Chapter 53
Bloomhower’s voice sounds loud and panicked through the link.
—Guards caught us…Alexis had to kill them—
I turn to Jordan. “Will you excuse me dearest, I must attend to nature.”
But before I can step down from the raised platform, a shout comes from the back of the room. “Secure the exits, breach alert.”
The mansion’s automated security kicks in. Heavy steel shutters slam over the windows and doors, locking us all in. The energy in the place turns frantic.
But as the music cuts off, there’s a shift. Excitement. Murmuring.
The crowd part and I see a unit of guards dragging the unconscious body of Alexis towards the dais. Fuck.
The guards drop Alexis’s limp body right at the feet of my father.
“You say he killed two guards,” my father snarls, “and was found in the library?”
“Yes, sir. And there were ancient documents spread out everywhere, like he was looking for something.”
Father turns to me. “You know this man?”
Fuck. “Indeed. He’s a Kormovian professor at the academy. Boring, but with an insatiable interest in history. That he’d have the wherewithal to kill is extremely unlikely.”
“A Kormovian spy in our midst," Singleton-Smithe snarls. “You are a fool, son. And he dared touch the archives of his betters? Tyrus, I want him executed.”
Across the room, I feel Theo’s panic spike through our link. Max is stalking towards the podium, and the hellhound is seconds from exploding out of his skin.
—Max…wait…not yet—
—You’d better fucking do something, Drakeward…or I’m going to tear out all their throats—
“He will be made an example of,” Father declares. “The Conclave shows no mercy.” He looks at me with cold eyes. “Son, step forward. Let us show the people our fire.”
As I move to his side, my father raises his right hand and clicks his fingers. A pillar of roiling, gray dragon-fire erupts from his palm, scorching the air.
The guests fucking applaud.
“And, son?”
I copy his action, but my flames are gold, and far more intense. Jordan lets out a shrill, delighted squeal as others gasp.
—Cosmo…what are you going to do? What should I do?—
—Stay safe, Theodora—
“Enemies of the Conclave will be incinerated!" Tyrus bellows, his hand beginning to lower towards Alexis.
The world slows. I see Max’s muscles bunch and tense as he prepares to launch himself forward. I see Theo scream, her docile character totally broken.
And then, I feel my dragon.
He explodes out of me, knocking aside everyone on the dais then pouncing upon my father, pinning him to the ground with a set of lethal talons. I’m vaguely aware of screaming and chaos around me, but my focus is on the man who made me.
Blood trickles from the corner of Father’s mouth. “Release me and stand down,” he wheezes, but the Lumina reduces his command to ash.
“Janine, get the suppressant! Guards! Guards!”
A bullet hits my scales, but doesn’t penetrate.
Inhale.
Exhale. A torrent of brilliant, golden fire pours from my throat, but at the same time Tyrus becomes encased in his own gray dragon-fire. It creates a cocoon to protect the bastard. Within the ashy flames, Tyrus screams at me. “Traitor, I will kill you.”
Then, the ground shakes.
Tyrus isn't just a witch with a gift anymore. His tuxedo turns to an oil slick as his body expands, his spine elongating and wings unfurling with the sound of wet leather. Within seconds, a massive, charcoal-scaled dragon stands where my father once was, his head halfway to the vaulted ceiling.
We are at a standoff.
Tyrus lets out a deafening roar that vibrates in my teeth. It’s filled with triumph and excitement. This is the first time he’s shifted, and that’s to my advantage. He doesn’t know his beast at all.
Our flames continue to cancel each other out.
He knows he can’t kill me easily, but he'll be looking for a weakness.
Swinging his massive body around, he alters the angle of his flames. Still attacking me, but now Alexis is also directly in the path of destruction.
NO!
I don't think, just throw my dragon-formed body into the air, wings snapping wide to shield Feniks before the flames hit him.
The pain is absolute. It’s the sound of my own scales melting and the smell of charred meat. I roar, my vision turning white, but I don't move. I am the shield.
—Theo... RUN—