Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Izzy pressed closer to the shutter and did her best to ignore the warm strength of Luka behind her.
His chest. His muscled arms, still gleaming with scales.
It took every ounce of her self-control to look him in the eye and turn away.
And she didn’t dare look back. If she turned, she would be between him and the door.
She would be able to reach him. Touch him. She would embarrass herself. Again.
He wants us.
No, he doesn’t.
Yes, he does, her beast rumbled, tail twitching. If I could take our skin, I could meet his beast, and we would solve this problem once and for all.
Years ago, that thought would have hurt. She’d been a child, desperately wanting something she couldn’t have. She’d watched her brother and their friends in the skies, wishing so fervently she could join them—join Luka, especially.
But over the last years, the grief about her drake had faded. Yes, she wished she could fly. Yes, she thought the dragons were magical and glorious and beautiful. But they were still people, in the end. With hopes and dreams, and sorrows and losses, just like everyone else.
Luka’s grief after Rayan’s death overwhelmed him. It’s why he pushed us away.
Izzy sighed softly. It was time to move past her hurt. Maybe they could be friends again one day. They just had to survive this first.
She pushed the shutter open a crack and listened carefully but didn’t hear anything. She glanced back at Luka to see if his sensitive hearing had caught anything. He shook his head slightly, and she risked opening the shutter a little more, and then all the way. Nothing moved.
The shutter swung open, revealing the soft glow of the multicolored glass panels set into the door. Everything stayed quiet.
Opening the door was fraught with danger, but they couldn’t stay on the balcony either. She gave the handle a gentle squeeze, and the door swung open. Clearly, whoever had shuttered the door believed themselves safe enough this high up not to bother with an additional bolt.
Izzy slipped into the beautifully appointed stateroom, Luka at her heels, and stepped silently onto the fine wool carpet.
A fire burned low in its grate, giving a dim, orange light that flickered over gleaming gold-threaded wall hangings depicting majestic dragons in flight over the mountains.
A large, four-poster bed dominated the space, with embroidered throws, silky pillows, and heavy curtains falling from the canopy all the way to the floor.
Polished stone jars and stoppered glass bottles covered a small dressing table between the bed and the balcony.
It was clearly the room of someone immensely privileged.
Luka stepped across the luxurious space to lay Narya gently on her bed.
Then he pulled off the woman’s boots and rested them on the shoe rack beside the wardrobe.
Meanwhile, Izzy tidied Narya’s skirts, tucked her hair from her face, and folded her arms over her chest. She almost looked as if she was sleeping.
Izzy pulled the curtains closed and stepped away from the bed with an ache in her heart.
She had dressed—and undressed—enough dead bodies in her time.
But this was one of the worst. Death was often sad, and sometimes horrific, but everything about this death felt wrong.
She swallowed, pushing down the tendrils of anxiety that tightened around her ribs.
“Are you okay?” Luka asked under his breath, watching her with concern in his gray eyes.
“She was so young,” Izzy whispered. “Beautiful and healthy and with the world ahead of her. I don’t understand it.”
And it’s too much like Rayan.
“And it’s so similar… I just….” Mother of the Weave. She didn’t even know what it was she wanted to say. Something about this was bringing everything back—Rayan, Luka, the Nabaspath. It all churned uneasily together.
“I wish he was here,” Luka murmured, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone.
“Me too.” She gave him a sad smile.
He lifted his hand, and she almost thought he would reach out to her, that he might finally touch her. But he froze, hand still in the air, head angled as if he were listening. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered urgently.
They moved together without speaking, flying across the room and out, into the darkness of the balcony. The door was still slightly open, but she didn’t dare close it and risk the noise echoing in the still room.
She glanced at the railing. Should they try to climb? How much noise would they make? How would they stay hidden without Luka’s beast to hide them? Inside the room, the inner door creaked open, and they froze.
A woman’s voice filtered through the crack, speaking in the soft, rhythmic accent of the Kwanam court.
“Brigadier General, sir, she isn’t there.
She went out earlier, and I haven’t seen her since then.
” The voice came a little closer, muttering far more quietly, “Bloody guards. This is ridiculous. I’ve been just outside all evening. ”
Luka went rigid. Was it the risk of discovery, or something more? Did he know these people?
“Open the bed and check,” a rough, male voice demanded, close enough to suggest he’d stepped into the room. “I want to know if she’s back.”
A ripple of scales spread over Izzy’s back and arms, covering her with armor. But the truth was, if she and Luka were caught now, nothing would save them. Something nudged her side, and then she felt Luka reaching for her hand. His fingers threaded through hers and held her steady.
“She’s here in her bed,” the woman murmured, surprise threading through her voice. And then, more firmly, “Get out! No guards in the lady-in-waiting’s rooms.”
“Wake her,” the deeper voice demanded. “This isn’t over just because she snuck back. She knows not to go running off when she’s supposed to be attending to Lady Kaliska!”
“It’s not my fault she wanted to go off with that physik,” the woman muttered under her breath—words clearly not meant for the Brigadier General and only just audible to Izzy with her ear pressed to the narrow gap in the shutter.
Then the woman raised her voice and called softly, “My lady? Are you awake?”
What physik? Had Izzy heard that correctly? No, she couldn’t have. Unless the Kwanam delegation brought healers with them?
Luka pressed her further into the shadowed corner of the balcony. He wrapped an arm around her, tucking her into his side, his skin completely covered in shimmering green and black scales.
She pressed her face into his neck, just for a moment. He was so warm and solid, holding her quietly in the dark. His free hand came up and cradled her cheek, and she closed her eyes. She could feel him and smell him. He was with her. And hopefully this was nearly over.
But then the woman’s tone changed sharply, her voice rising. “Lady Narya? Gods! My lady!” There was a long, terrifying pause. And then the woman screamed. “Guards!”
Before she even had time to think, Luka lifted her into his arms and leaped onto the banister.
Izzy threw her arms around his neck as a rush of heat and power roared through him.
Scorching waves battered her as she clung with both arms and legs.
His form shifted and grew in her embrace, and it took everything she had to hold on and survive the torrent.
Feet pounded in the room behind them, a woman screamed hysterically, and guards shouted orders, but Izzy’s sole focus was on clinging to Luka.
She scrabbled at his massive neck, trying to hold on, but his scales were hard and slippery.
He was too big to grip, and she started sliding down his front.
A great paw came up to pin her to his chest, and suddenly she was safe again.
And then he leaped. Not back down to the garden, but straight up into the air.
He flew faster and steeper than she ever imagined.
Up, toward the stars. Great wings beat against the air, pushing them quicker, further, higher.
The castle and everyone in it faded rapidly in the blast of air and speed, until even the great keep seemed like a tiny toy nestled far below, and the screams, whistles, and shouts of the guards were swallowed up by the roaring rush of the wind.