Up In Smoke
Page 63
‘‘What?’’ I asked him, wondering what that look was about.
His lips quirked. ‘‘You yelled. I’ve never heard you yell before.’’
‘‘She started it,’’ I said, pointing at Chuan Ren.
She spat out another word, this time directed at me, and with it, an epiphany came. The anger that had been steadily building within me flashed hot and pure, and before I could blink, I was across the room, slamming Chuan Ren up against the wall, my curved scarlet claws pricking deep into the white flesh of her throat. ‘‘I am the mate of the silver wyvern. You dare use that tone with me?’’
Answering fire burned in her eyes as silver scales rippled up my hands and arms. She knocked me backwards, but I had a grip on her hair and took her with me, the two of us rolling in a ball of claws, fire, and painful blows.
She cracked my head into Bael’s desk, causing me to roar in fury, fire erupting around us as I whipped my legs around, knocking her down. Her claws flashed silver in the light as she slashed at my face, but I was too fast for her, slamming my fist into her throat. She kicked me in my gut and blasted me with dragon fire. I was about to return the favor when Gabriel, who had been yelling my name, yanked me backwards, out of her grip.
I stood hunched over, panting fire, my entire being focused on destroying the female who threatened my mate . . . and as that thought coalesced in my brain, I froze in horror. What was I doing? I never fought unless it was a matter of life or death. I never yelled—a lifetime spent in Magoth’s service had taught me the wisdom of keeping my temper under control. And now here I was, not only thinking, but acting like a dragon.
‘‘I think I’m going to be sick,’’ I murmured, turning away from the sight of Chuan Ren slowly getting to her feet.
‘‘As amusing as this is, I do not have time for these games,’’ Bael said. ‘‘You abuse my patience. Either pay the price I demand for the dragon, or leave.’’
‘‘Your patience is going to be one sad panda if you don’t release Chuan Ren to us,’’ someone said, and with horror I realized it was me.
I clapped a hand over my mouth again as Gabriel shot me a startled look. I wanted to cringe before Bael and beg his forgiveness at the same time I had an almost overwhelming urge to punch him in the nose and set his hair on fire.
Bael looked at me with blatant surprise. ‘‘Does Magoth condone his consort acting in such a manner?’’
I took a deep breath, got a firm grip on the horrible, out-of-control mess that was my emotions, and lifted my chin. ‘‘Magoth knows full well I’m here, and yes, he told me I had his approval to release Chuan Ren.’’
‘‘Indeed.’’ Bael’s expression turned calculating. ‘‘I believe I underestimated him. He is smarter than I gave him credit for, inducing you to have him expelled from Abaddon so that he might regain his powers.’’
‘‘What?’’ I shrieked, horror swamping me.
Gabriel frowned. ‘‘My mate does not seek excommunication of Magoth, only the return of the wyvern Chuan Ren.’’
‘‘I beg to differ,’’ Bael said mildly, still fiddling with the bone letter opener. ‘‘She has made a demand that I release a minion to her. Such an act consists of insurrection, and since she is Magoth’s consort, it will be he who suffers the penalty. As any consort knows, that price is removal from Abaddon.’’
‘‘Agathos daimon,’’ I swore, a horrible vision before me, my skin crawling as the full extent of what Bael was saying was made clear. ‘‘Magoth would be expelled from Abaddon and released on the mortal world.’’
Gabriel’s frown tightened a smidgen. ‘‘He’s already in the mortal world. How could a permanent expulsion be any worse?’’
Bael pressed a button on his phone, and immediately two demons appeared. He waved toward Chuan Ren. ‘‘Take her back to her accommodations.’’
‘‘No!’’ she snarled, her eyes spitting fire as the demons approached her. ‘‘I will not stay here! You will have me released no matter what it takes!’’
Gabriel and I watched silently as she was hauled away, screaming and fighting every step.
He turned to me and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.
I swallowed down a painful lump in my throat. ‘‘According to the Doctrine of Unending Conscious, if a prince is permanently expulsed from Abaddon, he loses control of his legions, his seat on the council, and his right to call on the ruling prince for help in times of need.’’
Gabriel’s second eyebrow rose to join the first.
Bael smiled.
I slumped against the wall, battered, exhausted, and sick at heart. ‘‘But he would take with him a compensation for services rendered on behalf of Abaddon. In other words, Magoth would be unleashed on the mortal world with the full extent of his knowledge, abilities . . . and powers.’’
Chapter Twenty
Fiat called a weyr meeting for that evening. This was a much smaller event than the previous sárkány, held in a private room at a dragon-owned restaurant. Aisling and Drake were present (the latter looking none too happy about his mate’s presence), as were Bastian, Fiat, and to my surprise, Kostya and Cyrene.
‘‘Mayling!’’ the last had called as Gabriel and I entered the room, about to run to hug me, but pausing with an odd look of incomprehension on her face. ‘‘May?’’
‘‘Hello, Cy. What are you and Kostya doing here?’’ I asked, pain twisting in my gut as my twin reacted to my now more-dragon-than-doppelganger self.
‘‘Kostya is on probation. Or something like that. He has applied for formal recognition, and evidently one of the rules says he can’t cause any trouble with any of the septs, so he’s here to show there’s no hard feelings between us and you.’’
The ‘‘you’’ stung. Cyrene had always spoken of the silver dragons as separate from me, but now I was clearly one of them.
I nodded, miserable, and followed Gabriel as he took his place at a long table. The sárkány was short, just long enough for Fiat to claim he had challenged and beaten the red wyvern, and he was now leader of that sept.
‘‘Oh, yeah, I just bet it went that way,’’ Jim said, leaning against Aisling’s leg.
His lips quirked. ‘‘You yelled. I’ve never heard you yell before.’’
‘‘She started it,’’ I said, pointing at Chuan Ren.
She spat out another word, this time directed at me, and with it, an epiphany came. The anger that had been steadily building within me flashed hot and pure, and before I could blink, I was across the room, slamming Chuan Ren up against the wall, my curved scarlet claws pricking deep into the white flesh of her throat. ‘‘I am the mate of the silver wyvern. You dare use that tone with me?’’
Answering fire burned in her eyes as silver scales rippled up my hands and arms. She knocked me backwards, but I had a grip on her hair and took her with me, the two of us rolling in a ball of claws, fire, and painful blows.
She cracked my head into Bael’s desk, causing me to roar in fury, fire erupting around us as I whipped my legs around, knocking her down. Her claws flashed silver in the light as she slashed at my face, but I was too fast for her, slamming my fist into her throat. She kicked me in my gut and blasted me with dragon fire. I was about to return the favor when Gabriel, who had been yelling my name, yanked me backwards, out of her grip.
I stood hunched over, panting fire, my entire being focused on destroying the female who threatened my mate . . . and as that thought coalesced in my brain, I froze in horror. What was I doing? I never fought unless it was a matter of life or death. I never yelled—a lifetime spent in Magoth’s service had taught me the wisdom of keeping my temper under control. And now here I was, not only thinking, but acting like a dragon.
‘‘I think I’m going to be sick,’’ I murmured, turning away from the sight of Chuan Ren slowly getting to her feet.
‘‘As amusing as this is, I do not have time for these games,’’ Bael said. ‘‘You abuse my patience. Either pay the price I demand for the dragon, or leave.’’
‘‘Your patience is going to be one sad panda if you don’t release Chuan Ren to us,’’ someone said, and with horror I realized it was me.
I clapped a hand over my mouth again as Gabriel shot me a startled look. I wanted to cringe before Bael and beg his forgiveness at the same time I had an almost overwhelming urge to punch him in the nose and set his hair on fire.
Bael looked at me with blatant surprise. ‘‘Does Magoth condone his consort acting in such a manner?’’
I took a deep breath, got a firm grip on the horrible, out-of-control mess that was my emotions, and lifted my chin. ‘‘Magoth knows full well I’m here, and yes, he told me I had his approval to release Chuan Ren.’’
‘‘Indeed.’’ Bael’s expression turned calculating. ‘‘I believe I underestimated him. He is smarter than I gave him credit for, inducing you to have him expelled from Abaddon so that he might regain his powers.’’
‘‘What?’’ I shrieked, horror swamping me.
Gabriel frowned. ‘‘My mate does not seek excommunication of Magoth, only the return of the wyvern Chuan Ren.’’
‘‘I beg to differ,’’ Bael said mildly, still fiddling with the bone letter opener. ‘‘She has made a demand that I release a minion to her. Such an act consists of insurrection, and since she is Magoth’s consort, it will be he who suffers the penalty. As any consort knows, that price is removal from Abaddon.’’
‘‘Agathos daimon,’’ I swore, a horrible vision before me, my skin crawling as the full extent of what Bael was saying was made clear. ‘‘Magoth would be expelled from Abaddon and released on the mortal world.’’
Gabriel’s frown tightened a smidgen. ‘‘He’s already in the mortal world. How could a permanent expulsion be any worse?’’
Bael pressed a button on his phone, and immediately two demons appeared. He waved toward Chuan Ren. ‘‘Take her back to her accommodations.’’
‘‘No!’’ she snarled, her eyes spitting fire as the demons approached her. ‘‘I will not stay here! You will have me released no matter what it takes!’’
Gabriel and I watched silently as she was hauled away, screaming and fighting every step.
He turned to me and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.
I swallowed down a painful lump in my throat. ‘‘According to the Doctrine of Unending Conscious, if a prince is permanently expulsed from Abaddon, he loses control of his legions, his seat on the council, and his right to call on the ruling prince for help in times of need.’’
Gabriel’s second eyebrow rose to join the first.
Bael smiled.
I slumped against the wall, battered, exhausted, and sick at heart. ‘‘But he would take with him a compensation for services rendered on behalf of Abaddon. In other words, Magoth would be unleashed on the mortal world with the full extent of his knowledge, abilities . . . and powers.’’
Chapter Twenty
Fiat called a weyr meeting for that evening. This was a much smaller event than the previous sárkány, held in a private room at a dragon-owned restaurant. Aisling and Drake were present (the latter looking none too happy about his mate’s presence), as were Bastian, Fiat, and to my surprise, Kostya and Cyrene.
‘‘Mayling!’’ the last had called as Gabriel and I entered the room, about to run to hug me, but pausing with an odd look of incomprehension on her face. ‘‘May?’’
‘‘Hello, Cy. What are you and Kostya doing here?’’ I asked, pain twisting in my gut as my twin reacted to my now more-dragon-than-doppelganger self.
‘‘Kostya is on probation. Or something like that. He has applied for formal recognition, and evidently one of the rules says he can’t cause any trouble with any of the septs, so he’s here to show there’s no hard feelings between us and you.’’
The ‘‘you’’ stung. Cyrene had always spoken of the silver dragons as separate from me, but now I was clearly one of them.
I nodded, miserable, and followed Gabriel as he took his place at a long table. The sárkány was short, just long enough for Fiat to claim he had challenged and beaten the red wyvern, and he was now leader of that sept.
‘‘Oh, yeah, I just bet it went that way,’’ Jim said, leaning against Aisling’s leg.
