Chapter 17

Dusk darkened the sky when they left the tower, the stones of the aerie happily blending into the shadows, a sight more forbidding than welcoming or protective.

She tried not to let Pourtus's words bother her. She had a valid reason for her behavior. She was certain Dynarys would see that. Really she was.

Except that nervous flutter in her stomach that kept recalling his words. I will prove to you how deep my control of you runs. Her mind dove off in that direction as they walked, sending electric tingles of awareness through her body.

She cursed at herself. Now was not the time to fantasize, it was not a benign message she was to deliver. Lives, her life even, rested in the balance.

A cold breeze wafted around the buildings and rose goosebumps on her skin. Not just dusk darkened the sky, but black clouds that promised to obscure the moon and stars, as well, which would make climbing more difficult, if she were to still go through with her plan.

The young woman had escaped, back to her duties no doubt, leaving Pourtus to guide Gayriel back to the guest apartments. He did not speak further, but she noted when his attention turned away from her.

The wall that separated the delegation from the aerie came into view and so did the many guards placed at the gate. Onyx Aerie guards, with stern postures and blades exposed. They had not been present when she had left for the tour, so what had changed?

They did not speak, as Gayriel and Pourtus approached. Instinct warned her to slow, to hesitate; here were eight men that looked as though they could skewer her in a heartbeat, and might do so. If Pourtus was intimidated, he did not show it. He continued walking as though nothing more threatening than daisies lined the path.

The guards did not waver as they passed; she tensed anyway, the progress was clear. If they had ever been honored guests, they were no more, and she did not like the direction things were headed.

The Amber Aerie Lords filled the small courtyard, all were present, except Cillumn. And they did not look happy.

Dynarys stood at the center of the group, speaking softly and sending gauging looks toward the gate where the guards had appeared.

“What have I missed?” Pourtus demanded, abandoning Gayriel at the courtyard's edge and pushing into the group.

The eyes of the Amber Lords turned to Dynarys.

“Cillumn is dead,” he announced.

Gayriel's breath caught. Somehow, she had not expected that outcome. The Dragon Lords seemed so untouchable to her.

“I found a clearing in the forest to the north, damaged in battle, with enough of Cillumn's blood to prove his demise. Nothing else remains of him.”

She was on the outskirts of the group, and though the words were even and factual, she sensed a deeper emotion hidden beneath them. Dynarys cared, but here, he didn't wish to show his distress. Why?

And what was Cillumn doing in the forest far to the north? If he had been trailing her, as was supposed, he would have been nowhere near the forest. Grim had led her through crops along the flat plateau.

A feeling a dread grew within her. This news, coupled with Scet's message, spelled disaster. But she couldn't impart the message here, for Dynarys's ears alone, because Scet suspected the delegation was not true. How would any of them commit such a crime against his own people?

“What of our new friends?” she asked, jerking her head toward the gate.

Dynarys looked up, frowning, but it was Strale who spoke.

“The Archon insists we carry the spirit of evil with us. Our new friends, ostensibly, are to keep the spirit away from him.”

“He's mad,” one of the other men, an older Lord with whitened hair growled, earning a silencing glare from Dynarys.

“The delegation is obviously broken, we must flee the Onyx Aerie before Cillumn's fate meets us all,” Krashac spoke. Gayriel studied him; his swift choppy movements suggested agitation. He had been mostly silent during the journey to the Onyx Aerie, and she knew little about him. Suddenly, her suspicion was upon everyone.

“We cannot,” Dynarys sighed heavily.

“Why not?” Krashac demanded.

“The Archon has forbidden us to transform within the aerie, and now he has forbidden us to leave these walls,” Dynarys gestured to the sectioned off apartments, “until he discovers who carries the spirit of evil. He insists that someone of our delegation has had communication with the Quatori.”

Strale snorted. “As if we would risk such. If the Quatori did not kill us, our own kind would. No one wants to suffer the death consequenced to such a traitor.”

“Yet some have in the past. We cannot be so arrogant to think that one would not do so now,” the white-haired Lord announced. “The Quatori did attack the convoy, directly. We were moving fast enough we should have avoided such occurrences, unless someone lured them to our location.”

“Not only that, but when Celcath demanded our compliance, he revealed that he has a vast amount of information on our actions and whereabouts, including our conversations. More than he should, given his resources,” Dynarys revealed.

“A spy? In our midst?” Strale grunted. The Lords looked from one to another, eyes narrowed.

“Our beautiful Lady Delegate might be able to fill some of the gaps. Or are you so committed to mating within the Onyx Aerie that you belong on the other side of this wall Lady?”

The Lords turned to Gayriel and she fought valiantly not to cringe. She knew things were not going to look well for her, but that didn't stop the overwhelming feeling of unfairness she struggled with. They looked at her now, even Dynarys, who had stiffened, a muscle jumping in his tight jaw, because she had lied for them, to hide Scet.

“Did you know, Lord Firestriker, that your charge is practically mated to Celcath's general? No? I can see that you were not aware of such an arrangement. Deny it if you will, Lady,” he turned to her.

What choice did she have? She could not deny her intents without revealing what she shouldn't. She wasn't sure what else she might do.

“I do not deny it,” she announced, going for the truth and hoping that Dynarys might see through the layers of lies. “Grim has offered me a position as his mate and I have agreed to consider it.”

“Agreed to it is more likely. They had nearly mated by the time I came across them,” Pourtus argued. “I suggest we confine this woman before she causes us any more problems. Or perhaps we should just give her to the man. He seemed eager enough for the traitorous bit...”

“Enough,” Dynarys growled. Then he spoke softly, “Gayriel, go to your chambers, and if you know any caution, you will not come back out until you've been told.”

Soft from Dynarys was dangerous. Frightened by what he might do if she did not obey, she left the group and made her way to the chambers provided to her. How was she supposed to deliver the message when he sent her from him? Obviously, Scet had too much confidence in her influence on the man.

“It is a good thing that none of the Amber Aerie mated her; a misery to the dragon whose mate betrays him,” Strale shook his head. “A shame, too,” he muttered.

Gayriel didn't have to look back to see the fury rolling off of Dynarys, she could practically feel it. How quick he was to believe poorly about her.

She entered her chambers and closed the door behind her. It clicked shut, cutting off the Lords and their frustrating inability to see the truth. She growled, and kicked it a little for good measure.

The action left her feeling despondent. She wanted him to see the truth, but she really hadn't given him reason to trust her; in his eyes, her actions constantly screamed disobedience and willfulness. The willingness to believe her a traitor shouldn't come as a surprise. Still, given that he bought her for reasons of subterfuge, she would expect a little more trust. She hadn't betrayed her supposed purpose, had she?

The lanterns in the main room were lit, highlighting the perfection of its contents, an attention to detail that still amazed her. But it was a surface picture, showing nothing of the tension the aerie held, just as she was supposed to be. Sex slave, an item to be used at someone else's will.

The thought halted her, not because of its negativity, but because it was no longer true. Not really. She hadn't acted, nor thought, much like a slave since leaving the choosing house. And even at this aerie, doing as she thought best to earn her freedom, she acted on her own free will.

She sat on the lush cushions of a nearby chaise, running a finger along the deeply polished wood on the arm. It had been a long time since she thought about what kind of woman she wished to be; long before her parents had sold her for a quick meal, when womanhood was still a distant dream. But she knew, now, what she wanted. Freedom was part of it, certainly, but mostly she wanted to be true, honorable. And to have the freedom to choose that path.

So, she decided with a finality that grew in her chest, Dynarys would get her help, whether he wanted it or not.

Three hours passed while she waited for the courtyard to clear. It didn't empty completely, of course; despite the unlikelihood of defending against the Onyx Aerie in their current state, a night watch had been set.

She crept to the high, narrow window near the door. The Onyx Aerie apartments were well furnished, but not lavish. It appeared that the windows were the same. Functional, tall, and high to allow light in, but not a big enough space to allow a woman to crawl through. It mattered not, since she would have to shatter the glass to get out and that was bound to draw unwanted attention.

She had to pull herself up on the window's edge to gain any view of the courtyard. Her fingers strained beneath her weight, legs dangling uselessly below her.

Shadows and dark shapes filled the outside world, none of which looked like a Dragon Lord.

That didn't mean he wasn't out there somewhere.

She watched for as long as her arms held strength. Nothing moved, not even a little.

Shit.

She dropped back to the floor, the sound of her landing silenced by her slippers.

She had already donned her brown travel dress, the closest clothes she had to black; she shouldn't be too visible. She had hoped, however, for a glimpse of the guard. If she knew his position, she might be better able to avoid him.

It had not missed her attention earlier that, though she had been ordered to her chambers, no one had bothered, or remembered, to lock her in. Thoughtless on their part, really, they should know better.

Dynarys had apprehended the rooms next to hers, so she wouldn't be in the open long.

It was a risk she might have to deal with. Dynarys needed that message soon. He had chosen not to flee the Onyx Aerie, but if her understanding of the situation was correct, and enemies were closing in, he might want to reconsider.

She paced in front of the door twice.

Then, taking a deep breath, she pulled the latch and stepped into the darkness. The heavy wood swung open smoothly, and she left it ajar, for easy re-entrance...and because she was afraid the sound of it closing might give her away.

She paused, hovering next to the wall, certain she would be caught at any moment. Nothing happened, no challenge echoed out. As far as she could tell, whoever was on guard was not present at all.

She would speak to Dynarys about that, too, she decided. Now was not the time for any of the Lords to be lacking in duty.

She slid along the stones, holding her skirts against her legs so that they did not pull down loose mortar. The caution was unnecessary, though, and she reached Dynarys' door without incident.

She pulled the latch open, and in a moment she was in the darkened sitting area, the door closed behind her.

Too easy.

The thought hardly had time to flit through her mind before it was halted by the smooth cool feel of a blade against her throat.