Cece > Books: dragons‎ (51)

“What exactly is it you want from me?” Ryu asked with exasperation. “At times, it almost seems like you care—about our kind, about me—but then you head off by yourself and take stupid risks.”

“You will not leave me," a voice filled with dark promise told her. "You will not die. You don't have my permission. Do you understand?”

“Dewdrop shook his head in aggravation. " This is why I can't leave. Only you would think a rescue attempt consisted of being kidnapped yourself."
"It worked, didn't it?" she defended.
"You got stabbed in the chest," he accused.
"But I didn't die. Things turned out exactly how they were supposed to," she said with a haughty sniff.”

“He straightened and spoke, sounding as if he was reciting a message. "My Lord Ryuji has sent me to request your presence."
"What's the exact message?"
The man straightened, his face smoothing into placid lines as he recited, "Get your ass out of bed and hightail it up to headquarters now.”

“Wasn’t it you who said Ryu was a misbegotten son of an ass who couldn’t be trusted not to make everyone else as miserable as he was?”
“That was you.”
Tate paused and frowned. That’s right.”

“Gabriella held up one finger. “You’re involved in an event that intersects with three of the most powerful people in the empire. None of whom like each other.”
She held up another finger. “You’re the first female dragon in known history. Your existence is bound to shake things up. Create enemies. Anyone standing next to you had better be prepared for a wild time.”

“Then do so,” Ryu snapped back. “Try not to get poisoned, kidnapped or tortured for the next day and maybe I won’t be prone to overreacting.”

“Tate, so glad we could meet again,” Lucius said from the other side of the carriage. Tate sighed. Ryu was never going to let her live this down.

“You’re kind of crazy, you know that?” Gabriella said.
“Oh yes,” Dewdrop responded. “We are well aware, but it’s the kind of crazy that usually works out in the end.”
“And you follow her willingly?”
“I’d take her crazy over the self-interest and self-involvement of others every time.”

“I glanced back at Tyrrik. He was still lying right where I’d left him, looking pretty much dead.
“Good, good.” I gave myself an inane pep talk, not believing a word of it.”

“My brief flash of good humor disappeared. “It’s Tyrrik’s fault. He’s sulking.”
“I’m not sulking,” the one-hundred-and-nine-year old said.
“Mmm-hmm, sure.”
Dyter exploded. “Enough!” He whirled on us, stomping back to wave a finger in my face. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t speak at all.”
“That’s what we were doing before,” I huffed. “You said it made you cranky.” By this point, I was needling the old man, but I craved an outlet for my frustration, and he’d offered one.”

“You ruined my tavern!” I grabbed at Tyrrik, and he lowered his head. Holding either side of his Drae face, I narrowed my eyes at his slightly sheepish expression.
“You are so paying for that,” I snarled, staring into his inky eyes.
I released his head and sank to my knees. “Everything . . . I’ve worked for. In ruins.”
Tyrrik nudge me with his snout. "You’ve only been here three days.”

“My mouth dried as I saw what he held aloft. Playing it cool, I asked, “What’s that?”
“A gold trinket.”
Desire shot through me, and I propped myself up, licking my lips. “What kind of trinket?”
“It’s an antique pill box that once belonged to an esteemed baroness.” He tossed the pill box in his hand. “Want it?”
“The gold beckoned me. It was just what this cave needed. A bit of sparkling wealth. Actually, I needed it. I got to my feet and murmured, “Yes.”

“He turned to the guards and announced us. “We seek an audience with King Zakai. Please inform him that Lord Tyrrik the . . . Free Drae, Dyter of Verald—ambassador to King Caltevyn, and Ryn are here.”
I practically gave myself Drae whiplash at that. I lowered my head to Dyter, a low growl rumbling in my chest. Shouldn’t I be Ryn the Coolest Drae, or Ryn the Phaetyn-Drae? Or maybe Ryn the Phaetyn-Drae, daughter of Ryhl—
Dyter eyed me nervously and blurted, “I mean to say, Ryn the most powerful Drae.”

“My mouth opened and closed several times before I could string together my words. Finally, I said, “You just threw that pebble in your hand and killed a man.”
“Yes,” Irrik said. “The king instructed me to protect you.”
“Pretty sure he didn’t mean at the expense of killing his guards” I replied

“Certainly, he wouldn’t have deceived me, betrayed me, like that.
His face was a smooth canvas, blank of all emotion. Void of everything.
“You,” I choked”

“Irrik ran his fingertips over the deep gash. Black blood dripped down his arm. “Did you . . . just attack me with a garden hoe?”
“I rushed to him, crying out, “It had my blood on it!” My hands fluttered over the grotesque wound. “Tell me what to do. I don’t want it to kill you.”
He moved to look at me, a curious expression falling over his face. “You regret hurting me?”
“What? No. Well, killing you, yes.” My stomach rolled at the thought of murdering something, someone, anyone. “How long will it take to set in?” I asked him, trying to remain calm. “Should we try cutting off your arm?”
Lord Irrik’s brows rose. “Cutting off . . . ?” He broke off and threw his head back in laughter. The gruff waves of it rolled across the potato field.”