CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 13
Grim led them along a barren, but clean street, to a set of buildings sectioned off by its own wall.
Gayriel studied it with foreboding. It was not as though walls could hold a Dragon Lord, but the placement of them concerned her nonetheless. This aerie was starting to feel a lot like the choosing house: perfection, but all for show, and hiding something far more unsavory beneath.
She glanced toward Grim, who strode ahead. Her estimation of his appeal had fallen dramatically with that last display. Granted, she had no great love for some of the Shifters, but Scet had saved her life at least once, when Kurath’s pack attacked. And they were integral in defeating the Quatori. She had spent a long time thinking, while they rose along the cliff-face, and she noticed that the dragons did not attack the invisible prey until the wolves had marked it, or surrounded it, or whatever. It lead her to the conclusion that Shifters could somehow sense the Quatori, but did not have the strength to battle them, and the Dragon Lords couldn’t sense the Quatori at all.
A partnership. And a necessary one.
So what had the Onyx Aerie Lords done with their Shifters? Surely they did not stand for such treatment as the Shifters of the delegation were receiving.
A light brush of heat against her lower back stilled her speculation for the moment. Dynarys had joined her. Naked. She struggled to pull her eyes to an acceptable target. Such perfection.
With a great deal of difficulty, she raised her gaze to his face.
He was frowning deeply and staring ahead toward Grim.
The touch of his hand was an absent fiddling, like one might twist their skirts or bite their nails. It lit small fires within her that quickly spread and obliterated all thought.
That would not do. Not there. But she could not bring herself to pull away. Instead, she placed distance between them mentally, using her visualization.
Something about the change drew Dynarys’s attention. He blinked at her.
“How did you learn that so effectively?”
“Learn what, exactly?”
“To block your emotions? I cannot read you at all. I’ve never met a woman able to do so, not to such a degree. Yet you have learned without instruction.”
She shrugged. “I extrapolated from what you explained to me of lying.”
“Huh,” he grunted, looking back to Grim. “A good thing, perhaps, I feel you will need such defenses.”

Celcath was a dark skinned man. He sat upon a throne at the end of a long black and gold carpet, wide enough to allow the Lords of the delegation to walk side by side, should they wish.
They had been led to the guest apartments: separate rooms, each with its own entrance that opened to a joint outdoor courtyard, with benches and a magnificent fountain. Then they had been instructed to do as they would until the Archon summoned them in the evening. Servants had arrived shortly after and begun the long task of dressing her hair and applying enhancing powders to her face. They did not speak to her as they worked, even when asked direct questions. By the time she was dressed in the green lace and silk that Tharissa had chosen, she was entirely uncomfortable and ready for them to leave.
The Archon’s fingers twitched as the delegation approached, but that was all that she noticed of him. Her attention was on the room. It differed from the audience room where they had met the Amber Aerie Archon. Here, everything was perfectly ordered. The walls themselves had been carved with murals, inset, in places, with precious stones and jewels. Floor length windows interrupted the scenes, colored with stained glass denoting a strange, swirling pattern of white and gold. Tables sat beneath each, piled high with rich artifacts, each one of which could likely buy her the new life the Amber Aerie Archon had promised. Incense burned in the midst of each display, filling the air with an overpowering sweet scent that clung to the inside of her nostrils and left her feeling slightly suffocated. Yet the riches and the press of Dragon Lords she did not recognize only barely registered to her awareness. What really stood out was the women. Naked women.
At first, she assumed they were statues. They were perfectly still and covered in a black, shiny paint that hid nothing. Only a blinking eye showed the truth.
The Onyx Aerie Lords stood among them, ignoring their presence. No proof that the sight moved them in any way, either to lust or pity. Each wore the gray uniform from the greeting display, and though their eyes did not glow, they stood at ready. She did note that the Lord’s features and colors were varied, which answered her earlier question.
Her gaze caught on the woman...or women next to Celcath. They were arranged as if in the throes of passion, heads back, breasts thrust out, and then placed next to the throne on their knees. In their position, they looked almost like armrests.
Distaste filled her immediately.
Celcath stood as the delegation neared the foot of his dais. Muscles rippled beneath the soft black shirt. His black hair was shaved close to his head and no hint of stubble graced his firm, sculpted cheeks. Full lips twisted down when the Amber Aerie Lords came to a halt before him. His black eyes flitted over faces and profiles, lingering for a moment on Dynarys, at the delegation’s head, and then Strale, who had dressed himself in a white so bright that it shone out in the somber hall, vividly drawing one’s eye and attention.
He didn’t even look at Gayriel, just glossed over her like the rest of the delegation, considered too uninteresting for his attention. She looked down. The green lace was provocative, and yet professional. Just a little less skin showed than in the dress she had worn to the banquet a few nights before. But when one was so inundated with the naked female body, she supposed a woman with a little skin showing was hardly something to look at.
The statuesque women were beautiful, too, and human. She wondered if this was the consequence of those who chose to visit from the plateau city. And if so, then why did they come? Was the possibility of landing a dragon for a mate worth the degradation? Some of the positions the women froze in were worse than anything she had been asked to do when preparing to be a sex slave.
“Welcome, delegation of the Amber Aerie,” Celcath boomed. His voice was rich and dark, with sharp edges like a well-honed blade. As he stood, he brushed dark fingers over the exposed neck of the woman on his right. A trail of shimmering black paint lifted at his touch, exposing her ivory skin beneath. She did not move, not even her breath, so far as Gayriel could tell. And he did not look to her.
“By the will of Valarius, our people have been brought together, and together let us celebrate the proud history of our great race. Let us come together as friends, but leave as brothers, with the same mind and a happy truce as our ancestors once shared. It is our greatest desire to foster peace between our aeries, to reforge alliances that should never have been broken, and to restore order to this sinful world. For tonight we hope that you find the Onyx Aerie to your liking, and that you will share in our abundance.” He waved his arm to the chamber in general. “Please, help yourself to anything of mine that you see and wish to enjoy.”
Gayriel narrowed her eyes, her distaste growing. He offered the women to the delegation. But what right did he have to do so? Was it possible that they were all slaves like herself?
Grim, she noticed, stood to the side of the dais. He at least looked her direction. But if he was alarmed at the display of the women, or the Archon offering them like items on a bargaining table, he did not show it.
“I only ask that you follow a few simple rules, for the peace of both of our peoples. The first being that, when you are not summoned, you remain in the areas provided for your comfort. If you wish to explore, a guide will be provided. The second is that you do not transform within the walls of this aerie. The last,” he paused, straightening himself to his full height; it was an intimidating sight. “Is that you send your dogs home, for they and their kind are not welcome here.”
Gayriel scowled. What he asked was impossible. If she was right and the Shifters played an important role in sensing the presence of the Quatori, sending them home put the Dragon Lords at a distinct disadvantage, or at least the Dragon Lords from the Amber Aerie.
Indeed, the Amber Aerie Lords bristled.
“You must see that your demands are unreasonable,” Dynarys began.
“On the contrary,” Celcath growled.
She flinched back at the sound, but Dynarys held his ground. His eyes narrowed at the Archon. The Amber Aerie dragons were backed into a corner, she could see. Should they refuse to comply, the action may be taken as offensive and war might begin, starting with the slaughter of the delegation. But should they send the Shifters away, then the Lords became dependent on the Onyx Aerie dragons and whatever they used for protection against the Quatori.
“You are well served within the walls of this aerie. Protected. Safe. With no need for lesser breeds of men who only cause trouble,” the echo of the Archon’s voice rang through the hall. He was not making an argument, but a proclamation.
“What have you done with your Shifters, Celcath?” Dynarys questioned. He did not seem intimidated at all by the man, which was admirable. Gayriel was intimidated. Very intimidated.
“I have done nothing that they did not wish. They longed for independence, so I gave it to them. They wish for a return to the old ways,” Celcath gestured to the hall once more. “As you can see, I am not opposed to this. Dragon Lords were once Gods among the races. I would return to glory.”
“That glory got our race hunted to near extinction. It is what forced the creation of the Quatori to begin with. What will you do when the humans rise up against you once more?” Cillumn demanded, stepping forward to stand next to Dynarys. His eyes had narrowed, a fist clenched at his side, his knuckles white. Dynarys sent him a brief warning glance.
“Let them try,” Celcath grinned darkly, an expression Gayriel tried not to find alarming. She didn't succeed; there was something in that gaze that lingered on the edge of sanity.
“It is a simple request, friends. Without the Shifters, you are not regulated to ground travel; you can easily fly back to your aerie. They are not needed. Unnecessary.”
“The alliance has been in place for a thousand years,” Dynarys hedged. The conversation had to be striking on sore points; he was half Shifter, after all. Gayriel had a feeling the fact was not unknown, either. Would he be asked to leave, as well? That would certainly put her in an uncomfortable position.
“And it is time for change. This is the reason I have summoned your delegation. There are too few of our kind for us to stand divided. I offer a new alliance, and I will meet with the Lords tomorrow to discuss the terms.”
And with that, he gestured that the delegation was dismissed. Gayriel was not the only one surprised at the brevity. The Dragon Lords around her twitched.
How was that any type of greeting? It was far more of a list of rules and a few threats than anything else. A new alliance. She might not have come from the highest echelons of the city, but even she knew a man bent on the path of war. But then, perhaps the Archon of the Amber Aerie was no different. He had, after all, sent her.
She frowned. Celcath was a man in control. He thrived on it, and compliance. She could see it by the arrangement of both the women and the Lords in the room. How was one to seduce a man so bent on obedience that he sent her away? She did not miss that the meeting tomorrow was for the Dragon Lords only.
It would not surprise her if Celcath had no interest in inviting her to any other meeting during their stay, which was a problem. She could not even attempt to charm him if they never interacted. And to show up regardless of his instruction might bring out anger instead of the interest she wished to garner.
She needed to do something, she thought, as the delegation turned and wandered its way back down the carpet they had so recently come up. Strale stopped to fondle a slight blond frozen in a lustful position, her chest thrust outward and her hands touching the light curls between her legs.
If she was to seduce Celcath, she needed a direct interaction with the man. Something not disobedient, but out of place. She needed to be recognized.