Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Lord Athdara.” Neere gives him a sickly-sweet smile. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming to the ball.”
“And miss out on all the fun?” he asks, voice dry. “Never.”
“What about her?” Neere clucks her tongue and gestures at me as if I’m something she found stuck to her shoe. “Why are you being kind to her?”
“I’m her escort,” he says simply. “Hadn’t you guessed?”
“I should have,” she mutters, frowning, “but she had no token?—”
“Though it’s none of your business,” he growls—honest to the gods growls —“I brought the token with me. So take your friends and make yourself scarce.”
“I don’t answer to you,” she scoffs, but her face loses some color.
“Yes, you do.” The shadows rise, curling around both of us. “I’m the King’s Sword, and even if you weren’t in the Royal Guard, I’d still command you. I wasn’t asking, Neere. Get lost.”
I don’t take a real breath until the three fae have left, huffing and glaring back at us.
Then I step away from Jai, needing to put some distance between us. What I really need to do is lose myself in the crowd and disappear, but I can’t help but meet his gaze.
And that’s a mistake.
My breath stops.
Gods, he’s beautiful. How is he even human? His black hair is shiny, falling on his forehead, a dark, precious crown, and his smile is bright, a faint dimple on his cheek.
How dare he have a dimple? It’s not fair. The boy I used to love had one, too, and it slays me.
In a simple black tunic and pants, a wide leather belt slung over his narrow hips, and tall black boots on his feet, he looks more royal than the king had yesterday in his crown and long robes.
Black moths flutter around him, then settle on his shoulders in rows like buttons, faintly glowing.
I’m so lost in contemplation, I start when he lifts a hand to my bleeding neck, almost but not quite touching.
“Dammit, Rae. Did Neere do this to you?” I find his gaze on me, flaring with fury. “I’m going to go kill her right the fuck now to make sure she never fucking touches you again. Hells, I’ll bring you her head. You can use it to decorate your room.”
I almost laugh, but it warms me up, his anger on my behalf, his declaration of war on her.
I barely manage to grab his corded forearm as he starts past me, going after her. No. I shake my head. Don’t.
“Rae… Damn.” He turns to face me, reaching up to touch the small wound again. His gaze collides with mine. His rough fingertips brush over my neck, and heat rushes through my veins. I hadn’t realized I’d been so cold until now. Is that why I can barely feel the cold? Because I’m frozen inside?
I put my hand over his, intending to pull his fingers away from my neck, only he laces our fingers together and tugs me closer.
“They dress up in silk and in velvet,” he whispers, “wear their hats and jewelry, wield their small magic, but they’ll never be as beautiful as you. They work on grace, aware of every part of their body and face in whatever they do, keeping every movement balanced, rounded, and controlled. They work on strength. And you… you make that grace and strength seem thin and meaningless because you move like water, without thought, without control, yet smooth and perfect.”
I frown up at him.
“I’ve thought about it,” he says, voice calm but his eyes in turmoil, “wondered about it, wondered whether this is why… why you remind me of her?”
Her? I wait, but he seems to have abruptly run out of words. His gaze is steady on me, though, even if a vein is beating hard at his jaw, betraying him.
He’s standing there like a young god, born of the dark, his eyes darker than the night, his cheekbones inky mazes, his shadows twining around him like storm snakes.
And around us, the crowd has compressed as if drawn to him, putting us inside a circle.
Watching as he lifts our hands and brushes his lips over my skin, a touch of fire.
“No matter,” he breathes, “forget what I said. I’m just confounded. My lady, allow me to present my token.”
Lifting his head, he lifts a hand, the other still holding mine, and sparks jump in the black of his eyes. The black lines on his cheekbones seem to writhe.
And the whistling of leather wings fills the air.
The fae and human crowds shift. Cries, shouts of awe and delight ring out as a darakin spirals down toward us.
A familiar white-and-gray darakin, lacy wings fluttering, the veins in them glinting. Its crest-less head is dog-like with a long snout set on a serpentine neck. The wicked claws on its four legs are the hue of iron, and it uses them to grip Jai’s shoulder and arm as it lands.
“I found him for you,” Jai says as the darakin sways, gathering its wings and rattling its teeth.
That’s an odd choice of words.
“He chose you from the start,” he continues. “He wanted me to introduce you.”
My brows have hit my hairline. He did?
“He says his name is Remi.”
Remi? I blink. Then suddenly my eyes fill with tears, and I can’t figure out why, why…?
“Want to pet him?” Oblivious, Jai turns his star-spangled, dark gaze on me. “Come here.”
Pet him? Is he serious?
The darakin opens his mouth and hisses, and it’s a feat not to stumble away. He may not be a drak, but he’s as large as a hound, and that’s with his wings tucked in.
Not to mention that mouth, full of serrated teeth.
Yet I manage to hold my ground, and faced with Jai’s bright, happy smile—damn, when have I ever seen him looking so happy before?—I grit my teeth and reach for the darakin.
Remi…
If Remi bites my hand clean off, that’s on Jai. I hope he knows it.
The darakin watches me with brilliant blue eyes. It’s the only real color on him, and they look far too intelligent for a flying lizard.
Everyone knows that draks are pretty stupid, but this little creature is watching me as if he’s about to speak.
But he can’t.
That makes two of us.
My hand shakes a little as I reach for the white snout. Small black scales run along the mouth and up to the… ears? I never thought dragons had visible ears, but this one does.
“Don’t pet his nose,” Jai instructs. “Scratch his neck, below the chin. Or where the neck meets the body.”
Oh. Changing trajectory—it seems losing my hand was on the table, and no joking—I gingerly touch the gray scales under the darakin’s chin, my breath caught somewhere in my throat. His snout opens slowly as I pet his neck, and his head turns one way, then the other.
The scales are warm, I realize, once the rising panic has abated a little. And though you could never call them soft, they are so small there that it almost feels like skin. Textured skin, but skin all the same.
A low rattle has my hairs standing up on edge, and I realize it’s coming from the darakin. His forked tongue slips out, a dark blue to match his eyes.
Just like a dog , I think and almost laugh out loud to myself. Yeah, right. My mind is just latching on every similarity it can find to a familiar, likable animal. An animal that won’t take a bite out of me, or drag me over the wall and into the sea.
“He’s a worthy ally,” Jai says. “The daras and the darakins are related. Both are true-hearted, faithful, and fearsome.”
Not sure I see how one can compare darakins with the enormous dragons who live in the sky, rumored to never touch the earth.
The darakin produces that rattle again— he , I remind myself, Remi is a he —and it sounds almost like a cat’s purr. Is it an indication he enjoys the way I’m scratching his chin?
Remi shifts his claws on Jai’s arm, and I wonder if they will pierce the fabric and draw blood.
That reminds me of how I found my hands covered in dried blood this morning.
“Now,” Jai says, “would you let him perch on you?”
I balk and draw my hand back. He’s joking, right? The creature must weigh at least seventy pounds. It will crush me.
“They are lighter than they seem,” Jai says. “They have to be, in order to fly. Their bones are fluted, hollow.”
That makes sense. Still, it doesn’t make the prospect any less frightening.
“She won’t do it,” someone whispers, and I’m surprised to find that the fae nobles, as well as some humans, have closed in around us, watching this new, unscheduled show. “She’s going to back out.”
The darakin observes me with a beady eye. Clouds reflect in it. I think I see the sea. He makes a croaking sound, shifting again on Jai’s arm.
Jai says nothing. His dark gaze is calm. He doesn’t prod me, or tease me, or repeat his question. His challenge.
And somehow, I know he won’t think I’m weak if I refuse to do it. He’s not a bully. Something tells me he’s never been one.
“You make that grace and strength seem thin and meaningless because you move like water.”
Among gasps and hushed whispers, I lift my chin and extend my arm. It’s just a darakin, I tell myself. Jai spoke with him. His name is Remi, and he wants to meet me. He won’t harm me.
You won’t harm me, will you?
I chant this new mantra inside my head as the darakin spreads his wings—white and gray, leather but also gem-like with threads like metal and stamps of what looks like eyes and stars at their centers—and rises into the air…
… then flutters back down, landing on my arm, one claw digging into my shoulder, the other on my forearm.
Oof. Heavy. I sag under the weight. Jai was right, Remi isn’t as heavy as I’d thought, but he’s no tiny sparrow, either.
“Gods, Rae,” Jai whispers, eyes shining, “you’re beautiful.”
Am I? With my white hair loose and tangled around my face, my gray-white gown filthy where I was dragged over the floor, and a small dragon perched on my arm, I’m certainly not the image of the delicate princess.
Not that I care.
Then Remi belches a small cloud of black smoke. I keep myself still, wondering if darakins breathe fire. I’ve never seen one do it.
Even Jai’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth as if to say something.
But nothing comes out. In fact… his lips peel back, and a tremor goes through him. His eyes close.
When they open again, they look flat and cruel, gold flashing in their depths. His head bows and he mutters in a different voice, “Feeling proud, are we, little human? In your pretty gown, with the pretty dragonet on your shoulder, the pretty dragon speaker by your side? Feeling like you’re worthy of your mission, even though you failed before you even began?”
Shit. This time, I do take a step back, just to put enough space between us, so that I can think. What just happened?
Jai wouldn’t say that to me, so… this is Phaethon.
Or is it?
I still wonder how that is possible and how I’m supposed to tell Jai and Phaethon apart. What are the clues, apart from the nastiness?
Between one blink and the next, though, he closes the distance between us, looming over me.
The darakin hisses. The ache from his weight and the painful grip of his claws marking my flesh through the silk are a welcome distraction, grounding me.
Pain. Nothing can ground you in the here and now like pain.
“ Tenebra ,” he whispers. “ Iskios. Pasianax. Mainomenos. ”
What is he talking about? What do those strange words mean?
“Ah, the little human is lost. Aren’t you, girl?” He tips his head back, his smirk sharp like broken glass. “Pretending to be someone else, locked inside a spell that only a fated bond can break.”
What?
His smirk fades; his jaw clenches. “And as for him, he thinks he knows enough, but he’s hard as a mirror of cast metal, a weapon, volatile and unstable. Dangerous and wild. He’s breaking apart?—”
“Athdara!” someone shouts. I think it’s Tru. I can’t look away from Jai to check if I’m right.
“And then she comes, full of those same shadows.” Jai’s voice has dropped to a sonorous whisper, deeper than it normally sounds. “Not bright like the Eosphors. They are the only dragon speakers, masters of howling, crawling across the vault of the skies?—”
“Athdara!” Tru calls out again, and I realize he’s fighting his way through the crowd to reach us. “Stop.”
“Oh, yes, she’s scared, isn’t she? Didn’t I say so? Didn’t I warn you? Everyone is scared, everyone—” Jai slams a hand on his thigh and bows over, groaning. “Enough! Fuck.”
He’s done that before, hasn’t he? This abrupt halt and groan, this tortured cursing.
I take another step back as he grimaces and draws a sharp breath. He lets it out slowly.
Then he turns and staggers away, shoving people aside, leaving me standing there with the wind blowing in my hair and the darakin sitting on my shoulder like a gargoyle.
I stare after him, and out of nowhere, it hits me why I felt like crying upon hearing the darakin’s name.
Remi. It reminds me of my brother’s first name, Remian.
Just my luck that this preening darakin has his beloved name, and that life won’t let me forget that sorrow…