17. Con（descension）
Con(descension)
“I win, again!” I said as I jumped out of the hot sand and skidded to a stop inside the slightly cooler hangar.
After pulling off my soaking wet balaclava, I tucked it into the waistband of my running shorts and sighed with relief. Squire chirped as he balanced on my shoulder.
The heat wave was oppressive. For some reason, Antichthon was having more extreme weather events.
My clothes clung to me like I’d jumped into a river, but my morning run was still the best part of my day.
My period had also finally ended, and I’d conjured a whirlpool for the first time with the Marshal since the Iron Ritual.
Things were finally looking up.
Sweat dripped from my lashes, coating my mouth in tangy salt. No matter how many times I licked it, it wouldn’t go away. Annoyed, I lifted the hem of my shirt and scrubbed at my face.
Tarantula made a guttural sound as he fell into step next to me, still in his white balaclava.
“No, thou did not win,” he said, his voice deepening. “It was a tie.”
“Incorrect—I leaped across first,” I argued, wiping at my stinging eyes.
He swore under his breath.
“You’re just jealous,” I said through my shirt. “That you can’t keep up with my impressive physical prowess—”
“Ravenal, put your shirt down,” he ordered stiffly. “Now.”
“What?” I blotted all around my face because the stupid sweat kept pouring from my forehead.
“Put it down,” he said through gritted teeth. “Right now. ’Tis beyond indecent.”
I held the hem up and wrung moisture out of it. “What’s wrong with you?”
Tarantula stared down at my torso, his lips pressed into a flat line, jaw clenching. “Don’t be a brat.”
“You’re so odd,” I said as I dropped it, covering up my abdominal muscles. I was proud of all the new definition I’d gotten recently, and I wasn’t going to let him make me feel bad about it. “First the ankle, then the knees, now this. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very abnormal person?”
“Yes.”
“Well . . . maybe work on yourself. Self-improvement is important.”
“I shan’t.”
“Loser mentality,” I muttered. “Extremely unattractive.”
He huffed, his boots silent against the stone. Heat radiated off him in tangible waves, and the corners of his shorts were once again tucked indecently into his waistband, exposing his thighs for all to see. Absolutely disgusting.
“Do not speak to me about what is attractive,” he grumbled. “Everyone was feasting their eyes on your glorious flesh, Ravenal. Have some decorum. ’Tis embarrassing.”
“No, they weren’t,” I said, and his eyes narrowed. “Ohmyoldgod, you’re such a princess.”
“Thou have no idea,” he mumbled under his breath. “A single glimpse and I am . . . distraught.”
I barely avoided banging into a workbench and spun, tripping into a solid wall—Tarantula. He reeked of dark cherry, darker intentions, and sweaty man.
“Ew,” I said as I bounced off him. “Foul. Ick. Grimy.”
He stared down at me silently.
“You need to shower,” I said.
He didn’t answer, his eyes sharp through the holes of the hood he still hadn’t removed.
“You smell,” I added.
“Zora, you protest a lot,” Squire sang on my shoulder in a shocking display of critical thinking skills (unhelpful).
I glared at my tiny owl.
He tilted his head, staring at me with wide eyes.
“I’m going to write a letter to my mom,” I whispered, mostly because I needed an excuse. Pushing away from Tarantula, flushed and off-kilter, I ran away.
* * *
“New intelligence has come forward,” the Marshal said with a satisfied smirk, Shadow Swords flanking her.
She stood at the front of the austere conference room. She’d called the emergency meeting an hour ago, and I still hadn’t changed out of my soaked running clothes.
Pouring water from a pitcher on the table, I filled a glass and greedily gulped down the cool liquid.
Ella and Axel sat next to me on one side of the long wooden table. Tarantula sat on the other. He stared at me, as he had the entire meeting. He’d taken his balaclava off, and he was flushed from exertion, his curls disheveled.
Hyperaware of his gaze, I made a point of looking only at the Marshal. Unlike him, I wasn’t obvious. I could be subtle.
I’m going to outplay you.
I’m going to complete my quest.
I’m going to win.
The Marshal’s posture was rigid, her eyes blank.
She gave nothing away as she spoke. “We have credible intel that the Draconis Empire has two Royal Mages acting as spies in the Commonwealth. This is a huge development and threat, not one but two enemies within our walls. All four of you must go. This must be neutralized. Failure is not an option.”
The Southern mission she’s talked about.
I focused on my glass of water.
“They’re both located in our Babilon Commune.
” She pointed to the Westmere map that stretched across the wall behind her.
“The first Mage is a male going by the alias Sibrain Cortz. He’s running a high-end wine tavern.
The second Mage is a male going by the alias Arcturus, no last name, and he runs a famous bathhouse.
The four of you will head out today. Your mission is to eliminate Sibrain and Arcturus by any means necessary. ”
She paused, then held up one finger. “All the Royal Mages must be destroyed if democracy has a chance of defeating the Empire. Any questions?”
A loud squeak sounded as my knee knocked against the table.
“How did you obtain this intel?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“That’s classified.” Her gaze flickered over to Tarantula.
Interesting.
Every day he was acting more cooperative.
The Marshal pursed her lips, glaring down at me. “Your Mage training is not progressing as anticipated. Bring your daggers. We will focus on your magic when you return.”
I nodded, catching the unspoken orders.
She turned to the rest of the group. “Southern clothes have been obtained for this mission. They are waiting for you in your rooms. You’ll want to blend in with the locals.
Good luck, Mages.” Shadow Swords stood at attention, surrounding her as a seamless unit.
Ryse tried to catch my gaze, but I looked down, guilt heavy in my chest. Tarantula roughly shoved his chair back across the stone, making a loud noise, and stood up.
The door slammed shut behind them.
“Thou art powerless and pathetic,” Tarantula said coldly, leaning forward with his hands on the table, clearly incensed over Ryse. “I’ve never met a Mage so lazy—”
Water hurled across the room, splashing Tarantula as glass shards exploded against the wall next to his head. Not again. I waved my arm. “Uh, oops—I didn’t mean to throw it,” I said, quickly covering the fact that I’d never actually touched the glass.
Tarantula shook his head, water flying off the ends of his drenched curls. From the way he seethed, he hadn’t picked up on my error. Thank the old god. The quest was still intact.
I stood up stiffly and headed for the door, but Tarantula blocked my path. “Do not throw things at me.”
“Or what?” I asked with a scoff, still trying to hide my glowing fingers.
He crowded me. “I’ll have to . . . discipline thee.”
I slapped his face. Just because I’m distracting him. I definitely did not feel an intense rush of satisfaction as Tarantula jolted, lips parting with outrage. A gasp of shock burst from his throat as he brought his fingers to his reddening cheek. Why was that so satisfying?
He pushed me backward so I was flush against the wall. “Do not strike me,” he said.
I slapped him again.
His jaw dropped as he gaped down at me. Nice, I can see my fingerprints. Our chests bumped. My nipples were hard, and the friction sent sparks down to my core. I’m just cold, that’s it. Nothing else is happening here.
He jerked backward, chains clinking as he tugged at his curls with frustration. “Improper,” he whispered with a hiss. “Inappropriate.” The tips of his ears were now bright red, matching my handprint on his cheek.
He took another step back.
This time I took one forward. Emboldened, I crowded him toward the table. He stopped as his legs knocked against the wood.
“What was that about impropriety?” I asked, shoving at his chest. “Careful—I might show you my . . . ankle,” I whispered dramatically.
He flinched as if struck.
“Or maybe my knee . . . cap.”
He fisted his hands.
There is no other man in all Westmere this prudish.
“Ravenal,” he breathed out, every line of his body taut with tension. “Cease this. Thou do not want me to snap.”
On my tiptoes, I leaned forward so I could laugh mockingly into his face. “Maybe I’ll snap first?”
Intrigue flashed in his gaze as he froze. “And . . . what would thee snapping . . . look like?” His voice brimmed with curiosity.
I patted his cheek (slapped him for the third time).
His eyes flashed.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He scoffed like I was just a nuisance and not the person who was going to destroy him. Emotionally and physically. I leaned my hands on the table and caged him in with my body.
He practically sat back on the table, still trying to get away. We were pressed together, so close that I could feel the exact moment a shiver ran through his chest. Magic poured off his flesh, burning my skin.
“Hmm, maybe don’t do . . . whatever this is,” Axel drawled. “Soldiers are waiting to use the conference room, so I think you should stop—” he waved his hands at us “—this.”
The twins sat in their chairs, gaping at us. Squire stood on Ella’s head, happily eating seeds. Heat burned my face. How did I forget they were also here?
I stepped away from Tarantula and straightened my clothes. “We’re done anyway,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.
Tarantula, who was still awkwardly bent backward across the table, didn’t look convinced. “Are we?” he asked pointedly.
“Yes.” Ella draped her arm over my shoulders and steered me out of the room before I could reengage.
Axel followed close behind us. “I’ve heard a lot of things about Babilon,” he said ominously as we separated to our rooms.
“Uh, guys,” I said as I stepped back into the hall.
Axel stuck his head out and held up silky white material. “Why is it transparent?” Ella stepped out holding similar fabric. It was the same sheer material that was waiting on my bed.
All three of us swore in unison.