Chapter 9
Rook
I was going to have to kill the local wolf pack, I decided as I pushed what I think was supposed to have been soup around my bowl.
The mere fact I could push it was alarming enough, even before considering the taste.
Soup was not designed to be viscous. I was absolutely certain charred shifter had to taste better than this, and I wasn’t entirely sure the shifter wasn’t doing it on purpose, in some sort of attempt to erode my will to live.
Murder by attrition seemed like the girl’s style.
She has a name, you know.
I did know. And I had no intention of using it. Getting close to the staff did not end well. My dragon’s anger raked against my mind, and I pushed the bowl away with a grunt.
“Would you like me to bring the main course?” the girl asked.
“No.”
A look of hurt flashed across her face before she ducked her head, and I bit back a sigh. Wolf shifters and their emotions. Seemed like she was constantly furious or on the verge of tears. Often both, somehow.
She’s trying. It’s only been two days.
“I have work to do,” I told her. “You can eat the rest of your meal in the kitchen.” I paused. “Or here, if you prefer.”
I wasn’t sure why I tacked that last part on, and I pushed my chair back before I could second guess my intentions.
It made no difference to me where she ate, so long as she did.
I didn’t need to lose her to starvation—though debatably, that was less dangerous than actually eating the food she produced.
If I didn’t think she’d try climbing down the cliff the moment she was unsupervised, or get herself lost in the woods beyond, I’d have shifted and gone hunting.
I’d never met a creature with so little sense of self-preservation.
I stalked into my study and shut the door behind me, eyeing the phone on my desk as I sunk into the chair behind it.
I hadn’t, strictly speaking, been lying to Kaylee when I’d told her I had work to do.
I couldn’t avoid Gaheris’s call forever.
I was isolated here—the exact way I liked it—but that meant sometimes changes in the greater world passed me by.
I wasn’t opposed to that, either, but sometimes those changes impacted me, my lands, or my finances, and I had a vested interest in protecting all three.
I plucked up the phone and jabbed at the keypad, drumming my fingers impatiently on the desk’s surface as it rang.
“Rook,” the too-smooth voice traveled down the line. “I was starting to get the feeling you were avoiding me.”
“That’s not a feeling, Gaheris,” I grunted. “What do you want?”
“There’s trouble in the east.”
“There’s always trouble in the east.”
“Yes, well this time I think it’s spreading.”
“You think? You called me up to say you think it’s spreading?”
“This isn’t just idle gossip, Rook. The Borderlands—”
A distant crash sounded from the dining hall and I pulled the phone away from my ear, listening. A moment later, I heard the sound of someone cleaning up broken plates. I shook my head. Clumsy shifter.
“Rook, are you listening?” Gaheris squawked down the line.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m listening. Rebel plots and rogue dragons. Must be Tuesday.”
“You can try to brush this off all you want, Rook. I’m calling you because we go back a long way. Uther has his tail in a twist about this. He’s moving against anyone he thinks is harboring rebels, and you haven’t exactly been quiet in your criticism of him.”
“Not been quiet?” I frowned at the phone. “I haven’t spoken to anyone other than you in thirty years. How much more quiet can I be?”
“You know what I mean, Rook. I’m warning you as a friend. You can’t stay impartial forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose a side, and it might be a whole lot sooner than you’re expecting.”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
I dropped the phone back in its cradle and massaged my temples.
Gaheris might be a paranoid, ass-kissing little shit, but his intel was usually good.
Good enough that he was one of the few people I tolerated coming into my home.
Ideally not more than once every few decades, though.
Still, it was as close as I came to trusting any of my kind.
If he was worked up about this, then it likely wasn’t without merit.
Which was the last thing I needed. Especially if… Shit.
I picked up the phone and mashed the buttons. He answered almost at once.
“I don’t hear from you in a decade, and then you call twice in one day. It must be love, Rook.”
“I’d love to kick your ass, Gaheris.”
“You mispronounced ‘kiss’.”
“Funny,” I said dryly. Everyone’s a fucking comedian. “You said there was noise in the east. Human or shifter?”
“Shifter. Wolf shifters again. That’s why I called. Everyone knows your stance toward the wolves is benevolent.”
“Everyone doesn’t know shit. Lack of interest is not the same as benevolent. I don’t look after them, I just don’t waste my time policing them.”
“From the outside it looks like the same thing.”
“Just because I’m not taking pleasure in tormenting a lesser species does not mean I’m supporting some kind of rebel uprising. I claim my damned Tribute, what more does Uther want?”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” I paused and looked toward the door, but there was no sound of anyone creeping around in the hallway beyond. “I just picked up a new one two days ago, in fact.”
“And how much blood have you spilt breaking her in?”
“None,” I spat. “I’m not a fucking barbarian.”
“You’ve branded her? Tattooed her?”
“We both know the answer to that.”
“Yeah, and so does everyone else.” He blew out a breath like I was trying his patience, which was rich. “Look, your shifters run around unmarked, ungoverned, and I’m willing to bet they even have access to technology.”
“Some,” I grudgingly admitted.
“And you can’t imagine, for one minute, how that might look like benevolence?”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Handle your shit, Rook. Or have someone handle it for you. But get it done before Uther decides you’ve gone native. I’d hate to lose you just when you’re warming up to me.”
“Asshole.”
“Look.” He hesitated. “There is one— Forget it. Bad idea.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
He blew out an irritated breath, which was usually my line. Probably meant he was serious about whatever shit idea was about to fall out of his mouth.
“I’m going to regret this. Uther’s due at the Dragon Border Alliance summit, but my informants tell me he’s…otherwise engaged.”
“Tormenting whatever unfortunate he’s laid his claws on, you mean?”
“I mean,” he said carefully, “that he needs someone to go in his stead. Someone with enough of a reputation that the other faction leaders won’t execute him for having the gall to speak in their presence.”
“And that’s of interest to me, why?”
“Are you really this socially inept, or are you just doing it to fuck with me?” Gaheris demanded.
“If you want to prove your loyalty, there are worse ways than volunteering to be his mouthpiece. Go to the meeting. Keep the peace. Listen to the other faction leaders waxing lyrical about the wonderful new world they’ve built. ”
Every part of that sounded like my idea of hell. “Me? At the Dreary Bastards Association?”
“I’m regretting suggesting it already.”
“You’re right. That’s a shit idea.”
“Yeah. Let me know when you have a better one.”
“Fuck.”
I hung up the phone again, and drummed my fingers on the desk, mulling over my options. I didn’t want to go to war with Uther, not if I could avoid it. Might be preferable to going to a fucking summit, though.
We could defeat him in single combat.
Sure. Because he definitely would choose single combat over his army of loyal followers.
It would be dishonorable to send someone in his stead.
And that surprises you because?
I shook my head. Fact was, Uther hadn’t gotten where he was by playing nice or worrying about his honor. And I didn’t think he’d hesitate to send a dozen dragons my way if he felt the need.
But I wasn’t about to go tearing the pack apart just to prove a point. For food, maybe. But not to prove a point.
I got to my feet with a sigh and rolled out my shoulders. Things moved slowly in the dragon world. I had time. And right now I had a new Tribute who’d probably sliced herself to pieces breaking my decent china. I’d best go check she hadn’t managed to bleed out. She seemed the sort.
The dining room was empty when I reached it, and I scented the air, but couldn’t detect any freshly spilled blood. Mind, the lingering scent of that ‘soup’ could mask pretty much anything, up to and including a napalm attack. Better to be sure.
My dragon stirred smugly in my mind.
And you can cut that out, I snapped at him. Hell if I want to have to find yet another new Tribute because I broke this one. That’s all there is to it.
If you say so.
I do, you overgrown lizard. Go count your scales or something.
I blocked out his response as I slipped back into the corridor and followed it along to the kitchen.
I assumed she would come this way, and the lingering scent of the leftover ‘soup’ confirmed it.
At least there was no trail of blood – perhaps she wasn’t quite as accident prone as she seemed.
Maybe she’d just decided to take her temper out on my plates.
My hands warmed at the thought. If she had smashed my possessions deliberately, in some juvenile attempt to gain retribution for my refusal to eat her offerings, then I’d teach her a thing or two about punishments.
And about her place in this household. I would not be disrespected by a servant.
She needs time to adjust, my dragon rumbled.
She’s had time.
She’s had two days. Even for her kind, that is not long.
Since when are you such a paragon of sympathy? I demanded irritably as I stalked toward the kitchen. You’re obsessed with the girl.
Ah, yes. I’m the one who’s obsessed.
Shut up. The girl pays for her mistakes, and that’s final.
The kitchen door was open when I reached it, but the sound that reached my ears stopped me stalking through.
I’d expected her to be crying, or maybe sulking—or trying to climb out of the window.
But Kaylee was stalking around the kitchen, scrubbing dishes and worktops sporadically, and she sounded pissed.
“Stupid dragon,” she muttered as she tossed a pan in the sink.
I made a note to show her how the dishwasher worked if she ever stopped behaving like a brat.
Sometimes I missed the days before dragons had revealed themselves, when the lesser species had access to technology and thought this world was theirs…
and knew how to work the most basic of kitchen appliances.
I supposed I should be grateful she knew what a hob was—even if she clearly didn’t know how to use one.
“Stupid arrogant kidnapper,” she continued,” too good to eat my soup just because it tastes like shit.”
She snorted in irritation as she picked up a scrubbing brush and attacked the soup pan. “I have work to do,” she huffed in a poor imitation of me. “Work, my ass. I’m the only one round here who has to do any work. Stupid Landon making stupid deals.”
I grinned at her tirade. I didn’t have the heart to point out that the deal had been made long before Landon was born, and that her pack wouldn’t still exist if it hadn’t been made.
Besides, it was much too entertaining listening to her berate everyone and thing that had ever existed as she stalked around the kitchen.
She growled adorably as she scrubbed at the pan, up on her toes as she attempted to use her weight against the burned metal, and then she flung the scrubbing brush down and hauled the pan from the sink. I canted my head, watching as she hoisted it towards the window.
“It’s not like Mr. High-and-Mighty can’t afford another pan,” she chirped, seeming inordinately pleased with herself.
My brows knitted in confusion at her sudden change of demeanor, and then shot up as, beaming widely, she shoved the pan out of the window, and dusted her hands against each other as it crashed to the ground outside.
I clamped my jaw shut to stop my laughter giving me away, and drew back from the door, shoulders shaking in silent mirth.
At least I didn’t have to worry about her curling up and meekly fading away from depression any time soon.
After that performance? I was pretty sure there was nothing meek about the girl at all.