Chapter 20 #2
“Hey,” Aziza protested—just another squawk amid the litany of them.
“It’s true,” Night said.
“Still.”
The blats performed several looping circles of the room, diving to attack only the nobles, never us, and then only their poofed hair and wigs.
When they finally retreated to the high, vaulted ceiling, the party was left panting, their hands clutching their chests—and their weapons too if they’d managed to hold on to them.
“Dramatic much?” Aziza muttered quietly. “They’re supposed to be tougher than this. They don’t even need to breathe, for dragon’s sake. Every one of them is a s?nglure.”
And as such, they would be able to hear her despite the reserved volume. But none ceased their theatrical gasping fits. I hoped they weren’t in competition with each other to see who could create the greatest fuss.
A petite woman stuffed into a too-cinched bustier pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and swooned back into a chaise.
Indigo-Trufy-Pantsuit abandoned his own distress to skip to her aid.
Aziza rolled her eyes. Ed frowned in disapproval.
Anticipating the next attack, lords and ladies darted pinched looks up to the ceiling and back.
“Why don’t you just go somewhere else?” I asked them.
Sky-Blue was the only one looking at me already, seeming to be admiring my veil.
He tsked. “This damnable fortress won’t let us leave!
Every time we try, the doorways loop on themselves.
We exit but enter immediately back through the same opening.
It’s maddening.” He faced Baz. “With you here now, my warrior prince, we are saved. Will you lead us to safety?”
As one, the attention of the room shifted to him. There was no such thing as safety within Mauldrene’s walls, and probably not on this entire blasted island. Even if there was, Baz could access it no more than any of the rest of us.
Even so, he said, “You may count on me, Drake Milliand. I’ll do whatever must be done to protect you.”
Drake Milliand gave him a wheedling smile that made me despise his smarm.
When he dragged a leer along Baz’s body, I grew to hate the man.
When he ogled Baz’s chest and arms, and then went on to examine the bulge bowing his leather pants, I snarled—as if I were a dragon, and my treasure was being threatened.
I was, of course, no dragon, and Alobaz Hawxley, warrior prince of the Domdurron Empire, was not mine.
Baz alone was smiling, his attention on me instead of on the lecherous prick who couldn’t be bothered to hide his uninvited appreciation.
Miiiinnnne, the monster inside me growled, loudly enough that I feared others would hear.
I shook my head to clear the thought, then studiously observed the ceiling. The shadows overhead swirled lazily, as they often did. There was no indication a horde of blats concealed themselves behind them.
“You tell us she is a diplomat hailed from Orania, my warrior prince,” said the asshole drake. “Will you share her title with us, so we may know how to properly address her?”
“I’ll show you how to ‘properly address’ me,” I muttered while taking a step toward him.
Baz gave the rope that linked us a gentle tug, holding me back.
“She is the long-lost princess of…” My heart stammered. What is he doing? “…the Masau Family.”
My heart thudded to a halt. What?
Drake Milliand glanced at the others, who watched the exchange, the blats forgotten. When none nodded in recognition, he cleared his throat.
“You will forgive me, my warrior prince, but I’ve not heard of such a family.”
“Do not fret. Your ignorance is understandable. Her family is small yet mighty, secreted away in the Sparkling Ice Cliffs of Orania.”
Trufy-Man whistled. “The Sparkling Ice Cliffs?”
“Indeed, Visdrake Bosko.”
“How very interesting.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll pardon me, my warrior prince,” the visdrake next said, “but why is she veiled?”
“Her beauty is such that anyone who lays eyes upon her is at risk of dying instantly.”
“Just humans? Fae? Or even s?nglures?” Drake Milliand asked.
“S?nglures especially.”
“But … we cannot die like that.”
Baz smiled. To someone who didn’t know him, it appeared relaxed, convivial even. To someone who knew him as well as I did, it was clearly a threat.
“Try her and find out for yourself. There is no guarantee you’ll die, it may just hurt a lot, but as your prince, I was obligated to warn you.”
“The Drady Vee is greatly honored in her land. She is sworn not to speak unless it’s to ask informational questions.”
I choked on my spittle. If Baz thought he was going to collar me, bind me, and shut me up, he didn’t know me at all.
Through my fake veil, in a sweet voice I’d perhaps never used before, I said, “Thank you, Alobaz.” The drake and visdrake inhaled sharply, but was it for failing to ask an “informational question,” or because I’d addressed their precious prince by his familiar name? “I make exceptions at my discretion.”
I speak only when it suits me. Ha, take that, Bazzy Baz!
Then, to move things along, because I still needed to get Baz alone to ask him about the ghost who looked so much like my mother, in an imperious tone that demanded obedience, I asked of the nobles, “Where is the empress?”
Their faces blanched behind garish, colorful accents before the lady’s maid nervously scratched her bosom and curtsied.
“If you’ll follow me, honored Drady, I will lead you to request an audience with her. But, ah, watch your step. It’s slick in her quarters.”
“And why is it slick?”
“Better that you see for yourself, Drady. My warrior prince, if you’ll also follow me, your mother has been asking for you.”
“We can’t get out, remember?” Drake Milliand said. “How could you have forgotten? You must have the brain of a small bird.”
“Like dragonfire we can’t leave,” Baz growled, stomping to the doors, which had closed behind us without a sound. Thanks to the rope, I followed.
Both hands on the handles, he tugged.