CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12
“She is dangerous, Dynarys. Use your nose, she smells of lies and deceit. She is not what she seems.”
Illaise strode among the ferns and bracken on the side of the path, far behind where the scouts scowled at the attending Shifters, her silver hair re-bound into a tight tail. A lifetime of reading the subtle signals alerted the wolf warriors to retreat to the outskirts of the delegation, much the same as his instincts had piqued. These men had little tolerance for Shifter kind.
It was now well past the cooler part of the day, the afternoon glaring down with an oppressive heat. Given the thick humidity in the air, it felt as though a heavy invisible hand pressed down upon them. Used as he was to such discomforts, when combined with the morning's events, Dynarys was left feeling defensive and agitated.
“I am not here to discuss the lady delegate with you,” his voice was firm. It was the voice that had sent a hundred recruits scurrying to do his bidding, so, of course, it did not phase Illaise.
“You should be rid of her before she costs you more than you care to lose.”
“I cannot just get rid of someone, mother.”
Illaise sniffed. “I don't see why not. If she was disposable enough to send to a foreign aerie, she cannot mean much to the humans. No one would miss her. You might have let me take care of the problem.”
Dynarys stopped, forcing Illaise to do the same. She turned to him.
“I know that your missing pack members have gotten beneath your fur, but I will not have you threatening Gayriel. She is not disposable.”
“Gayriel? You certainly are familiar with her.”
“I am responsible for her, I...”
And there he went again, allowing his mother to goad him into an explanation she didn't need or deserve. When would he learn that such brash talk was part of her manipulative nature?
“This discussion is over, unless you want to tell me what it is you really wanted to speak about.”
There. Great Six the woman taxed his patience. She relented a little, glancing ahead to the rest of the delegation warily.
“I did want to warn you of her. You are so eager to have your dragon half accepted that you ignore your Shifter blood.” She held up a hand, acknowledging the old argument between them. “You might not be able to change to wolf, Dynarys, but your senses are still advanced, even in this form. It is to your peril that you do not take advantage of them.”
“Noted...as always. Now, was there something else? I should return to my duties before I am missed from them.”
Her upper lip pulled into a sneer, disliking one duty in particular, he imagined.
“Yes, there was something else. It's about the Quatori.”
He felt his eyebrows raise and he had to stop himself from eyeing the forest warily. It wouldn't help. The ability to sense the Quatori was one of the many things that was not passed along from his mother. It appeared that Dragons were dominate in passing along traits, which suited him fine.
“Not here,” she corrected, tapping at one of the blades at her side. She had managed to collect each one of them again. How, he didn't know. When she transformed, her clothes were destroyed just as those of the dragons. Perhaps they were scent marked for later retrieval.
“The ones that attacked the procession, that shouldn't have happened at all. I had my men all over this trail since last evening and there were no reports of Quatori nearby. They shouldn't have found us at all.”
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying, dear son, that someone led them to us. We were set up.”
“Who then?”
Illaise frowned. “I have my suspicions.”
He grunted. “It was not Gayriel, if that is what you imply. I am no fool, she has been strictly watched. There was no opportunity for her to know our path.”
“She might have seen a map, guessed at the trail.”
“I know this not to be true. But even if it were, we have taken an unexpected route, not one of the common trails, by your own suggestion, if I remember correctly. Only one who was familiar with this area would have guessed where we would be.”
She sighed, looking forward to the delegation again, her eyes narrowing on the scouts.
“Then I fear that our reception might not be as friendly as we hoped.”

Gayriel's first glimpse of the Onyx Aerie was when the delegation topped a sharp rise, a peak in the trail that would lead them into a steep valley before ascending once more. The aerie loomed above the black cliffs that rose from the forest floor on the valley's opposite side. Below it, trees and wilderness reigned. But beyond, on the cliff-top plateau, plains stretched for miles, surrounding a neat and ordered human city, before devolving back into forest in the distance.
The aerie sat at the forefront of it all, jutting out from the cliff’s edge and formed from the same black stone. Stark towers rose into the pale blue of the sky and glinted in the sunlight as they approached the cliff base.
A simple spoken suggestion that the delegation should follow were the only words the scouts had muttered. They had dressed quickly, though Gayriel had yet to discern where the stiff gray uniforms had emerged from. The delegation dressed too, pulling clothes from the trail of wagons well behind the carriage wreckage, and for the first time she noticed the scattered remains of fabric that resulted when the men changed forms. No wonder vendors loved the Dragon Lords.
The Onyx Aerie scouts struck her as different from those from the Amber Aerie. Each had deep black eyes, so dark their pupils were indistinguishable, deep brown skin, and black hair, cropped close to their heads.
She preferred the amber eyes, she decided. They were unnatural, but one could read a humanness in them that was lacking in these others. She wondered absently as they walked if all of the Onyx dragons had black eyes in the same way the Amber Aerie dragons had amber. Was eye color an indication of lineage? And what of dragon colors?
The Amber Aerie appeared to be formed from beasts of every shade, but the three scouts had been virtually identical.
The delegation split along the deeply gouged foot-trail. Gayriel and the Dragon Lords took the lead, following the first of the Onyx scouts. The Shifters fell behind, responsible for pulling along the heavy wagons, though some had taken wolf form and ranged along the trail's sides, a hint of fur, or rustle of the undergrowth marking the fact that they were still present, even if not openly visible.
Illaise had disappeared. She suspected the woman was not happy with the arrangement, or how the scouts scowled if a Shifter came near the group of Lords. A definite order was expected between the peoples here.
Not that the scouts appeared overly interested in the group at all. If they had not flown to the delegation, Gayriel might not have guessed their dragon heritage.
Other than one curiously raised eyebrow in her direction, she felt none of the passionate pressure that often accompanied the presence of the Lords, even from Dynarys...no, especially Dynarys.
Taming you properly...
She should be affronted, but Great Six, the man was tempting. It irritated her to find that a tiny part of her wondered what that would be like to belong to the man...tamed.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Ignoring the pull of lust her body betrayed her with, she focused instead on the scout that walked nearby, separate, and yet among the knot of Lords surrounding her.
Telling the scouts apart as men was easier than the dragons. This one, for instance was younger than the one up front, who had fine wrinkles and the beginning sprinkles of white peppered through his temples. If she didn’t pay attention to the darkness of his eyes, he looked nearly like one of the human nobles who had frequented her area of the city, visiting lovers, rumor told. He said very little, nothing in fact, just strode purposefully, broad muscles flexing with each step.
The only expression he showed was a frown of distaste when one of the Shifters, in wolf form, dashed through the forest at his side.
“You do not like Shifters?” Gayriel asked, changing her path so that she walked nearer the man. She plucked at her skirts. The air had heated well past a comfortable temperature and the material had begun sticking to her sweat soaked skin. It made walking difficult and awkward, and for a moment, she wished she was back in the carriage. But she had bigger things on her mind. A plan was forming in her mind and it involved being recognized within the Onyx Aerie. She needed an introduction to Celcath, by someone familiar, or at least a mention. If she was going to seduce the Dragon Lord, to get invited to his bed, he needed to be thinking of her. At the same time, she could use as much information about him, from those that knew more of him.
“They have their place,” the scout answered. He turned his head her direction. Avoiding his eyes, she focused on the high cheekbones and rough stubble that began to form along his strong jaw. The Dragon Lords certainly did not lack in appeal. “What of you? It is unusual for a human woman to venture so far from her city.”
She smiled, though inwardly she was groaning. Celcath might have no interest in human politics, but she couldn’t very well ignore anyone else that might ask about them.
“The leaders of my city send me. I am to gauge the possibility of an alliance,” she spoke confidently, but her mind raced.
The surprised blink that the scout turned on her didn’t help. Would a human city seek an alliance with a dragon aerie? Apparently, her city already had a bargain with the Amber Aerie: Women for protection.
“With your city,” she gestured toward the cliff. They had descended into a valley so that the plateau was no longer visible. “For trade,” she added quickly when his look of surprise turned to suspicious speculation.
“Ah,” he nodded at last.
She hid her relief by studying the forest and the cliff they began to incline. Visualize. She was calm.
“It is unwise of your people to risk you in such a way,” he narrowed his eyes at the Lords around her. “What have you to present that a man could not have come in your place?”
This again?
“I am perfectly capable,” she informed the scout, pulling for a tone as offended as possible. A noble woman’s tone.
“But you are not disposable. A man would be.”
“Well, so long as no one plans to dispose of me, I shall be fine,” she answered. The air of protection extended past the Amber Aerie and to the entire race, it seemed.
“The Quatori already tried. If I had known a woman traveled with the delegation...”
“Grim,” the leading scout called. The group had condensed as they began to rise up the trail that climbed the cliff. Somehow, the front scout had dropped back to where the second and Gayriel were walking. No one else was close enough to hear their conversation, even Dynarys had dropped behind somewhere. She noted that oddity for later consideration.
There was concern in the other Dragon Lord's tone, and Grim—the scout next to her—looked away, his lips pulled tight. He trotted up to where the first scout waited.
She halted politely as they spoke in low murmurs, then, without a word Grim jogged off, ahead and up the cliff.
“Grim goes ahead, to prepare your quarters Lady. I am afraid we were not expecting you,” the other scout informed her. His voice was stiff, but it was not unpleasant. “It is our hope that you find our aerie even more pleasing than your own.”
He turned, gesturing that she should follow, the remainder of the Lords crowded close once more.
She studied them quickly. Something was odd about the scout’s interactions and part of her hoped that Dynarys had crept close enough to see it for himself.
Several Dragon Lords approached, but Dynarys was not among them. She tried not to feel abandoned.
It didn’t matter, not really. What she was to do rested on her alone. It was time to begin her end of the bargain.
It got even warmer as they ascended up the cliff-side path. By the time they had climbed a quarter of the distance, sweat trickled down her spine and pooled at her lower back.
The dress would be stained and, not for the first time, she was glad to have a simple set of brown travel skirts and not some lacy, delicate material against her skin.
The forest shrunk below them, only the tallest of the trees reaching for their current height. With the receding of vegetation, a new scent invaded the air, a dry, dusty smell, with the remnants of something bitter and burnt.
The steepness of the incline pressed the group into a tighter formation, until six Lords surrounded her, the scout just ahead of them. Somewhere behind, likely around the last sharp bend, the group of Shifters, which she numbered at seventeen, followed.
She turned back to survey the path once more. Had Dynarys left to travel among them? He still hadn’t returned. It shouldn't matter, but she had begun to see him as her ally, and with her suspicions on the rest of the delegation, she would be more comfortable with him nearby.
In his absence, Cillumn had taken it upon himself to walk next to her, even where the path hardly allowed for it. His gaze sharpened on the scout, and then scanned the surrounding forest, With a wariness that reminded her that she was not the only one concerned about their situation.
She stilled the rushing of her mind as they approached the gate. She needed focus here, more than ever before; it would be to her detriment to allow for distraction.
The aerie gates were a set of monstrous iron bars, placed precisely a hand’s width apart. Too near for even the most slender of man to get in...or out…easily. Held in place with equally massive hinges, they swung smoothly and silently inward as the delegation approached. A grand sweeping motion, revealing an impressive display of power within.
Lines of servants, dressed in ever darkening shades of gray silks, awaited their arrival. As the first of the Lords stepped through, each servant made a deep bow, lowering themselves to the ground, creating a wave of deepening color. The sight stilled her breath for a moment. Hundreds of servants went into the display, if not thousands. At the end of the wave, in the darkest of the gray uniforms, several rows of warriors stood at attention. Each was holding forth a heavy black blade. They brimmed with energy and power, their eyes somehow glowing and black at once, but no wings sprouted from the backs of these Lords, not a hint of the beast within.
“Great Six save me from the conceit,” Cillumn muttered next to her.
She raised an eyebrow at him. Was he not impressed?
“The discipline it takes to hold the beast that close to the surface is impressive,” he answered as though reading her thoughts, “but it is also stupid. The dragon tends to get...furious when it is played with that way. And the servants, thousands of them presented for the twenty-four of us on the delegation? No, Celcath is flexing his power, it is more of a threat than a welcome.” He studied the bowing forms as they took the first step among the rows of them. “Not one of these is a Shifter. What have they done with their wolves?”
The scout, Grim, met them at the end of the display, nodding in respect when the Lords came to a halt.
Murmuring rippled through the crowd behind them. An unhappy murmuring.
She turned, concerned because they had already advanced so far into the aerie. If the servants and rows of Dragon Lords chose to become hostile, they would be trapped and easily defeated. She prayed to the Six that the Archon of the Amber Aerie was smart enough not to send his people off to die. But then, he wouldn’t be the first in history to experience a betrayal.
The muttering, though, turned out not to be against them. Or rather, not against most of them.
Just as the servants had bowed and submitted before the dragons as they entered, they rose and turned, facing their backs toward the rest of the delegation when it appeared. The Shifters.
Even Gayriel understood that insult.
Illaise snarled openly. Dynarys stood at her side, blinking as if he had been caught there unexpectedly. His face held a shade of alarm Gayriel was certain was echoed on her own.
Then the lines of warriors moved, swords before them. Stepping past the Dragon Lords, who hardly had time to react, and toward the Shifters. The gesture threatening.
At once, Dynarys shifted, his dragon burst forth, providing a line of protection for the Shifters of the delegation. The beast bared long white teeth, a growl building in its chest. His scales rippled, flashing a wave of light along his muscular body, his own display of power.
“I believe we were invited not challenged,” Cillumn growled at Grim. Amber flashed in his gaze, a warning that he would fight, should it come to it. The other Lords of the delegation tensed, as well; only Pourtus still looked relaxed, his eyes watching the happenings with interest. None went so far as to transform as Dynarys had.
She supposed he had more reason than the others to be protective. For a moment, she admired his strength. The tension between the two people was palpable, yet he stood for those who, at the moment, were overpowered. Would he do the same, she wondered, if the positions were reversed?
She believed he would, and something about that made her reconsider everything for a moment.
“Dragon Lords were invited, not your dogs. They may stay on the outskirts of the aerie, where they belong,” Grim raised an imperious brow.
Dynarys’s long black tail flicked and his amber eyes narrowed. Even the dragon was offended.
Illaise, however, seemed to have gotten a hold of herself.
“It is alright, Firestriker,” she announced, the use of his formal name obvious, though Gayriel did not understand the implications. “We will make do on the aerie’s outskirts.”
They shared a significant look, before the woman turned gracefully and left the aerie. showing her back to the armed warriors. The remaining Shifters gathered themselves and followed.
Cillumn pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose. “What have we got ourselves into?”