A hush fell over the room. Altair knew he had spoken out of line, that the dragons weren’t even invited to the meeting. To then assume that they would be allowed to join the team, to fight this demon lord, that was taking things to another level.
Circe was trapped, he knew. Altair had volunteered in front of hundreds of witches. If she was to turn him down now, it would not only be rude, but also indicative of a lack of trust in the dragons. A trust that Circe herself had begun championing as necessary if the two groups were to get along. She couldn’t very well go back on her word now.
Which meant Altair knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted. A place on the team, and a chance to ensure nobody else died who did not have to.
“That is a most generous offer,” Circe said slowly. “I had not expected such assistance, but with the power that Lord Berith represents, I find myself hard pressed to say no.”
Altair stayed standing, knowing that he was being rebuked for speaking up, even while his offer was being accepted. Circe was not happy, and he didn’t bother looking to his side, knowing that Rokh and the other leaders would also be furious with him.
“You are welcomed as a representative of the dragons...” Circe trailed off, her tone making it clear what she wanted.
“Altair, of the storm dragons,” he said.
“Thank you, Altair. Your assistance is most welcomed and appreciated.” Circe dipped her head in his direction to acknowledge him, before returning to the rest of the auditorium.
“If you wish to volunteer for the response team, please speak to Master Pinton, who will be overseeing its creation and training, to begin immediately. In the meantime, please do not be alarmed. Within the walls of Winterspell, you are safe. It is the humans that must worry, and that we must be ready to protect.”
With our lives, if we must, Altair added, knowing Circe was thinking the same.
“What are you doing?” a voice hissed at him from down the aisle.
Altair slowly turned his head. Rokh was glaring at him, his eyes practically aflame with red. The fire dragon was the leader of the dragons, true, but he wasn’t going to stop Altair. Not this time.
“I have made my decision,” he said calmly.
Rokh trembled with barely restrained fury.
There was nothing the fire dragon could do now though. Everyone in the auditorium knew that Altair was to be the dragon representative on the response team. If Rokh tried to pull Altair out, others would wonder why—and if whoever was assigned in his place was as dedicated to the cause.
No dragon was as dedicated as Altair. None of them needed salvation like he did. A way to erase the mistakes they had made.
If a death was what it took to stop this demon before he could hurt others, then Altair was going to ensure it was his.
Chapter Three
Christine
THERE WAS A MOMENTARY pause as Circe closed out the meeting, as if nobody was quite sure what to do or what to say. Heads turned left and right, and a handful of people stood but for the most part, the entire auditorium was silent, unmoving.
As if a pre-agreed time limit had expired, everyone started talking at once, turning the silent room into a madhouse of activity, mild panic and shocked reactions.
Christine was up and moving almost instantly, making a beeline for the doors. Her attention wasn’t on Circe, or the witches talking about what had just been said, or their memories of studying Lord Berith from history class. Her mind was elsewhere.
“Excuse me,” she said, sliding sideways as best her thick figure would allow to fit between two groups of her peers. “Pardon me.”
The groups moved aside, giving her a curious expression but quickly returning their focus to the hushed talks of the momentous announcement. Everyone, it seemed, had something to say. Christine ignored it, knowing that such topics were gossip fodder for most of the witches, who would have little to nothing to do with the situation.
Reaching the edge of the auditorium, she pivoted and went up the steps as fast as she could, eager to catch her quarry before they left. Just why she felt the urgent need to speak to them was beyond her, but she knew she needed to. To understand their decision.
“Which one of you volunteered to join the response team?” she asked, coming to a halt in front of the dragons, hands on her waist, looking at the thirty-plus adult dragons milling around, seeming unsure what to do.
There were looks between them, some of which weren’t overly happy. One of them stepped forward.
“He’s left already.”
Christine blinked. “He left?”
“Yes. Out the doors.”
Again feeling the need to track him down and speak to him, Christine followed the pointed hand and went out after him. Why would he have left so soon? Was the dragon regretting his decision, perhaps?
The hallways were mostly empty. Nearly every witch was in the auditorium or up on the walls. Only a few had left, and so it was easy for her to spot the dragon shifter.
“Hey!” she called, hurrying to catch up. “Wait.”
At her second shout, he looked back over his shoulder, giving Christine her first good look at him. The rear of the auditorium was dimmed, and all she’d been able to make out at first were his broad shoulders and muscular frame, but all the dragons seemed to possess such appealing physical traits.
Now as she approached, she saw his bright blue eyes framed by a pair of thin eyebrows and a mouth that looked like it had forgotten how to smile.
“May I help you?” he asked. The words were polite, but the emotions didn’t extend up to his eyes.
Christine slowed,
