Dragon crowned, p.6
Dragon Crowned, page 6
part #3 of The Dragon of 23rd Street Series
What had I been thinking? How had I ever believed I could make this work?
And what did all this mean in light of that old dragon’s insistence that bronze dragons were “peace-bringers”? Ever since I’d learned about my bronze scales, I’d brought nothing but battle and conflict to those I loved most.
“Stop it,” Faris growled.
I glanced over at him. “Stop what?”
“Stop lashing yourself with all the reasons that this is your fault and nobody would have gotten hurt if you weren’t there.”
“Well…”
“Everyone is fine. Broken glass is easy to fix. And nobody wishes you hadn’t come home.”
“How do you know?” I asked, and in my voice, I could hear the same scared little girl who had wondered what would happen if her aunt was truly gone for good. I hadn’t been that girl for months now. I didn’t really want to be her again. But how could I ensure my friends’ safety in a world where I was valuable enough to kill for?
Faris stared straight ahead for a few moments. “Kira, do you really think none of us have enemies?” he asked finally.
I thought about it.
“I don’t know,” I admitted frankly. “I’ve wondered a few times why you have so many ‘people,’ but it seemed too personal to ask questions.”
“Trust me,” he said dryly, “none of my ‘people’ are strangers to being hunted.”
“But I bet you don’t have four bounties on your head,” I muttered, despite being more than a little curious about his statement. Who exactly were his people? And how had he ended up collecting so many friends and employees with a significant number of enemies?
“That’s because it’s more than anyone’s life is worth to attempt to kill me,” Faris said patiently. I didn’t think he was bragging, either. “It’s one thing for them to temporarily trap me in my office with a binding spell, but there isn’t a mercenary crew out there who wants to take me on. And by now, they should know that you’re under my protection. At least half the crews who thought to try for your bounty are currently running for the other side of the globe.”
“That’s why you let Shane go,” I guessed. “You knew he’d spread the word. How well do you know him?”
Faris scowled a little as he turned onto Classen to head south, towards home.
“Shane Isaacson is intelligent, solitary, and unpredictable. He’s half-goblin, but his dad was fae, though Shane isn’t known to have much in the way of magic. Truth is, he doesn’t seem to need it—he’s just that good. He’s also fairly honorable, for a bounty hunter.”
“So he’s not as bad as the rest of them, but I still shouldn’t trust him?”
“You shouldn’t trust anyone,” Faris said bluntly.
“Then how are we supposed to get information? I’m not willing to torture anyone to get them to talk, but we need to know how they were using fae magic when none of them were fae!”
“Let me worry about that part.”
He was protecting me again, and while I was grateful, I couldn’t imagine sitting back and pretending this had nothing to do with me.
I sank further down into my seat and stuck my hands in the pocket of my hoodie, beyond exhausted and wishing my life could be even the tiniest bit less complicated. Wishing I had someone to share my worries with.
If only Draven…
It dawned on me suddenly that my pocket wasn’t as empty as it should be. I never kept anything important in my hoodie, because it could so easily fall out. But somehow, between me taking my clothes off to shift and putting them back on a short time later, a small, rectangular piece of cardstock had found its way into the pocket.
Faris didn’t say anything for the rest of our drive, and neither did I. For some reason, I didn’t want him to know someone had taken advantage of the chaos to deliver something that may or may not be sinister in nature.
So I waited until we got back to his apartment. I could tell he was just as exhausted—and probably just as frustrated—as I was, because once he assured me that his place was completely secure, he disappeared, leaving me standing in the kitchen with a glass of water and what felt like an adrenaline hangover.
As soon as I heard his door close, I pulled the card out of my pocket and surveyed it curiously.
The mystery object proved to be a single rectangle of matte black cardstock, bearing the initials S. I. The other side had only a phone number.
I was actually a little surprised. I wouldn’t have expected magical bounty hunters to use business cards, but it wasn’t like I’d formed that opinion out of an abundance of experience.
The bigger question was, why would a bounty hunter—and one who’d admitted to considering taking on my contract—give me his phone number?
And did I want to give him the satisfaction of asking?
FIVE
After showering and feeding Chicken, I did eventually fall asleep, but my dreams were restless. I woke up feeling as though I’d been beaten up by Weldon again—bruised in mind and body.
When I finally pulled together enough motivation to get out of bed, I meandered downstairs to find Faris in the kitchen, frying something that smelled delicious while talking on the phone in a tone of voice that boded ill for whoever was on the other end.
I padded closer and peered into the frying pan, where sausage, potatoes, onions, peppers, and mushrooms were sizzling happily together.
Faris cocked a threatening eyebrow and waved his spatula in my direction, so I wandered off and started looking for a pantry.
After I’d poked around for a few minutes, Faris set down his phone and eyed me curiously. “Are you checking out my brand of dishware or looking for something specific?”
“Tea,” I mumbled, offering him my best, sad-eyed stare. “A fixture of every civilized kitchen. Tell me you have some.”
His expression relaxed, and he chuckled as though I’d amused him.
“Not sure what gave you the idea that I’m civilized.”
“You live in a practically new penthouse apartment with voice-controlled security and automated window coverings. Also, I’m pretty sure you oil your beard.”
He shot me a dirty look. “Have you always been a smartass, or were those dragons an even worse influence than I thought?”
“Sorry.” I grinned, though it was a little forced. Bad influence or not, I missed my brothers. “Pretty sure I’ve been a smartass since birth.”
“There’s tea up there.” He indicated a cupboard with a stab of the knife he was using to mince cilantro.
I opened the cupboard and found…
Holy moly. There must have been sixty different kinds of tea. And not the generic boxed stuff either. There were tins and hand-labeled paper bags, most of them types of tea I’d never heard of before.
And none of them looked as though they’d been opened.
“Faris…”
“I knew you liked tea, but not what kind.” He didn’t look at me.
“But you didn’t even know whether I’d be coming back.”
He shrugged. “I figured you’d be back someday. You love that store too much to leave it.”
I walked over and pulled myself up to sit on the counter next to his cutting board.
“I didn’t just come back for the store,” I said, hoping I wasn’t about to cry again.
“And we aren’t going to let you run away just because some psychopaths are after you,” was his blunt answer.
My chin dropped to my chest. “How is Seamus this morning?”
“Cranky,” Faris admitted, scooping the minced leaves into the frying pan. “But mostly because he was unconscious for the fun part.”
Fun. I rolled my eyes and dropped back to the floor to go find a mug. Once I had water heating in the electric kettle, I turned back to Faris with my hands on my hips.
“So, what’s the plan for today?”
His innocent expression was about as convincing as the average two-year-old’s.
“You’re not leaving me here all day to ‘keep me safe,’” I informed him sternly.
“No, that I’m not.” He pulled two plates out of a cupboard. “I’d prefer not to let you out of my sight, but that would probably prove irritating and embarrassing for both of us.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “I won’t argue with that.”
“So we’re going to head back to the club to start dealing with the cleanup. Once the crews have their instruction, we need to pick up that gargoyle to get him out of the way of the workers, and then Seamus or I will take you anywhere you want to go.”
Anywhere?
“Tomorrow, I have a meeting with the contractor working on your store—to go over the final list and get a date for you to move back in. But other than that, I’m free to help you with…” He left the rest of the words unsaid.
“I’m not sure I even know where to start,” I admitted. “Except when I talked to Draven last night, he asked about a group called the Shadow Court. Said he thought they might have a lead on Morghaine’s whereabouts.”
“I doubt it,” Faris said, though his tone was a little too nonchalant.
“Then you know about them?”
“I’m aware of most things that go on in the Idrian community.”
A bit of a non-answer, which meant there was something he didn’t want to tell me.
“And what exactly do you know about this particular thing?”
“I know that Morghaine—or rather, Morgan—isn’t likely to mess with them.”
“Why not?”
Faris was silent while he piled the two plates with hash, cut thick slices of some kind of artisan bread, and placed it all at the breakfast bar.
I added two mugs of tea—smirking at Faris’ querulous expression—and took a seat.
“Too dangerous,” was his eventual brief answer.
“How so?” I wasn’t letting him go that easily.
“Too much chance of eventually running into some who knew the real Morghaine. To keep up a charade like that, she’ll have to stick to places where no one knew her before. And now that the secret is out…” Something in his expression grew hard and dangerous. “She’ll be lucky if she can show herself anywhere wearing that face.”
Well, that was going to be a problem for me.
“Then we can’t let the secret get out,” I told him. “If she changes her disguise, how will I ever find her?”
“You won’t.” He shrugged. “No one’s going to find a green dragon who doesn’t want to be found. She’ll have to want something badly enough to come out of hiding for it.”
I took a bite of my breakfast and almost groaned with happiness. “Faris, this is fabulous!”
“It’s just man-food.” I could see his cheeks go red beneath his beard. “I’m not a completely terrible cook, as long as I throw everything in one skillet.”
“No complaints here.” I took another bite, then a long swallow of my tea, and suddenly the morning was looking a bit brighter.
“So”—I changed the subject back to Morgan—“you’re saying we’re going to have to trap her.”
He didn’t contradict me, but I could see the idea worried him.
“You probably knew her even better than I did,” I told him, ignoring the pain that accompanied that admission. “What might she be willing to come back for?”
“We aren’t using you as bait,” Faris growled.
I wasn’t discounting that option too quickly, but I also knew better than to argue with Faris about something that could jeopardize my safety.
“Well, what can we use as bait?”
He looked my way, his green eyes strangely vulnerable. “Me,” he said.
“No.”
There was no way in all the fires of Hades that I was going to allow him to put himself through that kind of pain. He’d loved her, or at least, he’d loved the woman she was pretending to be. I would never ask him to reopen the wounds left by her betrayal. Not for my sake.
“We’re not using you either, Faris. Not like that.”
His eyes dropped, and he stared at his plate. When he spoke, his voice was rough with barely concealed anger. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I might need to confront Morgan as badly as you do?”
I flinched, even though I knew he wasn’t really angry at me. But I was angry with myself, because it hadn’t occurred to me. I’d assumed he would be upset. I’d wondered if he could be trusted not to kill her before I had a chance to ask my questions. But I should have known that he would have questions too. Questions he deserved answers to. We needed to find her before Draven did, for more than just my sake.
“I’m sorry,” I said slowly. “I didn’t think you would ever want to see her again. Let alone talk to her. But I’ve never been where you are, so I shouldn’t have assumed.”
He grunted. “No one should know what betrayal feels like. And you’re right, I’m angry enough at her lies to bury her beneath the nearest volcano. But… I also need to know whether any of it was real.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
Faris reached out and briefly gripped my hand where it rested on the counter beside my plate.
“Let me at least try,” he said gruffly. “I think I can convince Morgan to talk to me. And if not, we’ll be no worse off than we were before.”
That might not actually be true. “What if she isn’t interested in talking? What if she really just wants to… to destroy the evidence?”
That might be all I was to her—evidence of her treachery. But I wouldn’t know unless she was willing to talk.
“I’m not helpless,” Faris said flatly. “She’ll talk.”
I hoped he was right.
“But then what?” I couldn’t help asking. “Draven has to provide proof of her death before ten days are up. I don’t know if I… if we…”
I’d been hiding from this question for the past forty-eight hours. Could I really let him kill her? It would essentially be an execution. By any estimation, if even half of what we suspected was true, she deserved it. She’d sold the real Morghaine into a living hell, then taken her place to raise me for slaughter. She’d betrayed her own kind, then conspired with the fae prince, Llyr, to betray his father.
And I didn’t even know her real name.
But she’d been a huge part of my life, and I wasn’t sure I had it in me to watch her die. And yet, if we couldn’t stand back and allow her execution, it meant condemning Rath, the current heir to the fae throne, to die at his own mother’s hands.
“What if we could find Rath, too?” I blurted out. “Before the deadline?”
Faris’ eyebrows flew up. “What are you going to do, storm the fae enclave and ask where he’s hiding?”
“You really think Elayara stashed her own son at the fae enclave?” I countered. “She can’t want the Fae Court to find out what she’s up to. Dathair must have some supporters remaining, and I can’t imagine the entire court shrugging and turning a blind eye to her killing her own son so she can be queen.”
“Even if that’s true—and I don’t know that I would agree—where would you propose we start looking?”
Ugh. I had no ideas. I was a nineteen-year-old shapeshifter who was barely managing to stay alive. Fae politics were a bit over my head.
“Maybe in Idria?” I suggested.
He looked doubtful. “It’s possible, given that things seem to have stabilized some over the past fifty years. But hardly safe. She would have to genuinely not care what happened to him in order to risk it.”
I wouldn’t be willing to bet on Elayara caring about anyone besides herself.
Faris put his fork down and swiveled to face me. “Look, I’ll promise to see what I can find out, without letting on that we’re looking. But you have to swear you won’t go and do anything crazy without talking to me first.”
I scrunched up my nose thoughtfully. “What counts as crazy?”
“If you have to pause long enough to justify doing it without telling me, it’s crazy, and you should tell me.”
A grin pulled at the corner of my lips. It was like he knew me or something.
“Okay,” I agreed. “That seems fair. As long as it goes both ways.”
He scowled at his plate but gave an unwilling nod.
And for the first time since Draven left me in Clanhaven, I felt the tiniest surge of hope. I wasn’t alone in this. Maybe we had a chance after all.
Chicken seemed to have disappeared again, so after leaving out some food, I rode with Faris to The Portal and joined the rest of his staff in setting the place to rights. I swept up a ton of broken glass, helped sort through the furniture to figure out what was broken, and tried to look innocent when I found Seamus staring at the remains of the barstool I’d incinerated.
As expected, the wolf shifter was a bit cranky and seemed to be avoiding everyone, but he did pull me aside partway through the afternoon.
“Faris told me what happened,” he said abruptly. “You shouldn’t have tried to save me. They weren’t after me. You should have run out the back door and kept yourself safe.”
“Seamus, they couldn’t hurt me,” I reassured him. “Not once I shifted. But they probably could’ve if they’d hit me with the dart, so I owe you for saving me from that. Afterward, I was afraid if I left, they would take you or someone else as a hostage.”
He frowned at me as if I’d said something terribly insulting.
“I know you can take care of yourself,” I hastened to assure him. “But you were kind of unconscious at the time. It seemed a little rude to just leave you alone in the dark with a couple of bounty hunters.”
He growled a little under his breath, but gave a jerky nod. “Thanks. You still should have run, but… I owe you.”
I reached up and smacked him across the back of his shaggy head. Nicely.
“Friends don’t ‘owe’ each other for not leaving them to die,” I said, starting to feel a little cranky myself.
“Yeah, but Kira…” He swallowed and looked at the floor. “If anything happened to you… Well, Faris will be impossible to live with, so, just help us out and try not to get hurt, okay?”
“Yeah, I’d miss you too,” I said, and he finally relented and hugged me.
