30. In the Care of Dragons #2
The only movement in Cyphus’s face is the flicker of his eyes, hopping to each of us, moving from Tage’s face to Danhy and Viggo. Finally, he sighs as though reaching a decision. “I can see you’re upset, Tage. Maybe I went too far. If I did, I apologize.”
If?
“That’s your apology?” Danhy asks as though she cannot stop herself. Crossing her arms, she shakes her head. “Sorry, Cy, but are you trying to get yourself exiled? You can do better than that.”
Viggo nods in agreement.
“Stay out of this,” he growls. “Both of you. I’m sure Tage is not talking about exiling—”
“Oh, but that is exactly what I mean.”
Cyphus pulls back as though struck. “You don’t—”
“You can’t be trusted. That means you can’t be a member of this pride.”
“I can’t be trusted?” Cyphus pounds a hand to his chest in emphasis, clearly implying he’s not the one in doubt.
“Come now. Even before you disobeyed my command, you’ve been questioning my every decision.”
Cyphus finally snaps, his face lunging forward like a snake shooting from its burrow. “Because you’re fucking weak!” He waves to the others. “They would admit it, too, if they had the spines. All of you!” His eyes spear each of them. “Fucking weak!”
Tage’s arms tighten ever so slightly around me, the only sign that Cyphus’s insults affect him. “I’ll give you five minutes to gather your things and any supplies you need.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” he snarls. Then his burning eyes drop to me.
“We know what this is about. You have some twisted infatuation with her. You want to fuck her. Taste a human, taste her. Go ahead. No judgment . . . we all have our fetishes. If you want to play with your food first, fine. Afterward, you do what you ought to and finish her.” He shakes his head.
“The skelm have the right of it. Humans are just prey. Meat. They should not be allowed to share the same air as us. We should wipe them from the earth like they tried to do to us. We’re at war, and you’re just too dumb to realize it. ”
Cyphus’s gaze sweeps over the others while he points a damning finger at me. “You want to live freely? Claim our rightful place at the top? Start by getting rid of that.”
I flinch. I am just a . . . that.
Not even a life.
Merely a thing.
I realize then that he doesn’t hate me. Hate is too strong an emotion. I am nothing. A life that doesn’t matter. To him, I’m simply an insect, one little bug within an infestation that requires elimination.
Danhy and Viggo look miserable.
With a jolt, I realize he’s calling the others to action . . . inciting a rebellion.
Tage realizes it, too.
They all do: Danhy and Viggo and even the newcomer, Merik. They must pick a side. Their heads swivel, each eyeing the other.
I swallow wretchedly, searching Tage’s face, wondering if this is it. The move he can’t outmaneuver.
Tage can either allow this to happen or . . . or . . .
I’m not sure what the or involves. What would resistance even look like? He can’t possibly defeat the four of them if they band together against him.
And yet it seems Tage fully understands all the nuances at play here. “Well?” he addresses Danhy, Viggo, and Merik. “Are you with him? Or me?”
None of them react. Except Cyphus. Fanning the flames, he urges them in a voice far too reasonable for my liking. “Listen to your instinct, to your dragon . . . it will tell you what to do.”
I lightly touch Tage’s shoulder. He can’t risk his pride for me. If he loses them, he loses everything, maybe even his life. And for what? At that point, I’ll be dead anyway. “It’s fine. You can let me go.”
His eyes flash. “No.” The word bites the air between us in hard refusal.
“Yes,” I gently counter.
Tage responds by setting me on my feet, handling me carefully, like I’m some delicate piece of glass.
A quick glance at his stony expression reveals that it’s not me he’s handling with care .
. . but himself. His face isn’t quite his face anymore.
His onyx flesh flashes and undulates, overwhelming the human skin.
The bridge of his nose ripples, ridges appearing and then disappearing along the slope.
Pushing me behind him, he braces himself in front of me, stance wide, arms primed for action.
Still a man, but with a beast humming within him, ready to burst free, throbbing and vibrating like the earth itself, expanding and contracting.
He feels larger than ever as he looms like a wall before me, shielding. Protecting.
“What will it be?” he asks Danhy and Viggo, his voice thick, the words a bit garbled, as though his teeth are too big to fit in his mouth, and I know.
His dragon is close, just swimming beneath the surface.
“You go with the one eager for war, hungry to destroy life or you choose me. You already know what I am.”
Do they?
I peer at their faces, trying to discern their thoughts.
Do they see him as I do? Not as I did when I first clapped eyes on him, deluded from the lies of the past, too afraid, too angry, too full of sorrow to recognize him for what he is .
. . for what I see him to be now? A way forward through the darkness and chaos . . .
Please, please see him.
“No one needs to choose,” Cyphus grates out. “I’ll make it simple so there is only one choice.”
Only one choice?
I look wildly around at the faces, not understanding what is happening.
Danhy shakes her head, her eyes wide. “No, Cy, no, don’t say—”
“I challenge you to a . . . profa.”
Viggo groans.
Danhy closes her eyes.
Profa? What does that mean?
I strain to glimpse Tage’s face to see his reaction, but I can’t. Especially not when his hands stretch behind him to push me even farther away, putting more distance between us.
I stumble back several steps. Righting myself, I start forward again. “What—”
“Don’t.” Tage’s voice lashes out like a whip, and I freeze. “Stay back.”
I glance around in bewilderment but do as bade.
“It’s time to set things right,” Cyphus declares.
“That means I’m not exiled . . . and Tage is no longer the alpha here.
” A merciless grin spreads across his face.
Clearly, he’s relishing the moment. Whatever profa is, he thinks it’s his to win.
“I’ve given the challenge. Can’t take it back if I want to. And I don’t want to.”
Danhy’s eyes are open again, her chest heaving as she implores, “Cy, Tage, no!”
It’s this—the sight of her so overwrought that tells me we are on the brink of something disastrous. Her anxiety is contagious. My skin goes clammy and my stomach clenches.
I stare hard at Tage’s back, fighting the urge to step forward so that I can look at him and gain some sort of insight into what is unfolding.
“He’s right.” Tage inclines his head in one slow dip. “Profa has been issued. Let’s get it over with.”
Blinding light bursts through the cavern.