Page 67 of Dragon Unleashed

“Chano told me what you were. Who you were. I didn’t quite believe it.” Chano’s mom ignores Sanders, her voice shaking with emotion as she turns on me. “Do you think the means always justify the end, child? Involving royalists in my business? What exactly are you dragging my son into by getting closer to them?” She flicks a hand dismissively at the row of soldiers.

That’s not fair. “Yes. Yes, it’s justified. No one has been hurt by my asking for help.”

Her eyebrows rise and she starts to turn her wheelchair on the rough ground.

“Dammit, I’m not claiming my heritage. Asking for assistance isnotthe same as a bid for the throne, whatever they think.”

Chano’s mom throws her arms in the air, then in jerky, angry movements proceeds to wheel herself away, back toward the road.

I squeeze the bridge of my nose and turn back to the soldiers. A wall of accusation greets me. Silas flicks a finger in theirdirection, and they melt away into the trees without another word.

I found it. I found the right place. Chano’s mom remembered something that might be really helpful. But…it feels like a hollow victory. Everyone is angry with me.

Screw it.

I have my own goal, my own agenda.

Get Chano back.

Chapter Thirty-two: Lorelei

Groaning, I trudge back to the pool table. Val is thrashing me. It’s not fair. I taught her everything she knows. Lining up my cue, I swipe angrily at the ball. It careers across the table before veering erratically and plopping neatly into a hole. I study the table for a long moment then look up at Zephyr. He leans against the wall, a smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised. He’s determined to cheer me up, even if it means helping me cheat.

Val’s next shot cracks the black into a pocket. She cackles.

“I won!” she crows. “At least you’re notsucha loser…you potted one.”

Zephyr’s smirk breaks into a grin, and I have to turn away to stop from laughing. I didn’t. Not really. Naeve rubs my shoulder, handing me a Magic Mary alongside her commiserations. I take a long slurp from the blood red cocktail. Many more of these and I won’t even be able to hold my cue. Although obliteration is kinda the point.

Right now, I’m happily mellow. Just me, my friends, and the commandeered common room. My slightly blurry gaze takes them all in. Naeve and Zephyr, up next on the pool table,Val celebrating her victory with a ridiculous dance, and Hewie making up another round of drinks in the corner, shimmying his very uncoordinated butt to the music. A pang of sorrow filters through my booze-haze. We’re down two people. And I miss them both.

My back’s to the door when it opens. My senses sharpen in an instant. Everything seems to slow. I take in Hewie as he spills the drink he’s making, and Zephyr as he misses the ball entirely. The hairs on my neck stand on end, and I turn.

Farrell stands in the doorway, his shirt rumpled and his tie squint. His gorgeous red curls are a tangled mess, and dark circles leak into the skin under his eyes. I put down my glass carefully, immediately missing having something to fidget with.

“The rest of you, out. I need to talk to Lorelei,” he says.

Zephyr’s round the table in an instant. “This is a bad idea.”

Farrell’s lip lifts in a snarl and Zephyr holds his hands up, jerking his chin at the rest. They traipse past, one by one, each squeezing my arm or touching me in some small way. I wanted time to unwind, without drama. I don’t have the energy for another showdown. Not tonight.

“Lorelei.” Farrell paces toward me before turning and walking to the drinks station. He picks up Hewie’s half-made drink and downs it. “Lorelei, we have to change the Fates’ decision. Weave the threads differently.”

I rub at the allegiance mark on my wrist. The pain has died to a dull prickle, but Farrell’s mark remains stubbornly red.

“Let me be honest with you.” He spreads his arms wide, whirling to face me. He looks manic, his eyes too bright, his movements jerky.

“Please, be my guest,” I snap. “It would be a first.”

Farrell jiggles his knee, frowning. “You might need Chano. But I need you, alive. My father’s threats are worsening.”

“How much worse can it get? I mean seriously, Farrell. Chano hates me, he and I failed to bond, plus our allegiance is falling apart. Oh, and Chano’s mother thinks I’m going to destroy him.”

Farrell tentatively rubs his hand down my arm.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he says.

I lean into his touch. Something about it is so uncertain and un-Farrell it lures me in. He squeezes my shoulders.

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