“The Council spoke of the devil, so I appeared. I
Everything about him, from his posture to his words, was laced with sarcasm. He radiated an impression of complete disregard. He was a man who didn’t care about a thing, not even dying. As with any Dragon King intent on blending into the world at large, he wore inconspicuous clothing—a pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt layered with a black sweater. The casual, almost sloppy disregard for fashion was meant to detract from, not accentuate, the classically handsome features of their people. His hands were in his pockets, as if interrupting the Council’s twice-yearly meeting was as common as going to a cinema.
Shock and curiosity layered in the Council meeting room like smoke twining with clouds. Despite having brought the man to the fortress, Mal held no respect for the Heretic. The man’s list of crimes was nauseating. “Tell us, then. How did you come by Nynn’s letter?”
“You’re near to the general idea of it,” Tallis said. “Which is impressive for a Council. Well done.”
Mal gritted his teeth. In the midst of fighting ten recalcitrant senators and the slow-wash tide of extinction, this bastard was testing the last of his patience.
“Yes, there exists a collection of rebels who refuse clan associations. They found the letter. Reed of Tigony wasn’t a kilometer from the Asters’ complex when he froze to death. They’d known its general vicinity.” He chuckled softly. “Only when your cousin blew the roof off the lab did they know for sure. Reed escaped in the aftermath.”
“You dare laugh about this?”
“Save it, Giva. You need them to hear what I have to say. I was willing to deliver that letter when none of the rebels could. Anonymity is their great asset. My asset is to become anonymous when I will it.”
“There are other rumors.” Mal stepped forward. He lifted his chin and prepared to kill a fellow Dragon King upon Tallis’s next answer—not there in the Fortress of the Chasm, but wherever the deed needed to be done. “There are rumors you killed Nynn’s husband, then handed her and her son to the Asters.”
Tallis stared at Mal, emphasizing their impasse. Under the flippancy was a flicker of something deeper. Flash and gone. “Funny things, rumors.”
“But you
Tallis nodded.
“Tell me why we shouldn’t keep you here and force you to stand trial? Or, more fittingly, return you to the Pendray who despise you?”
Pendray Youth practically growled his agreement with that idea.
“They do hold grudges, my beloved clan.” He shrugged. “But you, Giva, would rather believe me in hopes of saving Nynn.”
Mal felt as if he held the weight of his people in his hands. The entirety of his race depended on his next decisions. Luckily, his great weakness was an overabundance of tenacity, not a lack of resolve.
“Nynn and her son are in pain,” he said. “For now, for me, that is enough. With all due respect, senators, I’m adjourning this meeting. None of us are leaving until we reach a consensus. Take action against the cartels? Ignore them and hope Nynn’s fate is a single event? Follow this man’s lead? We owe our respective clans the answers they’ll surely demand.”
The crackling energy in his blood could stay. It was the purest part of him, giving him strength from inside out, providing a reminder to remain stronger than his gift.
“Take the night,” he said, his words spoken with deep confidence. “Take days if need be. Find it in yourselves to put away this petty bickering and lead our people. It’s your Dragon-damned duty and I expect nothing less than your full cooperation.”
He turned to the Heretic. With a flick of his wrist, Mal signaled the guards to take him into custody. “As for you,” Mal said, “I will listen to what you have to say. I may even accompany you to a stronghold—the Asters’ or otherwise. But first you will answer every question I have about my cousin.”
SIX
Audrey was exhausted—body, mind, soul. But she couldn’t sleep.
She lay on the rugged ground and stared at irregular shadows distorting the depth of her cell. Training room, he’d called it. Sleeping quarters. She knew better. Bars and keys meant imprisonment. A breath of free air had not been hers in more than a year. Each one she drew was tainted with acidic pain. Helplessness should’ve become part of her after such demoralizing captivity.
It
She’d nearly given up in the labs. Another few months, maybe weeks, and she would’ve done anything to end her life. And Jack’s.
Every morning, she’d wondered if murder-suicide would be better than another day of torture. She was scarred, inside and out, but she could place blame where it belonged. A child, though . . . Jack wasn’t even six. He would never outgrow this cruelty.
In the end, Audrey’s survival instinct had been too strong. Over and over, she’d decided to give them one more day. One more chance. She hadn’t been able to abandon hope. She’d cursed it almost as often as she clung to it—almost as strongly as she’d clung to her little boy.
She was swathed in darkness once again, yet she wasn’t holding Jack. No slight warmth. No soft breathing when he finally drifted toward dream. Not that his dreams were without trauma. Even there he was not free. His nightmares broke her heart.
She’d rather have a broken heart than empty arms.
Her back ached. Regret and uncertainty were parasites digging into her mind. She was to become a Cage warrior. The decision whether to release Jack from that misery was no longer hers. Instead, she would free him and rebuild their lives. She had the power to make it so.
She no longer needed to wonder why she’d been plucked from one hell and deposited into another. New questions sprouted.
Every part of her body hurt. Her scalp burned where Leto had dragged her across the floor. Her arm creaked where he’d yanked it behind her back. Her gut cramped where he’d kicked her. The energy beneath her skin stung with pain close to pleasure. At least this pain had purpose.
Audrey curled into herself like an infant in a bassinet. Only by remembering long-ago Tigony techniques for calming her restless mind did she finally feel the warm blanket of sleep.
For a moment.
A key rattling at the end of the sloping corridor roused her with a start. Noise meant danger. She was on her feet in an instant. Cold made her clumsy. She wobbled, focusing beyond shadow after charcoal shadow. Yet her muscles responded with surprising grace. The aches had eased. She buzzed with the need to move.
“Awake so early?”
She flinched away from the sudden spark of the two bare lightbulbs. But even that disoriented sense returned more quickly. Had releasing her powers done something? Maybe it was nothing more than shedding the sluggish hopelessness of Dr. Aster’s lab, but she doubted it. She wished she could remember or understand. Then she might feel more satisfaction, and banish the queasy, lingering dread. She didn’t have time for unknowns.
Leto stood half a dozen feet away. He wore similar armor, but this set was free of damage. His right shoulder was covered by alternating layers of metal and leathers of different thickness and texture. The other shoulder was bare. Striated muscles flexed and shifted with every small movement. Biceps, forearms—even his hands. He was the most impressive man she’d ever seen. Something out of an impossible fantasy. Darkness and intensity. Vigor and power. A pulse of purpose surged in constant waves from his magnificent body, potent enough to feel against her skin.
