Page 21 of Dragon Unleashed

Ping.

I better look. I unlock my phone, angling it away from Val. Nosy cow.

Virrey: Lorelei, you have additional extracurriculars. One evening a week you will train with Lady Tenebrae, and on the weekends that Farrell is off campus you will train under Silas.

I finger the handle of my dagger before punching out a short reply.

Lorelei: Fine. But…I finally saw a picture of my mom.

I hold my breath.

Virrey: Then you understand why you and Farrell would make such an excellent pair.

The three small dots stop bouncing. That’s it? That’s all he has to say. Hairy hags. I am not dating Farrell, not now, not ever. I type furiously, ignoring Val’s intrigue.

Hewie grabs my finger; with his other hand, he deletes my entire message. I shove his shoulder, glaring, and he rocks back with a little squeak. Asshat.

Staring at my blank screen, it sinks in. The Virrey didn’t deny anything. Didn’t deny my mom was a royal.

Does Farrell know too?

I start typing furiously again, but this time it’s Val’s hand that grasps mine.

“Get off, you’re a pair of idiots.”

“There’s more going on here, isn’t there?” she asks.

“I…I can’t tell you.”

“Believe me, I donotwant to know any more about Virrey Cuelebre than I have to. That man gives me the creeps. But maybe don’t piss him off too much? Don’t send him whatever your fingers are begging to type right now.”

Since when was Val the voice of reason? She’s the gigging rock star, the one who loved the fight club last year. She’s the wild child. I scowl but reluctantly turn off my screen.

“Fine. No confronting the Virrey…today. But I know who I can confront.”

I swing around to face my allegiance, but the table is empty.

Typical—just when I finally want to talk to the jerk, he vanishes.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea either…”

I’m already at the exit, and Hewie’s voice fades into the background as I pick up speed. Farrell has some explaining to do. Again.

Calm down. Do not go into full raging bitch mode.My internal pep talk isn’t working. Flames lick along my arms as I knock on Farrell’s door.

The door swings open and my jaw drops.

Farrell leans on the door frame, a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted abs. My flames snuff out as my gaze follows the droplets running down the inverted V on his stomach.

I focus hard on Farrell’s face. His amused expression.

Do not look lower again. Don’t you dare. You’re angry, remember. Angry.

“So, you knew?” I manage to force some harshness into my words.

Farrell steps back and runs a hand through his auburn curls.

“Knew what, princess?”

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