel any enraged dragons if need be. I want to go to her, but I know she needs to do this, so instead, I hold my breath and I wait.

And wait.

And wait a little more.

I study the ten drakes vacillating between impressed and confounded. They’re not losing it. Which is good, for Ever’s sake. And yet, how are they not losing it? My own Wing couldn’t maintain this level of control when they first saw what was done to her—how are these ten strangers so composed?

I look to Karis and Ogdan, who’ve both flanked me, and bewilderment is written on both of their faces too.

“What’s going on?” I demand, abandoning my spot on the wall and striding angrily toward Ever until I draw even with her. Several of the drakes look like they’re barely hanging on, and yet they are, which only makes more alarm bells sound in my mind.

A male with violet eyes and ink-black hair steps forward. The black sun flaring wide across his neck combined with his violet scale armor identifies him as a Render, Healer class.

“Name?” I snap before he can speak.

“Pacey Halim, Commander,” he answers, a tic in his jaw and his purple eyes bright with fury. “I was part of the guard who protected the scioness at her Naming. I observed some things that had me concerned, so I did a little digging and came across the medical records from her recovery in Lairwood. It detailed the scarring and the charm worn to hide it,” he explains, his gaze flicking from mine to Ever’s.

“So you knew,” Ever states, and I can’t tell if she’s offended or impressed.

“We did, although seeing the extent of what was done to you is very different from reading it,” Pacey admits.

“It was the burn on my arm, wasn’t it?” Ever asks. “You healed it, and then I saw you go over to Julian and say something to him.”