Chapter 12 Nox
Nox
Islammed my fists on my desk. “We were this close,” I snarled.
My fingers shifted into talons and scratched against the wood.
“Why were they there so early?” I whirled around to face the others, then motioned to Tessa.
“This new contact of yours must be a rat. Scarven knew someone was going to be there.”
The four of them looked as dejected as I felt.
We’d gotten away mostly unscathed. When Everett was cornered, his illusion over Tessa and me fell, and Scarven’s men converged.
Tessa and I took out a couple before she was able to shift into a smaller cat form and get away to help Everett, and Arowyn magicked herself to my side.
Then we met Tessa, Kieran, and Everett in the village square.
Everett had a few scratches, and Tessa broke her wrist, but she’d healed by the time we met up. No lasting injuries. No identities compromised. Overall, it wasn’t a loss.
But we still had no clue what Scarven wanted from that shipment.
My hands curled into balls at my sides. It was infuriating, not being able to use my power.
Knowing he had managed to stifle the largest part of me and bend it to his will.
If I gave away who I was among his men, he’d know I betrayed him.
A dragon wouldn’t exactly blend in. But I wasn’t the one who would pay the price.
The hold Scarven had over my sister’s life threatened me every single day.
When I saw my people in need, I wanted to lash out. I wanted to do everything in my power to save them. Yet I was constantly reminded of what I had to lose, how I had to play it smart and protect the only advantage we had.
It felt like walking on eggshells, waiting for the moment when it all came crashing down.
Arowyn crossed her arms and cocked her head at me, her long, near-white hair piled at the top of her head in a bun. “I keep telling you to let me go at it alone. You’re being an idiot.”
Tessa snorted, and I shot her a look. “You’re not wrong,” she said to Arowyn. “But read the room.”
Arowyn was completely unfazed. Bored, even, as she always looked.
She simply shrugged. “Nothing to read. We failed, again, and Nox is pissed, again. I have a simple solution: let me go next time. I’ll be in and out in under a minute.
No need for all these illusions”—she waved a hand at Everett—“and testosterone.” Her light blue eyes pierced mine.
My nose twitched as I held her stare. She was right. I knew she was right. But for all of my jokes and masks, my desire for control was immovable. If anyone was going to put their safety on the line, it would be me. Not the ones I cared about.
I sighed, struggling to release my frustration. “Arowyn, look—”
The door to the workshop burst open. A breathless Milo careened inside, nearly losing his balance as he cried, “I’m sorry, Nox! It’s all my fault.”
My second steadied him. Kieran’s annoyingly perfect hair was intact as always, barely a hint of dirt on his cloak as he raised an eyebrow. “Calm down, Milo,” he said in his smooth baritone. “Take a breath. What happened?”
Milo held a hand to his chest and inhaled, the color slowly returning to his cheeks. “I—I let her out.”
A weight sank in my stomach. “Let who out, Milo?”
He licked his lips. “The Shadow Wielder. I dropped the wards. Just…just for a few hours.”
In the corner of the workshop with his cabinets of herbs and potions, Silas the elderly Alchemist cursed. He swiftly crossed the room and grabbed Milo by the ear, yanking him forward. “I leave you alone for ten minutes…”
His words became muffled beneath Milo’s whines.
The two of them had a close, if not easily irritable relationship, and spent most of their time together.
They’d even begun to dress similarly in the two years since the older Alchemist had taken Milo as his apprentice.
Tweed pants, suspenders over a white button-down, the occasional vest or sweater.
While Milo’s messy blond curls constantly covered part of his eyes, Silas’s brown hair was groomed close to his tawny scalp, gray creeping onto the sides.
He adjusted his glasses with one hand while keeping the other firmly on Milo’s ear. “What did you do, boy?” Silas asked, his normally quiet, patient tone now heavy with disappointment.
Milo’s brow furrowed. “Is—isn’t that why the mission failed? Because she messed it up?” He glanced around the workshop. “Wait, where’d she go?”
My hackles rose, my spine straightening as I realized what he was saying. I took a step across the workshop to him, then another, my teeth grinding in an effort not to bite the boy’s head off.
“You let her out of the Keep?” My voice was lethally quiet. If she was the one who got Everett caught—
“Down, boy,” a voice said from the tapestry hanging on the wall. The scent of sunshine and pomegranates wafted toward me. My head snapped to face her, red hair tucked into the hood of a cloak, full lips tilted in a smirk. “He was just doing me a favor.”
A growl rumbled up my throat as I stalked toward Devora. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t send you to the capital and let Clarissa lock you in a cell.”
Her eyes sparked, and my blood heated. Instead of cowering, she held out a hand, the tips of her fingers grazing my chest. Something green and leafy rested in the center of her palm.
She hummed as she stared me down. “I’m guessing you don’t want this, then?”