Page 2 of Dragon Unleashed

Naeve chews on a strand of her hair. She clasps and unclasps her hands, before placing them firmly behind her back. “I know the way, Silas. An escort isn’t required.”

“The Virrey wanted to ensure the birthday girl didn’t get…distracted.” He glances out the window. The last few fancy cars are pulling away, their former occupants already hustled inside the building. A dull glint reflects off the chassis of a parked motorbike.

It’s so out of place. Is that…? It can’t be. Chano’s bike.

He shouldn’t be here.

“What the hairy hags is going on, Farrell?” My voice echoes around the dimly lit antechamber.

Farrell perches on the edge of an elegant chaise longue in front of a roaring fire, calmly ignoring me. The flames reflect off his perfect auburn curls and the long shadows cast by the fire make his chiseled jaw stand out. Especially when he clenches it.

Rather than answer, he bends and reties his patent leather shoes, slowly. Ignorant asshole.

“Keep your voice down, princess. Much louder and the masses out there will hear,” Silas hisses, so close to my ear I flinch.

“Chano’s bike is here,” I say, glaring between Zephyr and Farrell.

One of them must know why. Zephyr tosses his blond hair over his shoulder, his gaze bouncing between admiring himself in the mirror and watching Farrell. Am I invisible? On mute? What the hell is going on?

Finally done with his stupid shoes, Farrell stands smartly. Without a word he tweaks the fascinator in my hair, fiddling until he’s happy with it. Then, gripping my shoulders, he spins me to face a rich burgundy curtain. The muffled voices on the other side of the drape finally register.That’s a lot of voices.

“Head up, shoulders back, Lorelei. Keep your mouth shut and act as if nothing is wrong. Tonight is about appearances,” Farrell says.

Zephyr sidles up, patting my bare arm. I shrug him off just as the Virrey marches in. The row of military badges pinned to his lapel clinks with each heavy step. His hand lands on Farrell’s shoulder and he squeezes, hard. The Virrey’s fingers blanch white as his grip tightens. Farrell doesn’t even flinch.

“Stop. You’ll hurt him!”

“See, son, she cares for you. Although she doesn’t know what you’ve done yet.” The Virrey sneers, his lip lifting to display alarmingly sharp teeth.

Chano’s bike.What did Farrell do? If he’s harmed Chano… No. This is just his awful mind games. I should be used to it by now.

I step up, shoulder to shoulder with Farrell, and lay my hand in the crook of his elbow. Farrell’s hand brushes the top of mine, and he lifts his chin in the subtlest of movements.

“Whatever he did, I’m sure you forced him,” I say, gritting my teeth.

“Enough,” the Virrey booms. “Through those curtains, in my ballroom, with my guests, you will behave impeccably, all of you.”

I press my lips together in a firm line.

“The thing is, princess, I don’t just pay for you. I own you.” His pupils dilate and I see his beast hovering just below the surface as he leans in. “Behave, or I will remove you from Fates Academy and have you thrown in jail. Or lock you up in a psych unit. I heard what happened to Frank.”

Surreptitiously I dig my heel into Farrell’s shin. Hetoldhis father I killed my foster carer? The Virrey’s the damn governor of the state of Venez. Doesn’t he have some kind of duty to report me?

The Virrey finally lets go of Farrell’s shoulder, and instead strokes a finger down the side of my face. His dry, leathery touch gives me goose bumps. The bad kind. Bracing, I force myself not to flinch away.

“Poor Frank was just trying to be the best foster parent that he could. What you did was truly psychotic. So, do not tempt me tonight, princess. Behave like a lady, or as close as you can manage, you little gutter whore.” His hot breath tickles my face, the stale, eggy scent making me gag. “And do not, under any circumstances, use your aether.”

The Virrey draws himself up, clicks his heels together, and salutes Farrell; Farrell returns the gesture.Traitor.

As the Virrey disappears through the curtain Farrell sweeps me along behind, through the drape and into an oak-paneled ballroom. He stares straight ahead, his features reserved, stony. Cold.

The cacophony dies to a background mutter as I’m propelled up the steps to an extravagantly decorated dais, Naeve and Zephyr close behind. A sea of bright, glittering faces gazes up at us.

For half a second, I forget to breathe. My chest burns and I peer wildly for the exits.

Pushing the air out of my lungs, I force a steady breath.Do not panic. Not yet.I study the room, slower this time. Lots of ball gowns and fancy suits, plenty of drink flowing. So many, many people. But no Chano.

The Virrey steps to the front of the stage and with a twitch of his finger abruptly silences the concert pianist.

---