Page 76 of Ignite the Infernos

His features soften infinitesimally, and his hand lifts, only to drop, like he was about to touch me but decided against it. “We coordinate to show that we’re a united front. It’s something my mother always insisted on when we were younger, and we honor her wishes to this day,” he explains, a ripple of grief moving through him before he locks it away.

Warmth blooms in my chest, and I’m taken aback for a second time in as many minutes by Aeson’s words and consideration. I can easily picture him messaging his father and brother the color choice for the day, and it isn’t lost on me that they could have easily assigned something that worked for them, but instead they let me choose and then adjusted accordingly. It’s a gift I didn’t know I needed, and one I’ll treasure.

Emotion overwhelms me when I meet King Noctis’s gaze and take in the tenderness and understanding radiating there. He gives me a nod as though to say, “See, I told you, you’re family now.” I blink my feelings back, and with a choppy inhale and a tightening throat, I return his nod.

“Is he being an asshole?” Lorn inquires, tipping his head in Aeson’s direction and studying the emotion in my eyes. He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he’s engulfing me in a hug that’s both awkward and steadying.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I grunt as Lorn squeezes me tightly.

His smile is wide when he pulls back, his attention dropping to my dragon mark. “Fair point,” Lorn agrees. “But is he being an asshole for you or against you, because there is a difference.”

I smile, and it increases the wattage of Lorn’s beaming grin.

“You look breathtaking, and I see you’ve come armed,” he teases, motioning to my scars. His words and tone are playful, but I notice an edge of something beneath it all.

“Stop pawing my mate,” Aeson growls from behind me, and suddenly two strong hands band around my waist and pull me back into a warm, familiar chest.

My initial instinct is to push Aeson away, like he deserves, and shore up my defenses against him, but he just feels so fucking good. It’s annoying as fuck and makes all of this so much harder to sort through. I want him. I’m starting to feel like I need him, and yet our realities are so far apart. I don’t know how to merge them, or how to keep it all from blowing up in my face if I try.

With a sigh, I shove all of that aside and focus on getting through tonight. We can deal with the rest tomorrow. Far too easily, I relax into Aeson’s touch. A sigh of relief gusts past my temple, like he needed this recalibration as much as I did. I look back at him over my shoulder, but Aeson’s scion mask is still firmly in place. For reasons I’ll examine tomorrow, I reach up and pull him down to me for a brief but poignant kiss.

“Vincent, will you ensure the roof to the chamber is open before we enter?” King Noctis directs to one of his Wing members, and the male with copper hair and matching eyes nods and then disappears around a corner. “Ever, did Aeson already go over what to expect?”

I turn away from Aeson and nod at his father. “Yes, I’ve been given the itinerary. Meet the Conclave, tolerate their spawn for a few hours, then . . . freedom,” I deadpan.

King Noctis bites back a smile, and I can’t help but scowl. I understand he’s a masterful tactician, that there’s always a method to his madness—I just wish I knew what it was in this case. It seems off that he’s allowing the dukes to push Aeson around like this, to disrespect our bond with this ridiculous stunt. I suppose we could be bait to flush out traitors, or this whole thing could be a ploy to make Aeson and me come together by fighting a common enemy. Then again, things could be exactly how they look: King Noctis conceding to the pressure of his nobles to help maintain peace and balance.

The doors to the chamber open, and with a tight smile, Aeson’s father turns and disappears into the waiting maw of the room beyond. Lorn leans toward me, and Aeson’s arm around my waist tightens infinitesimally.

“You lied to me about there being other Syphons,” Lorn declares, his tone the perfect balance of accusation and flippant ease. “We’re going to talk about that when this is over. It’s time they came home.”

My stomach does a few somersaults as he turns to follow his father into the chamber. My thoughts whirl as I watch him go. I’ve already come to the same conclusion, for no other reason than Enslee and the others need access to a Source, and this is the safest option. It kills half a dozen birds with one stone, and the only downside is it might dismantle everything I’ve built here just as easily.

Aeson was right about the dark sky and the bright star, but he was wrong about which one I truly am.

Aeson offers me his hand. I look down at it, and I can’t discern whether it’s a lifeline or one of those metal-toothed traps that clamp down on a limb and refuse to let it go the minute you step on a lever.

Do I even care anymore?

I take his hand, threading my much shorter fingers between his, and let him guide me into the chamber to meet the Conclave once and for all.

The first thing that strikes me is how cold the room is, but when I look up and see the roof open like King Noctis instructed, it explains why. The dukes and surrounding counts all stand, and there’s a long, ornate gold table sitting in the middle of the long, ornate room. I look up and find rows of tiered benches above, lined with unfamiliar faces and far too many greedy eyes. I’m halfway to the gilt table when the first roar rips through the room and, just like I planned, all hell breaks loose.

Another enraged roar fills the chamber, followed by dozens more. All at once everyone is shouting and scrambling as the loud flap of dragon wings whooshes through the air. Dragons fight to reveal and take flight, and I gain a new appreciation for the massive scale of the keeps and all the rooms within, because this is what they’re built to accommodate.

Aeson presses my back into a corner and covers me with his body. I can barely hear him over the snarls and roars, but I think he’s yelling at me about scale armor. The second I realize what he’s saying, a bright orange dragon releases a stream of ash at another dragon. The cinders overtake the chamber, frolicking with the fat snowflakes spilling in from the open roof. A silken gray speck lands on Aeson’s shoulder, and the sight of it unmercifully rips me out of the chaos of the chamber and brutally shoves me back to my father’s rookery sixty-two years ago.

A keening wail overcomes my senses and my heart tries to bury itself deeper into my chest to get away from the sound. Enslee presses her face deeper into my lap while silently clawing at her ears as though it will keep her from hearing the screams anymore. I suffocate my own sounds of devastation and horror with a hand pressed painfully hard against my mouth.

A voice calls my name.

A voice that doesn’t belong here.

A voice that’s safe.

I cling to Aeson’s gentle coaxes, climbing each syllable to escape the gulch of my past. I surface with rapid breaths and wide, terror-filled eyes. My hands have a death grip on Aeson’s shirt, and his imploring gaze is level with mine.

“I’m going!” I croak, knowing the telltale signs all too well. This short reprieve from the horror is just that. The past isn’t done with me yet—it may never be.