CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14
“It is the will of Valarius. We were once a great race, destined for ascension to the realm of order. Now, we pander to those lesser than us. Every concession we make weakens our stature, draws us closer to the underworlds.”
Dynarys resisted the urge to rub his temples. This was the third of the Lord's negotiations, and Celcath had been speaking for quite some time, spewing the same nonsense in different forms. In his fanatical view, he had eschewed all the Gods besides one and strove to ascend to the first realm.
In short, it was ridiculous, and spoke to a possible instability in the man's mind. The representatives of the Amber Aerie had not been given a chance to speak, nor had any offers of peace, tentative or otherwise, been laid out.
The Lords of the Onyx Aerie sat upon their side of the great table, seemingly listening intently. All except Grim, the one Lord he might recognize, who had skipped all of the negotiations. The rest did not appear alarmed at the proceedings, which was surprising really. Did none of them fear the implications of Celcath's words?
Worse, Celcath had mentioned, several times, a cleansing, one hinted at in the old religious texts.
Dynarys did not know exactly what it entailed, he had never taken an interest in the Gods, or worship. However, Celcath's words were disturbing, nonetheless. A cleansing of the people, a quest for the pure in mind and form.
An ominous assertion. For there were none who were 'pure.' And none worthy of deciding what exactly 'purity' meant, either.
“I urge you, brothers of the Amber Aerie. Cast out the dogs from your dwellings, let them fend for themselves. Reclaim your greatness.”
It was one of many such 'urgings' Celcath had made. It seemed they had been commanded to attend a long winded sermon, rather than actual negotiations. And even though he had been admitted with courtesy, it was obvious some of the digs about purity were meant for him. It was not the first time he had received such prejudice in his life, simply for the sake of his blood.
Oddly, however, Celcath had not once mentioned the orb, a tool Dynarys would have expected Celcath to gladly expound, if only to encourage compliance. If the legends were true and they were powerful religious relics, it seemed that such a man might brag about possessing one, if only to show his own power and certainty of position.
An uneasy feeling grew within him. He had hoped to gather information for Gayriel, something that might help her in her task. Yet even now, the thought of her supplicating...seducing this man drove spikes of fury into his spine. Celcath was not a soft minded Lord, despite his fanaticism. Even with the greatest of care, Dynarys feared he would see through her attempts, that he would harm her in some way.
The beast within him stirred at the thought, and he had to fight to keep his eyes from flaring and drawing attention to himself. A slave had seemed like such a good idea; a woman, something Celcath would never expect to be used as a tool to outmaneuver him. Now, it was starting to feel ridiculous.
The display for their arrival was solid evidence that the man could not be moved to passion with physical attraction. And when the Archon was not preaching at one of these negotiations, he hid himself away and kept the delegation safely sequestered in their own apartments. There was no room for interactions between the Lords at all, and definitely not with the Archon.
And that presented its own problem; one he didn't yet know how to solve.
Carefully hiding his frustration behind a polite mask, he turned his attention back to Celcath.
The only thing he could do was to buy time.

Gayriel paused the pacing of her apartment to peer out at the sunlit courtyard. She was alone once more. Well, sort of alone. The servants Celcath had provided stood about out there, silently waiting for orders.
Spies, the lot of them.
And keeping up the constant pretense of delegate-like behavior was driving her mad.
Being recognized by Celcath was not as easy as she had hoped. The Lords of the delegation shared meals in the courtyard of the apartments; somber, unhappy affairs. Even Strale’s mood seemed diminished and wary. Not once had he taken advantage of the servants, or even made an offer toward her.
Dynarys simply brooded. She sensed that he wished to leave, that the delegation was not what he had planned, but he waited.
Likely to give her a chance to work. Yet here she was, still regulated to the walled off section of the aerie.
The majority of the last two days were taken up by meetings of the Lords, to which she was not invited. That left her with a lot of time to think about the situation and she had come to the conclusion that her task was impossible.
Celcath was, so far as she could discern, disinterested in seduction. The servants were not forthcoming, either. She had discovered they would speak to her of mundane matters, such as whether she wished her hair up or down for the day, but if she mentioned the Archon their mouths closed with a nearly audible snap and they skittled away faster than she could react.
She did know the Archon did not have a mate, thanks to Dynarys. But if he sought one, he did so with his furniture slaves. He most certainly did not wish to interact with her, despite her messages that requested a meeting. She had even developed a speech, about lace of all things. Some nonsense about the fine quality and the cities working together to better serve the Dragon Lord’s tastes. It should sufficiently bore the man and give him plenty of time to notice her...non-bargaining attributes.
Unfortunately, her request had been denied by his second in command. Repeatedly. And after the third attempt the servants had refused to carry any farther messages for her. So much for recognition.
She was getting desperate. She sensed the Lord’s meetings were not proceeding well. Any moment, they might choose to be finished with the Onyx Aerie and return to their own. And she would lose her chance at freedom.
Political upheaval or not, the bargain was the orb for her freedom, and she planned to deliver.
The insistence that she would need to seduce her way into Celcath’s chambers did her little good. It was time for a change of strategy, so she paced, plotting.
She would need two things. First, a very thorough tour of the aerie. She had spent years at the choosing house practicing her observation skills and committing small details to memory. She hoped to apply that skill now. A firm, working knowledge of the buildings, roads, and alleys of this aerie was essential to her plan.
The second thing she would need was the cover of darkness...and a way to avoid the Amber Aerie Lords for long enough to sneak out and commit to her task. But she would worry about that later. For now, she needed an idea of the location of Celcath’s chambers.
What would happen, she wondered, if she were to appear at his door? Would he be flattered and invite her in? Was it worth the chance that he wouldn’t?
Sharp rapping upon wood halted her conjecture. That would be her guide. Anticipation filled her. Finally, she might take action for herself. No more being dragged to and from situations where she had little control.
Until she opened the door.
It was not a meek, passive servant who waited without, but Grim, the Dragon Lord.
He shuffled slightly and bowed his head respectfully. “You have asked for a guide,” he intoned.
Gayriel stopped herself from frowning, and smiled politely, instead.
“I assumed such a task would involve a servant, or some other whose time was not so valuable,” she explained.
Grim grunted an acknowledgment, but said nothing more for a moment.
She debated. The fearful human men and women that were servants at the aerie intimidated her far less. She imagined she might fool them into compliance, or confusion, if she asked to see enough of the aerie. She wished for them to forget the areas she truly sought to memorize.
But a Dragon Lord? And particularly this Dragon Lord? She was not certain she would fool him. Already, he watched her like he had formed suspicions about her intentions.
“I would take you to our city, should you wish,” he told her.
Huh?
Her look of confusion must have shown.
“You said that was your reason for attending the delegation, to arrange a trade agreement with the leaders of our city?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she struggled for words. “I just...I was hoping to seek permission from your Archon...but he will not see me.” There. Not only did that explain her hesitation, but there was a small chance it might lead to the meeting with the Archon that she had given up on.
“Permission is granted,” Grim sent her a winning smile. “But perhaps you need to first alert a lover? The delegation will not take kindly if I remove you without warning one who has claim.”
This time she did frown. “None have claim on me.”
Grim straightened. “Good,” he smiled again and offered his arm. “Come, I will aid you in your task.”
She had little choice. She couldn’t very well refuse the offer without giving away her lie.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
Grim was handsome, yet she had to still a wave of discomfort when she took his arm. She hid the emotion quickly behind her barrier. Dynarys said that it was effective, and she prayed he was right. She played a dangerous game now, and she was on her own.
“Tell me, what do you think of our aerie?” Grim asked as they made their way past the wall that separated the apartments and into the main courtyard. The gates loomed ahead, guarded by more men in gray uniforms.
“It is very beautiful, and...ordered,” she nodded to the perfect precision in which the guards stepped forward to open the gates.
Grim snorted.
“Yes, the Archon believes that order creates peace and obedience. And that the Dragon Lords will thrive if we are to let go of our slovenly ways.”
The corner of her lip turned up at the trace of the man’s dry humor. “You do not believe this?”
He shrugged. “It has worked so far. As you can see, the aerie manages very well, both financially and in its defense. We are not lacking in comforts, either, though the Archon discourages too many.”
“He didn’t feel that way when he prepared our greeting,” Gayriel noted.
Grim tilted his head at her. “The usage of your people upsets you?”
She frowned.
He sighed. “They come to us voluntarily, Lady Delegate. The position of our city is, unfortunately, less secure than that of your own. The Quatori, at times, break through the defending gates we have placed. Most of the servants here are looking for a peace they cannot find within the city walls.”
“They choose to be displayed as statues and offered to guests?”
Grim cringed a little. “They wished to become Dragon Mates. Being offered to the Amber delegation is not against that wish.”
“Hmm,” was all that she could say. Grim gestured past the gates to the wide stone road that led from the aerie. The delegation had climbed a dirt footpath to rise up the cliff, but this road pushed straight toward the city. It was flat and well maintained.
“It is but an hour's walk, I thought I might give you a tour of the various crops the humans grow on the way. What was it that you said you wished to trade?”
“Lace, for the most part. Among other textiles.”
“...lace?”
“Yes, my people are distinctly short of lace for garments. We have to import from a city far to the west,” she told him, copying what the old vendor had said in order to sell her...or rather Dynarys, the green gown. She could see he was finding her story slightly unbelievable; she decided to distract him.
“If your city struggles with Quatori attacks, then why send away the Shifters?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. The open expression on his face slammed shut.
Uh-oh.
“Please, I mean no offense. I don’t have a great understanding of the interactions between the peoples.”
He studied her for a moment. Perhaps he didn’t believe her lack of knowledge.
“I wasn’t supposed to be on this delegation, I am replacing someone who fell ill,” she lied.
His face softened, and he shook his head a little.
“It always surprises me how foolish human leaders can be,” he turned to her. “Very well, a straight answer to your question then. What if I were to tell you that those Shifters on which your aerie, and therefore your people, rely so heavily on, not only interacted with the Quatori regularly, but made agreements with them?”
She blinked.
“Are the Quatori capable of making agreements?”
“Most definitely, it is how they came to exist in this forest to begin with. An agreement with the humans of ancient times, one the humans used to destroy my people, but then found turned sour upon themselves when there was no longer enough dragon blood to satisfy the Quatori’s thirst.”
Hmm. Cillumn had suggested something like that at the greeting, though she had been paying too much attention to the human statues to pay much heed.
“Yet you still guard the human city.”
“What else are we to do? Our mothers are human, as are any mate we wish to take. We endeavor to prevent the mistakes of the past from repeating and we have done so here. When it was discovered that the Shifters were verging on an alliance with the vile demons, we removed them.”
“But how? Don’t you need them to battle the Quatori?”
“And risk a betrayal at a critical juncture? No, there are other effective methods for detecting the Quatori.”
She raised her brows, but he said no more. Instead, he broke into an explanation of the various crops grown only on the plateau and their benefits.
The visit to the city went incredibly smoothly. Grim introduced Gayriel to the city’s lead traders and she found them suspiciously compliant and eager to acquiesce to her false proposal. Thrice she caught the merchant looking to Grim for direction, and she came to the conclusion that he had organized everything in her favor, and that the merchants were less interested in lace than they were in the Dragon Lord’s approval.
They stopped at a vendor of sweet meats and stuffed breads, and Grim bought her several selections that showcased the crops he had described earlier.
They were tasty and, had she truly been a delegate, the entire day would have been touted as a success. But she couldn’t help but wonder why he had gone through so much trouble to make her path smooth. She got an answer as they left the food vendor.
“Have you ever considered becoming a Dragon’s mate, Lady Delegate?”
She choked on her seasoned bread.
“I’ll take that as a no. None of the Amber Aerie dragons even tempted you?”
Her thoughts flew to Dynarys, but she blocked them immediately.
“I do not enjoy being controlled, or displayed,” she told him, remembering the feminine statues.
He shook his head. “Not all potential mates are happy with such an arrangement. Some are simply more desperate than others to catch a Lord’s eye.” He studied her, and his eyes traveled along her body. “But not all Lords are tempted by such desperation.”
“It still stands that I do not wish to be controlled.”
“Not even when it only relates to your safety? A Dragon’s mate is often provided with whatever she desires, so long as there is no danger to herself. You would certainly have more freedom, and safety, than your current position as delegate provides.”
She hesitated. Hadn’t she been considering that very thing, late at night, alone in her bed?
But not with Grim.
“I can see that you are undecided,” Grim reached a hand over and brushed her arm. Very firmly she forced herself to withstand his touch, she kept her face neutral, pleasant even. “I will give you a chance to consider such an offer.”
“Is it not your Dragon that decides such things?” she questioned. Pointing out the obvious flaw in his suggestion. He wanted sex, but he could not promise to make her a mate. Not without his Dragon’s consent.
“I am a strong man, Lady Delegate. I don’t plan to give the beast a choice.”
She brooded the entire way back to the aerie. She did not like Grim, and his suggestion that he might force the beast to accept her as a mate did not help her impression. She sensed he strove for a level of control that was nearly impossible to achieve, and everything she had seen of him supported that theory. What would it be like, to be mated to one such as him?
Not enjoyable, she was certain. A similar fate to that she faced if she had been purchased by Lord Hreth.
Thoughts of such situations fled her mind as soon as they entered the gates once more. Dusk dimmed the eastern horizon and the torches and lanterns around the main courtyard were lit, highlighting a stalking figure, blade out, storming toward them.
Dynarys.
Relief flashed across his face unchecked, before determination set his features in a scowl.
“Where have you been Lady?” he gritted when he neared.
“I have taken my Lady to tend to her mission and meet with the traders of our city,” Grim answered for her. He stepped closer.
Dynarys hefted his blade thoughtfully in his hand. “You did not think to ask permission from those responsible for the Lady. From her protectors?”
Grim’s head tilted and a trace of a sneer graced his lips. “She claimed none as protector. It is not my business if she finds none of the Amber Aerie worthy of that title.”
“Claimed or not she is protected. And I will see to her care from here. You have been summoned by your Archon.”
Grim stared at Dynarys for a moment, but apparently decided a summons was not something he would take the risk of ignoring.
“Recall our discussion lady,” he told her softly before striding off into the distance.
“Come Lady, let us see to your care.”
Dynarys's grip was firm, almost bruising, as he propelled her toward the apartments.
“Must you tempt fate in every way?” he demanded as they walked. “Can you not stay safe even when I am called away from you?”
“I was in no danger,” she protested.
“Not so,” he growled. “Cillumn was set to watch you, and though he tried to prevent your leaving, could not. He has not returned, for reasons that smack of foul play. Yet you saunter in as if you’ve enjoyed a day of leisure.”
She cringed, and then straightened. How was she to know she was being watched? It would be a lot easier to discern the proper course of action if he would just share such information with her.
She told him as much, but he only grunted, nodding to a surprised Pourtus as he pushed her through the door of her suite.
The door clicked closed and he was upon her, pressing her into the wall. Heat burned against her skin, all the way down.
She gasped, surprised at his speed.
Dynarys took advantage and plunged his mouth against hers, possessing, demanding that she yield. His lips firm against hers, he inhaled a sharp breath. His tongue darted out, diving between her teeth, and then retreating and trailing along her lower lip
His arms had framed her head with the onslaught, and now his right arm sunk lower.
Heat pooled along her spine and into her core. It muddled her thoughts. She forgot, instantly, that she did not want this.
She did want this. Great Six did she.
Her longing burned and she strained against him. Moisture grew between her legs, seeping onto her upper thighs. It burned there, in that secret spot, though Dynarys had yet to brush against it.
His hand trailed over the side of her breast, every inch of her skin tingled with anticipation.
Then he broke the kiss. He stepped back and cold air replaced where he had been. He had removed one of his weapon belts while she had been distracted, and now, with quick movements he bound her wrists.
“Hey!” she protested. What in hells was he doing? She thought he was seducing her, now...
He raised her bound arms and worked the leather over a bar jutting out from the wall, intended to hold a lantern, but it held her well enough.
The look on his face was dark and foreboding. He backed from her and paced the small apartment, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
She found she had to stand on her toes to reduce the strain on her shoulders.
“What...?”
Dynarys pinned her with a glare. “Unless you are a glutton for punishment, woman, I would keep that succulent mouth of yours closed.”
She swallowed hard. What she had done wrong, she was not certain, but Dynarys was furious.
Finally, after pacing for several moments he approached.
“Never,” he growled. “Never again without my permission.”
She blinked. Never what? Leave? Move? Just what was he demanding?
“Never anything, Gayriel,” he stated, reading her confusion. “I own you.”
She managed to shake her head. No one owned her, and as soon as she found the orb she would prove it.
“You don’t think so?” he asked. “What of this?”
Without mercy, he dragged his knuckles along her raised breast, pressing firmly on her nipple which pearled even before his touch. It hurt, but it was a good...amazing type of pain. Her head lolled backward and her eyes rolled up.
“Or this,” slowly he trailed a single finger along her ribcage and toward the waistband of her skirt. Her body betrayed her long before he slid inside, working his way down to the soft curls that guarded her most intimate place.
No one had ever touched her there. Not in all her years. And she knew what he would find.
A masculine growl of satisfaction rumbled from his lips when his fingers reached their target. He brushed his hand against her, spiking pleasure. Once, twice...and then he removed it.
“I own you, Gayriel,” he intoned. “As a man owns a woman. You are bound by your desire. Never again deny me as your protector. From now on, you will look to me in all things, especially interaction with the Lords.”
He pressed close to her and thoughts of denial fled from her mind at once. She couldn’t think, much less form coherent words.
“Or I will prove to you how deep my control of you runs. Do you understand?”
She nodded, in that moment willing to do anything to please him, to regain his touch, to relieve the pressure he had built with just a few strokes.
He leaned toward her, his lips a fraction from hers.
She strained against her bindings, fighting to reach him, but it was no use. He stood there a moment, his eyes burning amber. And then, in a breath, she was released. She crumbled to the floor, unable to support her own weight. The click of the door signaled Dynarys's exit.
It would be a long while before she recovered enough to rise.