Page 136 of Of Flames and Fallacies

I slink off, trying to walk a straight line and not trip over my own feet as I ascend the staircase out of the great dininghall. Each step of the way I’m trying to convince myself I’m fine. But I can’t deny the overpowering dizziness washing over me. The blinding light of the ballroom’s chandeliers fades away to the dark stretching hallway lit by flickering candelabras. My staggered steps throw me sideways into a wall, and I lean against it as if my legs will give out at any given moment. I shove off the wall and take a few more steps, commanding myself to make it back to my room before I collapse.

The hallway sways back and forth, churning my stomach. Clapping my hand over my mouth, I bite my tongue to distract myself from the heat traveling up my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut for a split-second, trying not to vomit. The effort of it all causes me to swing too far right, and I tumble into a hall table. Disoriented, I attempt to grab onto something to help me up, but instead scatter candles and picture frames on the table in my wake.

Finally, I find my footing and rise to my feet. I reposition the candles and picture frames, knocking over more as I do so. Luckily, nothing is broken from what I can tell. Bracing my hand against the wall for extra support, I walk farther away from the music. The endless hallways twist and turn, and I find myself lost.

My eyes keep dragging closed, prompting me to rest.

One of the rooms I pass by has a comfortable looking settee. The dark room is illuminated only by the moonlight spilling in through tall windows. Breathy, I stumble over to the settee and collapse. My feet pulse from the heels I’ve been wearing all night. I peel the shoes off and start rubbing at the balls of my feet, glancing around the room. My vision swims and twirls with each movement of my head. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to finally focus. A gasp escapes my lips, a shiver racing down my neck. A large skull encased in glass sits on the high tops of bookshelves lining the walls. And not just any skull.

A dragon skull.

Around the room is more contraband: horns, claws, a giant scale, an egg. Despite my body groaning in protest, I pull myself off the settee and stumble past the bookshelves to a desk. If Jurrock were to have any sort of map, it has to be here. I just know it.

I brace my weight onto the desk, my breath sawing in and out of my chest at the amount of effort it took to get here. My head hangs down, my vision swimming circles. I fight through my daze, pulling open drawers and skimming its contents with shaky fingers.

Someone clears their throat from the door.

I snap my attention up to the sound. Standing in the door frame, his silhouette black against the glow of the candle-lit hallway, is Darian.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

thirty-seven

DRAGONS AND DANGEROUS MEN

I freeze, as if I stay still enough, I may fade into the shadows. But Darian takes a step forward into the room, thawing whatever had me stuck to the spot I’m in near the desk. I backpedal until I hit one of the windowed walls behind me, and he charges toward me. Racing around the farthest side of the desk from him, I dash for the exit, knocking over books and knick knacks on the bookshelves in my staggered gait.

He hisses right behind me, “Stop!”

I get to the settee first, snagging one of my heels and spinning to him, knowing I can’t outrun him and readying myself for a fight. Perhaps I should’ve considered the original heels the shopkeeper picked out for me—they would’ve been far sharper.

Darian pauses, watching me as if I were a caged wild animal. “Whyare you in here?”

I take a few steps back from him and trip over the edge of the settee’s clawed feet, falling back onto my ass. If I weren’t so drunk, I may even be embarrassed.

He closes in on me. “Stop trying to run from me. You’re going to hurt yourself—”

Still sitting on the ground, I chuck my shoe at him, pathetically missing his head by a few inches. Not sure if I should blame my intoxication or poor skills in throwing.

His gaze follows the heel’s path over his shoulder with a laugh. “You missed.”

I snag the other one off the ground and throw it at him, this time hitting him square in the jaw while he’s distracted.

He turns a glare on me and lunges again.

I scramble backwards on my hands and feet for the door. But my movements are too sluggish, too inaccurate.

“Wait! Godsdammit, you impossible woman,” Darian hisses.

My sweaty hands slip right off the polished floor, and I slam back onto the ground, my head cracking against the marbled tile. Black spots explode in my vision, my breath ripped from my lungs, followed by a screaming pain in my skull.

Darian drops down to a knee beside me as he holds out a hand. “Fuck. Are you alright?”

I glance at his hand, then back at him. There’s two of him, then three, and then one. My dizzying, pounding head steals all of my sense of urgency. I shouldn’t trust him…but the way the moonlight shines in his eyes. How shadows drag across the angles of his jaw and nose…I don’t want to admit it. But in this light he is…gorgeous.

“Let me help you up,” he whispers.

I see no way out of it, can’t think much around the wicked sharp throbbing in my head, so I reach for his hand. He closes his strong, calloused fingers over mine, and pulls me up off my back to my feet. Leaning a little too hard into him for support, I fall into his arms, before I’m trying to right myself back into my own stance.

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