Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
Iwashed and dressed and ate dinner with Tay, dreading the time I’d have to face my new clan—and my old—at the shifters’ ball.
When I went out to the courtyard, there were half a dozen other new Amber recruits waiting.
“This is the one and only time you will make this journey without flying yourselves.” Ander paced up to us, his dark gold cloak streaming behind him. “Try not to fall off. Dead shifters can’t be claimed by their dragons.”
“Is that a joke?” the girl next to me muttered.
“Not if you fall.” Ander waved his hand, and suddenly we were surrounded by dragons looming over us, with their lashing tails and enormous, toothy mouths as they regarded us.
I cringed despite myself, still feeling a thrill of fear even knowing these mighty beasts were controlled by their shifters.
The stories of dragons who had gone rogue had haunted me since childhood.
Now I knew those myths were used by the queen to keep mortals afraid and shifters in line, but that didn’t mean the myths were lies, either.
“Cara, you’ll ride with me,” Ander said, and the eyes of the other Amber recruits swiveled toward me judgmentally.
My cheeks colored, and I was tempted to declare that I could do anything the other recruits could. But, of course, that would have been a lie.
Lying to others is a survival skill. Lying to yourself is lethal.
I met Ander as the other recruits jumped to mount the dragons, who lowered themselves for them.
Ander caught my waist in one arm and swung me up with him onto the back of a dragon that was a deep burnished copper.
I settled myself as quickly as I could behind the spined head, trying to keep from touching Ander.
I was a little too aware of his hard-muscled, warm body and the awkwardness of being so close to him.
Ander gestured again, and the world dropped out from beneath us as all the dragons launched. I gasped, and Ander’s arm tightened around me. “You’re all right, Cara.”
The dragons leveled out, gliding over the glittering coastline. The sea spread beneath us in endless dark blue waves.
And then the island came into view.
At first it looked like nothing more than jagged cliffs rising from the sea.
But as we drew closer, the structures built into the rock came into view: arches of obsidian stone, glowing runes carved into weathered pillars, bridges suspended between towering spires draped in ivy.
Lanterns floated among the trees, scattering purple and blue light.
It was a place full of tiered dance floors and banquet floors, secret grottoes that flashed into view and disappeared, and ramshackle cottages with empty chimneys and windows.
“Where did this place come from?” I asked over the roar of the wind.
“Some shifters used to live here,” he said it briefly, as if he did not wish to discuss it any further. “The queen has not objected to us using it for drunken revelry. Perhaps because she does not know, though that seems unlikely.”
It felt as if we were careening wildly down toward the ground, but then we landed with surprising grace. The rest of Amber landed around us, a field full of dragons that towered over us all, and I was small in their shadow for a few heartbeats before they were men and women once more.
“Do you really think I’ll be claimed by a dragon?” I asked him, thinking of his earlier comment about my fierce dragon.
“Certainly. Even dragons have a morbid sense of curiosity.”
He led me on to the top floor of the tiered dance floor. More levels spread out around us, seeming to bloom from the incredibly tall, ancient trees; they were all full of shifters laughing, dancing, drinking. On one level in the center with musicians playing.
His hand brushed the small of my back as he guided me forward. Not possessive, but claiming. Letting everyone in the glittering, vicious crowd know I was his guest. His recruit.
His victory over Fieran, most of all.
Firefly-like lights drifted above the dancers, responding to the music’s rhythm, flaring brighter with each rise of the strings, and dimming on the low drumbeats.
The music changed.
Just slightly. A beat missed.
Or maybe it was my imagination, my heart too attuned to his presence.
Fieran stood just inside the entrance, dressed in purple-trimmed black, hair swept back from his brow, his clan behind him. His eyes scanned the room once and landed on me.
My heart stuttered.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t warm.
But it hooked something inside me just the same.
I turned my back on Fieran, looking to Ander.
“You’ve been brave to stand between two dragons.” Ander held two flagons of spiced wine, one of which he handed toward me. “Now you’ll have to be clever.”
I took the wine. “Fae wine won’t poison me?”
“No. But it might make you look more…comfortable…and less like you’ve been propped upright at your own funeral.” Ander’s eyes crinkled at the corners.
“It does feel that way,” I murmured. “Introduce me to your clan? I’ve been sleeping in the servants’ quarters in Bismyth—”
When Ander’s eyes flared with anger, I paused.
He seemed to register his impact on me and relaxed, or tried to force the appearance, at least. “Well. That doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve got proper rooms with our clan. Where you belong.”
I nodded. Fieran’s gaze burned on my back, but I didn’t turn back toward him.
Ander gave me his arm. I slipped my hand over his hard forearm, and together we walked toward a knot of shifters who stood together.
Two tall women—one sturdy and muscular, one narrow and elegant like a dancer—turned toward us.
The narrow one smiled at me. “So you’re the mortal girl.” Her voice was more curious than contemptuous, but it was a fine line.
“Half-mortal,” the taller one corrected. “Or she wouldn’t be able to carry the mark.”
“Ash, Willa. They’re usually not so rude.” Ander told me, and Ash gave him a baleful smile. “Cara.”
“Pleased to have you in our clan.” Ash managed to sound sincere.
Willa seemed more doubtful.
Someone called out to Ander. He put his hand at the small of my back, looking down into my face. He was so handsome, his dark hair tousled above his face, his lips quirked in amusement.
“I know you can handle yourself,” he murmured, “but I still hate to leave you alone in here. I’ll only be gone a few moments.”
“I’m fine. I’m eager to get to know more of Clan Amber,” I lied.
“Brave girl,” Ander said, his lips curling up at the edges, and then he was gone into the crowd. The warmth of his hand seemed to linger on my back.
“What line do you come from?” Willa asked.
“Line?” I had some idea what she meant, but I still stalled for time. As if my father might leap from between the crystal columns and announce his presence in the meantime.
“You have a mortal mother, I assume, or you would have grown up with us.” Ash’s gaze was sympathetic.
“You all grew up together? Training at the academy?”
“We didn’t know who our family would be growing up for sure, but we started to grow bonds. Most of us joined clans in groups. Friends who feel like…sisters and brothers.” Ash’s pity was impossible to hide; she seemed to think I would always be an interloper.
“When did you leave your families?” I felt a flicker of pity for her, thinking of growing up in the cold, austere world they inhabited, no matter how magical.
“Around seven or eight,” Willa said impatiently, as if the subject were dull. “Why didn’t your father bring you?”
Behind me, laughter rippled through the crowd, low and magnetic, and my pulse stuttered.
Fieran.
I didn’t look back, but I could feel him, like heat rolling off a fire I knew not to touch. He was talking quietly with one of his clan, but I had the feeling his attention kept slipping to me, just like mine to him.
I shrugged. “I don’t know his mind.”
One of the men in the clump of the shifters turned toward us then, sipping from his own flagon with such a casual air I knew it was an act. He’s been listening. “You don’t know his mind? Or you don’t know him at all?”
“I don’t know him,” I admitted.
Willa looked at me sharply. “Do you even know who he is?”
“No.”
“He never claimed you.” Now there was no hiding Ash’s pity.
It bothered me even more than the male’s harsh laugh as he said, “Maybe he’s waiting to see if she lives or burns.”
My stomach sank. Was my father waiting to see if he wanted to claim me or not, based on my performance?
I raised my chin.
A familiar scent touched me. Warm, hard muscle brushed my shoulder.
“Ander thought she was worth fighting for.” Fieran’s voice was low and steady at my side. “Perhaps you should raise your objections to him. I’m sure he’d find them fascinating.”
He raised his hand, beckoning Ander over. As soon as Ander saw Fieran at my side, his eyes widened; he gave his companion a distracted excuse and clapped his shoulder, but he was already heading our way like an arrow fired from a bow.
Fieran’s satisfaction was a flash in those golden eyes. He clearly enjoyed the way Ander responded to him, the bastard.
Ash, Willa, and the male made slightly frantic excuses to turn away. Ander was making his way through the crowd, but for a moment, Fieran and I were alone.
“Hello, prince.” I still found his title a betrayal.
“Hello, mortal.” He matched my tone, then grinned, as if to take away the sting. He was just mocking me and my cold tone.
“I don’t need you to defend me to my new clan.” I met his gaze evenly, choosing words I knew would hurt. “Ander won the right to have me at his side.”
“He did.” Fieran seemed amused, not stung. “With your help.”
I bit my lip, unsure how to answer. He seemed so glib and easy now, but he was always a man wearing many masks.
He had looked at me as if I had betrayed him, just before Ander pummeled him into a streak across the marble. He might be half-smiling now, but I thought maybe I’d glimpsed the real Fieran in his moment of hurt and shock.
“Are you worried I’m mad at you?” he asked.
“No.” My chin jerked up defiantly.