CHAPTER 32

Cillumn blinked himself awake. He was alone in his bed in the Aerie. None of which was unusual, since Lis had taken to sleeping where she worked. He didn't plan to suffer the situation for long, but he hoped, if he gave her time to adjust to the idea, she would eventually accept the situation. Accept him. He ignored the little spike of worry that told him she had no reason to accept him, that he was unacceptable, as he had been to whatever family had left him as a child.

Instead, he looked around the chamber. Something had awoken him.

He had never kept much in the way of furniture: a few chests to store clothing, a writing desk, and a small table at which he might take smaller meals. So his cursory inspection was over quickly and involved nothing of concern.

Yet something was different. He struggled with the remnants of sleep, trying to place just what.

The table.

He hadn't eaten in the room last evening. Instead, he had tried to coax interaction out of Lis, who had taken over the medic's room. In fact, he hadn't used the table in quite some time and it should have been empty. But it wasn't.

Even in the gloom of the night, he could see a large shape protruding upward, silhouetted against the far wall.

Any remnants of sleep faded and he sat, fumbling with the flint and lantern he kept within arms-reach. Lifting the shutter fully, he raised the light, scattering sharp shadows around the room like forest creatures diving for cover.

There, in the center of the table, was something. It looked like a plant, or small bush, placed decoratively and precisely.

That, in itself, wouldn't have been a problem, except he was positive it hadn't been there when he went to bed. Which meant someone had been in his room while he slept. A very uncomfortable and threatening prospect.

He raised himself from the bed and padded in bare feet across the stone floor of the room.

His alarm grew with each step as he neared, the shapes becoming clearer.

It was as he had guessed, a plant. Flowers, to be exact, in large bunches and attached to their stems and leave. Great care had been taken in their arrangement.

The very same flowers he had become so recently familiar with, and their presence sent a message.

This was a warning.

***

Lis placed the last jar upon the neatly organized shelf, the top level of a wall of neatly organized shelves. Her fingers trailed along the smooth, fist sized bulb, some of the lantern oil still sloshed in the bottom.

She had been relegated to the medic's old room, and somehow put in charge of healing, in general. The Onyx Aerie pack had been retrieved, or rather they had been on their way to her, only a half a days walk from the Aerie upon their return from Scet's hut. Looking for healing, so desperate that even she would do. Now, they were quarantined within the Amber Aerie, a process which had sparked a high degree of argument between the Aerie Lords, and a string of councils aiming to change the Archon's mind.

Almost a quarter of the family she once knew had been infected. The others, not knowing to keep those bitten at a distance, at high risk of infection themselves. Fortunately, Lis had managed to separate the ill, and guard them well. Unfortunately, she had no way to cure the possession, or even slow its progress. Three days she had worked tirelessly, seeing to her duty when all she wished was to chase her sister down herself. And in three days, she heard nothing of what became of Adda.

Scet had taken off after her, nearly as soon as she was discovered missing, reinstating his vow to keep her safe. Perhaps Lis should have protested, should have released him from any such promise, but Adda was out there alone and she couldn't bring herself to take away any advantage her sister might gain. Strale, too, when he returned, had gone after her. His reasons Lis was less certain of, she only knew that he and Cillumn had spent a long hour in deep conversation before he announced his intentions and flew off into the night.

She should have been relieved, but it worried her that she still had no word.

In the passing time, she had occupied herself by studying the progress of the disease, enough to know that, once one was infected, they did not have much time left as themselves. Already, the Dragon Lord who had been bitten had to be destroyed, along with three warriors from her pack. A devastating loss, and all she could do was to prevent more damage.

Her mother was one of those unaffected, thank the Six, but now she, and the new Alpha, were insisting it was time for them to leave the Amber Aerie, abandoning the infected to their fate in order to begin anew. Truthfully, Lis had only heard the discussion in passing, as she moved through the quarantine, distributing lantern fuel. She had been trying to avoid the woman…how could she face her now? She had failed to bring Adda back and she mated a dragon. She was shame embodied.

Rumor abounded that the Onyx Aerie had a new Archon, one not tied to Grim...and whatever he had become…so the pack wished to return, to beg re-entrance into the Aerie and the servitude of the Lords, as it once was.

Lis didn't like it, but she was hardly in a position to influence their choices. Hells, she had never been in a position to influence their choices.

She returned to her workbench and sat, folding her fingers on top, staring at the room, but not seeing anything.

“You still saved her, you know.”

Cillumn's voice sounded from the doorway, where he stood with a tray of food balanced in one hand and two glasses and a jug of wine in another. He was talking about Adda, of course, guessing where her mind had been; the same thing he'd been telling her for three days, yet she still felt as though she failed her sister somehow.

“She is free from her captivity and the horrors she might have faced there. How she chooses to use that freedom is not up to you. Besides, I would trust Strale with my life, and I am certain he feels responsible for her escape somehow. If he is still out there, then he must be guarding her.”

Sure. If he could find her.

Cillumn eyed the bench warily, likely worried that there might be remains of poisonous frog mucus lingering somewhere.

“It is safe,” Lis gestured to a clean spot. “But I do not need you to feed me, Cillumn, I am not a child.”

Things hadn't been the same between them since the mating. Oddly, she found herself missing their camaraderie. It occurred to her, several times over the last three days, that Cillumn just might be her first true friend...more than that now, obviously, since there was no undoing a Dragon Mating. Still, she never had anyone, besides Adda, that she might count as a friend, and she missed it now that their relationship was strained.

“So long as you will not take care of yourself, you are behaving like a child and I will care for you as though you were one.”

Lis flinched. There was more in those words than an admonition for forgetting to eat. The tension of their mating was a sore spot. It likely didn't help that she had chosen not only to spend her days in the medic room, but her nights as well, curled on a tiny cot she found in the back. Maybe it was a bit childish, but it was as though her choices had been taken from her and she could not just accept it, no matter how hard she tried. Now, however, she sighed. She was too tired to argue. She reached over to the platter and lifted a slab of cheese.

“I cannot feel her any longer,” Lis confessed. Since Adda had escaped, she had felt nothing of her. It was as if they did not share a bond at all. It terrified her that something might happen to her and Lis would have no way of knowing.

“Are you in pain?”

“What?”

“Gayriel and Scet share a bond that is breaking, apparently it is vastly painful. Are you in pain?” Cillumn plucked a grape from its bundle, a casual movement, but his gaze was nothing but. He studied her intently, as if suspecting she might be able to hide such a thing from him.

Lis shook her head. She was not in pain. But...

“Wait, isn't Gayriel mated to Dynarys? How is it that she shares a bond with Scet?”

Cillumn didn't answer for a moment, simply focused on Lis, assessing. Then he shrugged.

“I am not entirely sure how it happened. Dynarys does not like to talk about it. The last time Strale brought it up, I thought he might tear his throat out...though now I can understand his frustration.”

And they were back to the same argument.

“The dragon does not understand your rejection, Lis, he is becoming irritable and ornery.”

Lis frowned. She kept telling him the dragon was not her problem.

But even in her head, she knew that wasn't true. She was just as responsible for the beast's claiming of her as Cillumn. She mated with him willingly, after all, no coercion necessary. Besides, spending all her time in this room was starting to wear on her. She needed to be out and among people. And the only person she knew that would be happy in her company was sitting across from her now. The events had not made Cillumn any less attractive to her, and now that she knew what he was capable of...she had a difficult time regulating her thoughts to anything else.

“Here,” Cillumn pulled something from his side and handed it across the table. “You mentioned wishing to study this.”

Lis reached forward, palm up, and allowed him to drop a cool metal bit into her hand. Intense little sparks crawled up her arm from where his knuckles brushed her skin. Even that slight touch was enough to awaken her longing for him.

She looked down.

“The Glyph?”

He nodded. “The second one, the one that Scet had possession of. When Illaise took the first, Grim and his force followed, and they haven't been back, so we must assume that this one is somehow less important. The Archon agrees that if you can figure out why...then it is worth the trouble he faces by giving it to you.”

Lis flipped the thing back and forth in her fingers, not quite seeing it. He was giving her a boon, a neutral topic, but he must struggle with his desire at least as much as she did. She risked a peek upward. He sat leaned forward, muscles tense and ready to pounce, amber eyes glowing like coals in a hot fire.

“Lisrith!” Dynarys appeared at the medic room doors, silent as always in his approach. His words, however, were not silent. Nor were they calm. His face pulled into tight lines. Something unpleasant had happened.

“It's Gayriel,” he pushed inside, reaching out for Lis. She had the impression that he would have grabbed her if Cillumn had not stood at that moment and blocked his path. “She is dying.”

Dying? How could that be? Gayriel was fit and healthy for a human woman.

“What happened?”

“There is no time,” Dynarys growled. “You must come now.”

“If you do not explain the situation I will not know what to bring, and more time will be wasted. Possibly fatal time.”

Dynarys paced back toward the door, ran a hand through his short black hair, and glared at her. “I do not know what happened. We were walking through the corridor, back to our apartments. She tripped over something, I know now it was a trip line, a trap. I couldn't...,” he broke off, something vulnerable, desperate came across his face. “I didn't sense it, I don't know how that could be, but she was shot with this.”

He held out an arrow, but it was not a normal arrow. This one was a fair bit smaller than the arrows Lis was used to. The shaft was black and fletched with what were once pure white feathers.

Lis took it from him.

“I cannot heal a fatal arrow strike,” she warned.

He shook his head. “It was not fatal, I managed to shove her to the side far enough that it pierced through her shoulder instead of her heart, but the wound grows black. I believe it is poisoned.”

Lis' throat tightened, and she suddenly recalled what her trials had pushed from her mind. Her poisons had been stolen. Six hells, this was bad. All the creations she made were concentrated for effectiveness. That meant Gayriel had minutes to live, if she was lucky. A shot so close to the heart might reduce that time a great deal more. Lis sniffed the arrows tip, and then carefully dabbed it to her tongue. Right enough, it was Gayriel's unique scent that covered the sharpened tip, the shaft, and even the fletchings. It must have passed straight through her. But there was something else, as well, a bitter and sour note. A common poison, one of Lis' older creations from the pitcher plant that grew in the swamps around the Onyx Aerie. A poison both quick and deadly.

“Go,” she growled at him. “Stem the wound and keep as much pressure as you can between it and her heart.”

“What...,” he began.

“She will die, Lord Dragon, if you do not obey.”

Dynarys's face paled and he dashed from the room. Lis dashed, too, for her satchel, locked neatly in its own cabinet and hidden around the bend of a shelf. She kept all of her important creations close to her at all times. The medic's room had better locks than her last room had, but she was taking no chances. She remembered that someone had still snuck in there to do away with the man. She pulled the satchel out and grasped inside looking for the right phial. A tiny capsule, much like those she made for her dart launcher, but with an injection tube and a plunger.

Panic made her clumsy and it took longer than it should have, but, at last, she had it. The antidote. She hesitated at the door, realizing she had sent Dynarys away and had no idea where their apartments were. For a shaky breath, she thought such a mistake might mean the woman's death, but Cillumn pressed by her.

“This way,” he trotted ahead. Despite the severity of the situation, he appeared calm, moving fast, but not carelessly, through alleys and streets, until they reached a medium sized building. It was constructed with the same pale stone as everything else in the Aerie, and lined with fruit plants. All the way up the walls, decorative lattice allowed light into the outer walkways of the building. They ran up a set of stairs, and then another, until they reached a crowded corridor. A mess of Shifter warriors and a few women crowded into the space.

“Make way,” Cillumn snapped, physically pushing at one of the men. Lis cringed at the insult, but slid her way behind him, through the mass of bodies until she reached the woman collapsed upon the floor. Her breathing had already shallowed, her lips turning blue. Lis did not wait for farther signs of impending death, she quickly found the fading pulse at her neck and jabbed the injection tube into the artery there, pressing the plunger as fast as she dared.

Then they waited.

The world around Lis stilled. She did not know this woman, not more than a passing meeting, but she had seemed kind and thoughtful. Bent on protecting those she loved. She did not deserve such a trick. And with Lis' own creation, too.

But Lis could guess at why she had been targeted. She looked at Gayriel's mate sidelong. Dynarys. Half Dragon, half Shifter. That sort of animosity was what Lis had to look forward to for the rest of her life, not to mention any children they might have.

What she couldn't answer was who had done it. She was certain it was the same individual that took her poisons, but there was no more clue between the wound and the arrow than there had been in the room when she discovered the poisons missing in the first place.

Gayriel drew a long, ragged breath, some of the color returning to the skin around her face.

Lis had made it in time.

The wound still gushed blood, but the blackness around it receded, the antidote canceling the poison's effects as soon as the blood pumped it out to the area.

Relief poured over the crowd and the Lord before her, always firm and stoic, gathered his mate into his arms and buried his head in her neck.

A little embarrassed, Lis braced herself to rise, but something jammed into her skin, bruising. It was the Glyph. She had forgotten she still held it, with the threat of life lost.

She stared at it now, an excuse to avoid the acknowledgment of the attention turning her way. As she focused, she noticed the gem at the center, a smokey black similar to the glass of a lantern when the wick burned out.

And that, she knew suddenly, was the difference. This glyph was empty. Which would mean that the glyph the Master had used upon Adda must have been full.

Foreboding forced a deep shudder through her heart. She had a feeling that Adda was in deeper trouble than ever before, and she had no way to help her sister now.