CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 21
“She what?” Dynarys growled. Fear slammed into his gut like a physical blow. His breath escaped him. He had imagined that he had minimized the stupidity of the delegation, but the entire time, his mate had been working her way back into danger. Gayriel.
“I know only for certain that she made it to the tower, because she sent this one to me.”
Strale pulled a pale looking woman, bruised and tattered, from the crowd of surrounding Shifters and Lords.
Dynarys frowned at her, and then frowned at the group. There were still men missing. Three of the Lords had yet to return, and an entire unit of Shifters was unaccounted for. Dynarys held out hope they were making their way to him, but there was no way of knowing for certain what had become of any of them.
But Gayriel...Gayriel would not be making her way to him. She would be aiming for the orb. An orb he was increasingly certain did not even exist; just another piece of an elaborate trap.
“We will form an incursion team,” he commanded, not looking at Strale. If the man was wise, he would remain silent and out of the way, his failure sparked the urge in Dynarys to beat the man to a pulp.
“Not necessary,” Scet appeared from the forest, leading the missing Shifters. He was damp with sweat, as though he had been running through the forest moments before. Dynarys tried to feel relief, the majority of his people were safe, but not even a hint of peace would find him. “Grim and his followers left the tower, about five minutes ago. They head north, into the forest, and they carry the lady.”
“Then such is the last mistake they will ever make,” a fury unlike any Dynarys had ever known filled him, fed by the dragon within. Another Lord was touching, maybe harming, his mate.
He struggled to keep the beast from breaking forth right there, to control the violent emotions that wracked him.
A hand fell on his shoulder.
“It will undoubtedly be a trap,” Scet warned.
Of course it would. And they already knew that the unlikely had occurred: Grim had some form of bargain with the Quatori.
Strale shook his head. “We cannot battle the Quatori and Grim's men. We are out powered as it is.”
“You will be fighting no one. Take the woman and deliver her to the Amber Aerie. I trust you can keep this one safe,” Dynarys snarled.
Strale blinked, and then frowned. Such a task was a punishment for his failure with Gayriel and the man knew it. Dynarys waited while the blond processed what he had said. He had been wrong to trust his mate with anyone else, he knew now. How he might have avoided such a disaster he wasn't sure. He was fairly certain, despite being disappointed in the man, that Strale was not a traitor.
“Yes, sir,” Strale nodded at last, his face carefully neutral.
“Strale is right, we cannot battle both the Quatori and Grim's men,” Dynarys turned to the remaining Lords and Shifters. “I have a plan,” he looked first at his mother, and then to Scet, Shifters that he was trusting with his world. “And I trust my pack to achieve it.”

Claws dug painfully into Gayriel's ribcage, nearly, but not quite, puncturing the skin. She could feel the tender muscles bruising beneath, and the pain was enough to make her cry out. One of Grim's followers had scooped her up and dove from the height of the tower, spiraling at dizzying speed toward the ground. Her entire body had stiffened, pronouncing the pinching hold the beast had upon her, before he opened his wings and sped off toward the edge of the plateau.
Now, what seemed like an eternity later air, still whirled past her cheeks. Her gut tightened and lurched alternately.
How could she have been so stupid? She hadn't seen it at all.
Oh, she knew Grim was trouble, but a trap laid down to lure Dynarys to his death? Why? And how did she end up caught between it all?
Because you couldn't just listen, couldn't trust that Dynarys knew best, had things under control.
Shame threatened to overwhelm her. She would be the cause of her own death, and the cause of his. Did he know, already, how she had lied? The smart thing for him to do would be not to come, not to fall into the trap.
She straightened, inwardly at least. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would be so angry at her disobedience that he would stay away. He was a strong man. The strongest she knew. He should be able to contain his dragon.
Oh, who was she trying to fool?
Trees and their wayward branches reached up toward her from the darkness below. The dragon holding her had no concern about their nearness, but she flinched each time a twig brushed her skin. It was dark, and she didn't trust his eyes any more than she did her own.
What difference does it make? Death from the flight, or death once they arrived...either way she wasn't getting through that night alive.
Not with those thoughts filling my head. She shook herself, ignoring the pain that the movement caused and forced her mind onto a more logical path. Shadows surrounded them as they flew, dragons. She attempted to count them, but kept losing track as they drifted in and out of sight. She estimated around ten, though. That was a far cry from the full power of the Onyx Aerie. Where had the rest of them gone? And were they friend or foe? Surely some of them would oppose Grim and his annex of the Archon's position.
Maybe it was foolish, but knowing that there were only ten Dragon Lords boosted her confidence a little. There had been seven Lords on the delegation. They lost Cillumn, but that still left six, if they were to come to her rescue.
She tried to convince herself that the nearly two to one odds were not that terrible.
Unless, of course, more Amber Aerie dragons had met their end in the battle.
She deflated a little.
The flight came to an end abruptly. One moment, she was clutched painfully between massive claws, and the next she tumbled through space. She fell long enough to let out a frightened squeal before hitting the ground. Hard. Stunned from both the fright and impact, she did not rise right away.
The dragons shifted as they landed, until twelve men surrounded her.
She had counted wrong, and not in her favor, either. Things kept getting darker for her future.
“Bind and gag her before you begin,” Grim commanded. He towered above Gayriel, his body seeming bigger silhouetted against the sky above. He paused a moment. She couldn't see his eyes, but she felt his soulless gaze upon her.
“Actually, don't gag her. The more noise she makes, the quicker the Quatori will find her. Let's see how quiet she can be while her life is fading from her.”
Disgusting. He was the worst kind of man.
“The rest of you prepare. They will come. Do as you wish with the rest, but remember Firestriker is mine.”
“Why?” Gayriel demanded, before any of them had turned to obey. “What grudge do you hold against him?”
She held no illusions; she would not talk her way out of this, but the entire thing seemed false. Why set up an entire delegation to get to one man? What purpose would that hold?
“Aside from the fact that the abomination should have been culled at birth, I hold no grudge, dear Lady,” Grim surprised her by answering. “It is simply the price of my reign.”
Large hands grabbed her arms. They were rough and brought sharp pain as they jerked her limbs behind her back. She turned to snarl and fight, hoping to buy a precious few seconds.
Then blinked. Even in the dark, the shock of white hair stood out among the other lords.
“Pourtus?”
“Lady,” Pourtus sneered.
“Traitor!” she spat at him, twisting away. It was useless. He far out powered her but she could not simply wait passively for the dog licking coward to complete his task. He was the one putting out torches on the carriage. She knew it was a Dragon Lord. How many other ways had he betrayed them? Was he behind Cillumn's death? She tried to think back, to remember if he had been upset by the news.
She levied a kick at his groin, and almost hit her mark before he moved. The heel of her naked foot connecting with his inner thigh. Boots. Practical boots with solid heels, that is what she needed.
He snarled, grabbing hold of her hair and forcing her head backward. Pulling her against his chest and holding her there, her feet dangling from the ground, he effectively halted any farther attacks.
“Tie her quickly or I will snap her pretty neck and Grim will have no bait.”
Someone complied and her arms were bound behind her, so tight she felt the circulation draining from them instantly.
As soon as the deed was done, Pourtus threw her down. Unable to catch herself, she hit the ground so hard her head bounced. Sharp pain lanced through her temple, but she did not lose consciousness.
Breathe. Just breathe. And stay awake girl, you need to draw this out.
“The dark goddess take you, Pourtus, and everything you love.”
Feet appeared in her vision, and then knees as he crouched before her.
“If the dark goddess exists, then she has already fucked my life. Born into the Archon's line and then placed below the half-breed in command. Forced to pander to that disgusting excuse...and if that wasn't enough, now he has mated. If you think I am going to wait around for you to breed more abominations, you are wrong.”
A long narrow blade appeared in his hand.
“Pourtus,” Grim's voice came from a distance. “You will wait for the bargain to be complete.”
Gayriel had been too focused on the sad excuse of a Dragon Lord to pay attention to where Grim had gotten himself. She peeked at him now, or his shape anyway, just at the edge of the space, twenty yards from where she lay. He was alone, and except for Pourtus and the Dragon Lord who bound her, they were the only ones in the clearing. The other Lords must have scattered into the trees. Did they plan to ambush Dynarys when he came? Or did they escape the Quatori?
She eyed Grim. He was insane. Maybe it had to do with locking his beast away all the time. Even now, from across the clearing, his eyes glowed, a sure sign his dragon rose to the surface, wanted escape, but no other sign appeared. Pair that with his hatred of...
Three wolves stepped from the forest, tails high and erect, hackles raised and white dagger-teeth bared. Shifters.
“Kurath,” Grim nodded. “It is as you requested,” he flung his arm toward Gayriel and the attention of the wolves shifted to her position.
Kurath? Dynarys's brother? But she thought Grim hated the Shifters. She most definitely could not see him allowing one to command him. What was going on?
A lump of nausea rose to her throat watching Kurath shift to man, part worry, and part disgust at the sight. The other wolves remained in animal form, yet there was something familiar about the one on the right. She had the sinking feeling he might have been the one trying to rape her at the Amber Aerie. Not a great time to find herself bound and helpless.
“That is not Dynarys,” Kurath growled dryly. “I will not give up my end of the bargain for some silly bitch.”
Before she could blink, Grim had Kurath on the ground, a flash of metal at his throat. The two wolves snarled in surprise and closed in, but Grim ignored them.
“You will give up your end of the bargain because I say so Shifter, silly bitch or not. But it just so happens that it pleases me to watch the half-breed meet his end, so I will humor you. This bitch is Dynarys's mate. He is searching for her this very instant. I give him five minutes until he tracks us down. This is the opportunity I provide you.”
Grim rose gracefully, and Kurath lay a moment more before rising himself. The wolves poised to attack retreated slightly, but did not appear any less tense. In fact, she suspected they were regretting whatever arrangement Kurath had pulled them into.
“You press your luck, Dragon Lord,” Kurath brushed at his limbs, all the appearance of a calm interaction, as though he hadn't just had his life threatened. “The Master seeks the blood of your kind above all else. I could easily direct him to you.”
“And I could easily feed him your wretched corpse,” Grim threatened. “But I won't, and you won't, because your master seeks what I have.”
Kurath snorted. “You have much to learn about the Master, but keep making assumptions. I love watching Dragon Lords sucked dry.”
Gayriel wasn't sure what Grim's reaction to Kurath's words was, but she swallowed at a lump in her throat. The master? Sucked dry? Like some dark Quatori leader? Did Quatori have leaders? Or was there something else in the forest she didn't know about?
Something worse than the Quatori.
Trembles began to work their way through her body. She hadn't reacted fully to the situation since she walked into the tower. Shock was finally setting in.
“You will find him to the west; he favors the shadows at the base of the mountains there. Wear this,” Kurath tossed something toward Grim. She couldn't see what it was, but it was small enough for Grim to catch with one hand. “...and the Quatori won't eat you on sight.”
“And how will I find him? I cannot sense his kind,” Grim demanded.
She was right, then. They were speaking of the Quatori. Not just any Quatori, a master Quatori.
Kurath laughed outright, his head thrown backward. It made him appear even more insane. “You don't,” he chuckled. “No one finds the Master. He will find you. And if he finds your offer more intriguing than your scent, he will not devour you.”
Grim was not intimidated, or he didn't show it if he was. He simply faded into the shadows.
“Bleed her,” his voice echoed back.
Shit. What had she been doing? Watching the spectacle while she should have been working at her bonds, or rolling away, or something. Anything.
She knew better, though. Pourtus and the other Dragon Lord still stood over her. They, too, had been listening, but it wasn't likely they were so absorbed they would not have noticed her clumsy attempts at escape.
Pourtus rumbled something in his throat, but he loosed his blade and looked down at her. For a very brief moment, she saw something like pity cross his face and then, without blinking, he slashed.
She felt nothing at first. Shock will do that to you, numb everything for that brief quarter of a second. And then, her arm burned as if it were on fire. The skin there split and she could feel warm fluid join the raindrops and sweat on her skin. Blood. Her blood.
Pourtus raised his blade again, and this time she flinched and cowered against the ground. Death loomed over her.
She processed the odd whistle first. It was difficult to think of anything but the pain in her arm, it was so overwhelming, but Pourtus grunted a surprised sound above her. She looked up, her eyes blurred with unshed tears.
Something was wrong with his arm. He had dropped the blade, but it took a long moment for her brain to realize it was because a wide arrow shaft protruded straight through his limb.
Everything was silent for a breath.
And then chaos broke loose.