Page 48 of Dragon Unhinged

So much for trying to get him to be more lenient. I don’t know what angle he’s playing at, but I can’t, and I won’t give anything away.

Least of all the fact that I’ve been sleeping with their idea of the “enemy”.

“I know. It was worth a shot.” I shrug. “Ellie’s not going to damage the family reputation, Zimo. I would think that you’d be happy that I finally found a good friend.”

“I am. But that doesn’t mean you can suddenly go around demanding changes to Father’s rules.” He slips my backpack off my shoulder and carries it for me, through the house into the garage.

It’s not a surprise that’s where the conversation dies, but I can’t help but feel like even more of a prisoner, sharing the same jailers as Declan.

“Tell whoever’s on pick-up duty tonight that I need to spend some time in the library, so I’m not going to be ready to go right after my last class today.” It’s a small rebellion, one that Papa probably won’t even bat an eye at, but it’s one I feel like I desperately need. There must be more information Ellie can give me about shifters, about dragons, about magic. There must be something I can do to help Declan and the others.

I hate that he always seems to have some unhealed wound, some sort of pain. I hate that I can’t just remove the damned cuffs. And I hate that I didn’t make any progress in getting the pieces of the spell figured out.

Even if the reason for it was entirely worth the distraction.

“Fine. But you need to be home for family dinner, so you better be outside the library no later than six.”

“Fine.” I give him a small, demure smile, the type that mirrors his general expectations of me, even though on the inside I’m jumping up and down for joy. It’s only a couple of hours, but it feels like a huge victory all the same.

Zimo waits until we’re on the road, headed straight for the university, before he says, “It sounds like you and Peter are hitting it off.”

“He’s really nice. I can’t wait to see him again.” The giddiness of my own voice surprises me.

Where did that come from?That isnothow I feel.

“Good. I think Father’s pleased with this match-up. He’s going places in U.S. government and politics.” He glances over at me. “But you know you don’t have to marry someone just because Father has chosen him, right?”

I scoff. “Isn’t that more your right? I’m the only daughter. My worth is, and has always been, tied to who I can marry, whose family I can tie ours to.” My words are spoken in as even a tone as I can manage, but inside I’m seething.

How dare he try to tell me that everything I’ve ever been raised to believe isn’t accurate, when he knows as well as I do that it’s true.

“Brianna, this isn’t Jamitari. If you’re not happy with Peter, or any of the men Father proposes, you don’t have to go through with anything that would leave you miserable.” He turns to face me, stopped at a red light, and I notice his brow is furrowed.

Does Zimo actually care about my happiness, about me?

Not that it matters. Neither he nor our father would approve of Declan. And he is my happiness and the only way I won’t be miserable.

“You say you can’t wait to see him, but your tone doesn’t. And the look on your face right now says that you’d rather run into oncoming traffic than spend more time with Peter.”

“Does it matter? If Papa really wants me to pursue something with him, I don’t think any amount of protesting would stop the invitations. Like you said, Papa has political aspirations. And so does Peter. I’m a pawn in his games, like I always have been. I can’t even get a ride home from school with a friend. Not even a guy, just a friend who wants to know about me, about my passions, my life. I can’t leave the house without armed guards or my brother watching over me. I’m twenty years old, and I’venever even been allowed to learn to drive.” I cross my arms over my chest, staring out of the windshield, surprised at myself for even thinking these things, let alone stating them out loud. “I’m not my own person, Zimo. I never have been. I don’t even know how to do basic things to take care of myself. I’ve never picked out my own clothes or cooked a meal for myself without help. I don’t even have to make my own bed in the mornings.”

Shit.I don’t make my own bed in the mornings. Would any of the staff notify my father that my bed was made this morning? Would anyone even notice?

“You’re in college, Brianna, not finishing school. People like us, we don’t have to be able to cook and clean. We pay other people to do that. Same with driving. Why do you need to know how to drive, when you know you’re safer in the back seat?” He sighs. “Or at least the passenger seat.”

“Oh, don’t come at me with stereotypes about men being better drivers. There’s plenty of stereotypes that would indicate you’re not fit to be behind a wheel either.”

“It’s not about you being a woman.” Zimo rolls his eyes. I turn to stare out of the passenger window, not wanting to continue this conversation with someone who’s never going to understand.

Instead, I reach out to Declan, trying to find his mind with my own.

Declan? I know you might be sleeping. I wouldn’t blame you. But if you’re awake, I’d really like to know I’m not alone.

A couple more lights go by before I get an answer.

Brianna. Missing me already?His tone sounds jovial, playful even.I’m always with you, even when you can’t hear me. Even when you’re far away.

I smile softly, not wanting to change my body language in any discernible way for Zimo to pick up on something.When we’re out of all this, when we have a huge house with lots of windows,or a tiny fifth floor walkup, will you…I pause, trying to decide what I really want to ask.Will you expect me to cook, to clean, to take care of the household?

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