Page 144 of Fate Calls the Elf Queen

Alright.“I’m going to freshen up my lipstick. Excuse me.”

She dipped into a curtsy and turned away. She peeked over her shoulder on the way through the curtain to see the others chuckling, Kira patting Hel’s forearm affectionately, and Hel staring after Layala with the kind of look that made her believe that kiss, last night, and the time they shared meant more to him than he would admit. That even if he said it didn’t mean anything, it meant everything, and he would forgive all her past and give her the world if she forgave him, too. And for one moment she thought there might not be a line he could cross that she wouldn’t forgive.

Layala hurried through the empty corridor and made a quick turn. According to Presco, the opera house was connected to the manor where they lived, and the Drakonans’ main offices were on the top floor. Turning to shadow, Layala slipped through the dimly lit halls, passing servants and guards undetected.

Her thoughts kept sliding to Hel and that kiss, but she must focus. Once she reached the top floor Presco stepped out of a darkened inlet. Layala returned to her solid form and frowned. “You’re not supposed to be here. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“This way, quickly.” He waved and with the shake of her head, she followed him. At the end of the corridor was a door nearly as wide as it was tall. “This is Rugar’s office. He’ll have the files to tell you which vault number is yours at the Treasury.”

Layala pressed her hand against the keyhole and a vine crept its way inside and broke the locking mechanism. She pushed down on the handle and quietly pushed it open.

“I take it you’ve done that before.”

“On occasion.”

For someone with as much wealth as Rugar, his office was rather plain. There was an oversized wooden desk, shelves behind it loaded with books, a single fern in the corner, and several file cabinets lining one wall. With sweat sliding down her back, she began rifling through the first drawer. Each file had a name and a folder. “Abbner, Silo, Murdoc, I can’t make sense of the order, and there are thousands of files. It could take us hours.”

Hel’s voice entered her mind,Baby Drakonan left to use the facilities, but it may have been a cover. Keep a watchful eye.

“We need to hurry.”

Presco’s nimble fingers crawled over the tops of tabs. “Fairbanks, Novello, Dramvor… It’s grouped by race. Fairbanks, Novello, Dramvor are dragons. Abbner, Silo, Murdoc are feline shifters, and within it, it looks like order of importance maybe or highest wealth. Silas Fairbanks is the wealthiest dragon behind the Drakonan family.”

Starting from opposite ends they pulled open drawers looking for gods and goddesses. They’d almost met up in the center when Layala came upon a name she knew… Katana. The folder before Valeen. She jerked the file free and opened the navy folder. Inside was a piece of paper with Katana’s vault number but, on the page stamped in red ink it read “deceased”. The word struck her more than she thought it would, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it, so Layala shoved it back inside and pulled her own file.

“Vault 118.” Her file did not read “deceased’’ asher sister’s had but did read:belongings confiscated. Vault only to be opened by Drakonan blood. Access denied to all others.She slipped the folder back where she found it. “I’m going to need a Drakonan.”

Presco glanced toward the door and ran a worried hand over the back of his neck. “Valeen, you can’t trust any of them.”

“I don’t need to trust them. I just need one of them to open the vault. The file says only to be opened by Drakonan blood.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean that only a Drakonan can open it. It means that according to his will only someone with Drakonan blood is allowed to lawfully open it. Someone in his family, and not someone married in.”

“What if…” Layala nibbled on her lower lip. “What if it means literally by Drakonan blood?” Maker above, where was Ronan when she needed him?

Footsteps and voices outside the door had both of them scrambling for somewhere to hide. “They should be watching the opera,” Layala hissed and grabbed Presco to drag him to the curtains pushed to the sides of the windows. There was an inch gap between the curtains and floor. Their feet would still show.

“Turn us into shadow,” Presco whispered, tugging the heavy velvet curtains around himself.

She didn’t know it was possible, but she grabbed his wrist and felt her magic tingling, felt herself shifting into shadow. She focused on Presco. The door creaked open, and he urged with his eyes for her to hurry.Shadow shadow shadowher shadows crept up his arm, changing his flesh into a dark transparent haze.

The heavy footsteps stepped inside. Layala peeked through the slit in the curtain… it was Caliban Drakonan. What was he doing here? He went straight for the file cabinets and tugged open the one near the center, flipped through the files and pulled one, but not just anyone, Valeen’s file.

Holy All Mother, he knows.

He turned the paper over and looked at the backside. Layala didn’t do that herself and her heart nearly stopped when she saw a sketch of her.

Layala looked up at Presco. His jaw was clenched, eyes steely. “I need a Drakonan,” she whispered. Presco slowly shook his head. Layala thought of Hel and silently said,Hel, Caliban Drakonan knows. He figured it out. I’m going to stop him.

That’s impossible. He’d be the last one in the family to know it.

He’s up here in the office with my file in hand. I’m hiding in the corner watching him now.

Don’t move. I’ll come up.

Caliban pushed the folder back into the cabinet and started for the exit. They didn’t have time to wait for Hel. Layala moved like the wind and was on his back before he had a chance to turn. With her legs locked around his torso, she slipped her elbow under his chin, hooking it tight and squeezed.Go to sleep.But his flesh shifted and hardened beneath her.Shit.Layala dropped and backed off. Soulender would go through scales, but she didn’t want to kill Caliban.

He turned revealing his silver scales across every inch of him. Very similar to Ronan. It must run in the family even after thousands of years.

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