Chapter 34 Skylar
After checking that Kaida got safely back with Bastet, Skylar heads for the welcome area once again.
In ordinary circumstances she’d have a third moonflower drink, but she can feel it spiking her system in a way that probably can’t be good.
She takes a sparkling wine instead as she moves through the crowd freely.
With Kaida gone, there is nothing to identify her—it’s not like she is known widely.
Sure, people are gossiping about the long-lost heir, but most will only have heard rumors as to what she looks like.
She passes a man selling dragon figures and can’t help slowing.
He clocks her instantly. “We have one to represent every dynasty, if I can tempt you? Perhaps one of the Lunar Celestials, to match your dress, or we have carved some of the legendary Mjolnir?” He raises a little Mjolnir for her to inspect—it’s pretty good, though it could never capture the pure power that radiates from him.
“No thanks. I have a little dragon all of my own.” She winks and turns away, scanning the crowd.
She doesn’t know who, exactly, to target.
The barons are notably absent but still, she can’t just march on up to each and every noble and courtier here and ask what they know about the camps, can she?
Although, maybe after another wine, that’s exactly what she’ll end up doing.
She spots Axel, standing by the doorway of bark and ivy, representing the fabled Earth dragon. He is in a gold mask, and his tunic is cut close to the lines of his hard, toned body.
Like he can sense her watching, his gaze finds hers, before dropping down the length of her black dress to her bare legs. When his eyes meet hers again, a shiver passes over her skin. A shiver she knows she shouldn’t feel, given who he is and what he’s done.
The step he takes toward her is stilted, and she wonders if he can sense it, this conflict within her.
“Axel.” The queen’s usually lyrical voice is harsh, and both Axel and Skylar turn to look at her.
Skylar wonders if he, too, hadn’t noticed her arrival.
Her dress is forest green, tight along the length of her torso, then swooping down in elegant skirts that swish as she walks.
Below her mate mark, her mask is green to match, complementing her black hair, which is pinned up—with a small jeweled crown sitting on top.
Clearly, she didn’t get the note about anonymity.
“I wonder if I could borrow you for a moment. I have need of your expertise.”
Axel sketches a bow. “Of course, My Queen.” Skylar wonders what “expertise” she needs—is there a rebel here, at the ball?
Axel walks to the queen’s side, glancing at Skylar one more time, before he turns his back on her. Probably for the best. She’s not sure that moonflower and Axel would be the best combination right now—and besides, she doesn’t want to be distracted.
It’s only then that she notices the soldier—a red band on his arm marking him out as part of the Blooded segment of the army. Her heart stutters. The army is here?
He’s talking to Zryan, so all she can see is the back of his head, hair cropped to his scalp. But this is it. This is who she needs to talk to. She starts toward them. She’ll distract Zryan—tell him Astrid is looking for him or something—and—
But her path is blocked by Simone.
She’s wearing a feline mask, true to her Shifter form, and a bodysuit that clings to her curves. Skylar does her best impression of a casual smirk. “Not now, kitty cat. I’ve got people I want to chat to.”
Simone places her hand over her heart. “People you want to chat to more than me? I’ll be crying for the rest of the night.”
Skylar snorts, looking over Simone’s head. The soldier is still there. “Well, we can catch up when you’re standing outside my room later, can’t we?”
“Nah—didn’t you hear? I’ve been relieved of guard duty. Apparently they think you can look after yourself.”
Skylar takes another sip of wine. “I don’t think it was ever about protecting me.”
Simone gives her a look out of those almost-yellow eyes. “No. But I suppose times have changed, haven’t they?”
“Well, it’s nice to see you and all that, but if you could just—” Skylar makes to step around Simone, but is blocked again. Skylar narrows her eyes.
Simone grins. “Thought you said it was nice to see me?”
“And me?” Zryan appears at Simone’s side.
Skylar looks up into her brother’s face—no mask, because of course he’s decided not to play by the rules, but she likes the wings. “I’m reserving judgment.”
“Of course you are.”
She takes a breath. If she doesn’t say it now, she never will. “Look, Zryan. About…”
“You nearly killing me?”
She grimaces. “Yes. About that.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Skylar snorts incredulously, and her drink sloshes in its glass. “Seriously? Don’t worry about nearly killing you?”
“I think I might check out of this one.” Simone winks at Skylar before moving away.
“Well,” Zryan says, “I mean, maybe don’t make a habit of it, but you don’t need to apologize.
We were trying to get you to use your power—and you did.
” She wonders if that was all it was, him going after her like that, but decides to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Besides, when Mjolnir first bonded with me, it was like I’d only just come into my power.
I’d try to Teleport a foot and end up a mile away.
With Kaida, things are bound to be a bit… unsettled… for a while.”
Well, that might explain the not-so-welcome emotions that are churning within her this evening. His gaze travels over her head, looking for someone—and she thinks she knows who. And it’s probably the drink talking, but why not? Why fucking not—if not tonight, then when?
“No hard feelings, okay?” he says, and she nods—because it’s not like she likes apologizing. “Anyway, I’ve got to…” He gestures vaguely into the crowd.
“ ’Course you do.” She smirks. He moves past her. “Have fun!” she calls to his back. He ignores that.
She turns, locating the soldier weaving through the crowd, and follows him toward the iron door, shrouded in darkness. There is a group of three soldiers already there—a mix of red and blue bands on their arms. Meaning both the Blooded and Bloodless sections are here.
“What did the prince want, Luc?” a woman—Bloodless—asks.
“Just seeing how everything is at the camps, really,” Luc says. Skylar’s heart beats in anticipation as she moves closer to them, unnoticed in the crowd.
“Luc has a bit of a thing for the prince,” a man with huge arms says dryly.
“Which one?” asks the woman.
Luc rolls his eyes, as if the answer to this is obvious. Zeb, apparently, is not the legend Zryan was in the army. “You’d have a thing for him, too, if you’d seen what the guy can do. The stories don’t do him justice, trust me.”
The big-armed man scoffs. He’s Blooded, too, Skylar notes.
But so what?
She steps all the way up to them, and their gazes flick toward her, no longer able to dismiss her among the partygoers.
She sees the way one of the men and the woman appraise her, their eyes traveling quickly over the length of her bare legs, up to the fire mask that she knows, from looking in the mirror, makes her look fierce.
Luc—Zryan’s superfan—folds his arms. “Yes? Can we help you?”
Her mouth feels dry. There are four soldiers, right in front of her. This is better than she could have hoped for—better than a drunken courtier to try to manipulate. And yet suddenly she has no clue what to say. Not all the army were conscripted. Some chose this life—the Bloodless in particular.
Big Arms scoffs—scathing is apparently his thing. “Don’t tell me you’re an army groupie? Not interested, love.”
The woman cocks her head. Light blue studs glitter in her ears, matching her mask. “Speak for yourself,” she says slyly.
Luc jerks his head. “Come on. We’re here to enjoy the party,” he says to Skylar. “Not on duty, I’m afraid.”
The woman shoots him a look that suggests that’s not entirely accurate, and the fourth of the group—a tall man in a battered gray mask—looks at Luc with something akin to hatred.
So, not a cozy group of friends, then. But as Luc tries to lead them all away from her, she reaches out, grabs his shoulder.
She can feel power coming from him, though nothing like what she felt from Zryan.
Still, a sickening excitement curdles in her gut.
He glares at her hand and she removes it, not sure she trusts herself if she keeps hold. “I’m looking for a friend.”
The blue-masked woman smiles at her. “I can help with that.” She’s cocky, for a Bloodless.
Skylar smirks back, though her insides feel sticky, like she can’t fuck this up and already knows she’s going to. “Maybe another time.”
Are you here, Cam?
No answer.
“A friend of mine joined the army recently.”
Luc is watching her carefully, while Big Arms flexes his fingers. The man in the gray mask’s expression seems to flicker.
“Lots of people have joined up recently,” Big Arms says, and Skylar wonders if she’s imagining his careful tone. If he is using the word “joined,” like her, to mean something else entirely.
“His name is Cam,” she continues as evenly as she can.
“Never heard of him,” Luc says, and the way he looks at her, Skylar knows he’s taken against her.
“He’s a Projector.” Despite trying to stay calm, a bite creeps into her voice. “He was…” She swallows. “He would have arrived around five weeks ago.” She glances at the woman, who seems the most inclined to share.
“Sorry, sweets,” the woman says with a smile. “I’m Bloodless, we’re kept separate for the most part.”
“Look, there’s a lot of people in the army now, okay?” Luc says. “We don’t know everyone by name, and I don’t know any Projectors.” He sneers the word, like the power is beneath him, and the magic in her own veins flickers dangerously.