Page 80 of Ignite the Infernos

I turn to my Wing, who look equally heartsick and enraged. “Two of you need to bring Ever here. Her Wing can follow until the security check, and then we’ll take watch from there,” I instruct.

“Are you sure this won’t traumatize her more?” Ogden asks, his gray eyes hollow, like he’s aged years in a matter of minutes.

“No,” I confess. “But she deserves to know. Maybe she can offer some insight, maybe not, but I won’t keep this from her.”

Ogden nods solemnly and then motions to Karis and Blay.

“Don’t say a word about this, it’s not secure and we can’t risk compromising anything,” I order. “I’ll explain everything to her when she gets here. Just hurry and bring her to me.”

Chapter 35

Ever

WELL THIS MIGHT BE THE shittiest party I’ve ever been to. Not that I’m mad about that, just bored, and wondering why I still need to be here when so many others have left—or not shown up in the first place after what happened in the chamber.

It appears my scars are good for something at least.

Jesamyn Warrik moves across the room, like a lioness stalking prey. Her father, Duke Warrik, shoved her in the direction of Lorn not too long ago, and I’ve been watching her slowly close in since. Lorn has traversed the sparse crowd to acquire a beverage I requested, but have no intention of drinking. I simply needed him distracted, and from the look of things he’s about to have his hands full.

Unwittingly, Lorn walks right into Jesamyn’s web, and the dragoness descends on him like an eager little spider. She must take after her mother, because I don’t see a hint of her father in her pretty features. She’s the opposite of Lorn in every way, with pitch-black hair, dark eyes, and a delicate figure. Everything about her screams fragile, and I just can’t picture them together as mates.

Jesamyn says something to Lorn as she approaches, and he turns to her.

“That’s our cue,” I announce, and smooth as silk, Rysel takes the lead, Daelith and Luma each claim a side, and Bryndol moves in close behind me.

We move quickly, but not so fast that we draw attention. Our path has been scouted, and we edge around a few large groups, one of which is dancing—gross—and the other’s playing some kind of game I’ve never seen before.

No one seems to care what I’m doing, which is helpful. Those that came to get a peek, have gotten more than they bargained for. Duke Anjou, Duke Dowzer, and Duke Bleddyn have already left, and King Noctis was just pulled away by his second. With Lorn being accosted by the Warriks I might actually have a chance of getting the fuck out of here.

I know I shouldn’t make a run for it, but Aeson isn’t back yet from wherever he disappeared to, and while I’m not stupid enough to try and find him, I’m also done being tonight’s entertainment. Plus I have some business to attend to and there’s no time like the present.

Daelith murmurs into her com, relaying our movements to the rest of my contingent of guards who’ve stayed surprisingly hidden all evening. I breathe a sigh of relief when we finally exit the ballroom without incident, but I know we’re not out of the woods yet. Until we’re back in Aeson’s rookery, we could be stopped by Lorn’s Wing or the king’s at any point.

The dragon stone walls look gray in late evening light. The glass ceilings are covered in a light layer of snow and it makes the stark white keep look softer, and more homey. The ladies and I wind down a few hallways when suddenly Julian, Vesper, and Tharvok join us.

“Pacey, Lahar, and Akito are going to stick to the fringes as back up,” Julian relays, and I nod.

“Did you get it?” I ask Vesper, and he reaches across Luma to hand me the com band I requested.

“It’s clean,” he rumbles, and I pull in a fortifying breath and give my heart a moment to calm from our escape before I amp it back up with what I’m about to do next.

I look around me, taking in each of my guards. “This stays between us,” I order, and I don’t know if I’m bolstered or unsettled by how they all answer in sync.

Without second-guessing it, I type a number into the com, deactivate the cam feed, and then wait for the call to connect. It’s counterintuitive to be doing this in front of an audience, but it’s a killer loyalty test I decided was worth the risk.

“Queenie’s Beetle Kebabs, this is Stanley, what can I get for you today,” Gable answers on the third ring like some overworked service rep who just can’t be bothered to fake it a second longer.

I bite back a smile and ignore the way my chest gets tight at hearing the familiar voice. “Hi, Stanley, I need an order for five, and I’m gonna need a rush delivery,” I chirp, injecting a little extra pep in every syllable.

“And how would you like those cooked?” Gable monotones back.

“First, I’d like you to spark the flames, then if you could ignite the infernos, that would be super, and last—and this is important, Stanley—you’ll have to ash the embers or I don’t want it.”

Gable gives up the ruse and barks out a loud laugh. Then the sounds of wrestling fill the line before there’s a yelp of pain and suddenly Enslee’s voice rings out.

“Ever?” she asks, and the relief I feel is overwhelming. It crashes through me, joining forces with deep rooted longing to see that she’s safe, that she’s okay.

“I don’t have long,” I tell her and then laugh, because I’m pretty sure I’ve said that on every call we’ve ever had, and maybe, just maybe after this one, I’ll never have to say it again.