Page 49 of Dragons' Mate
The makeshift greenhouses are not the real heart of the room though. All my attention centers on a very large ornately decorated wooden crate in the chamber’s center. The crate's wood is dark, almost black, and etched with runes—the biggest one being two overlapping circles. Sibling to the brand on my arm.
The music, the pull, its coming from inside the crate. I feel it vibrating along my skin and settle on my tongue with a tangy sweetness. My breath is still as I step closer—only to find the crate sealed from all sides. There is no lid to open. But there is something inside. Something that’s making my heart sync to thelub dub, lub dub, lub dubof its rhythm.
As I run my hand along the crate’s wood, the lullaby rekindles in my soul. There is a different feel to it now. It’s happy to see me. Desperate. Welcoming.
“What are you?” I whisper to the crate.
There is no answer. I circle around it several times, finally finding a small crack through which I can glance inside. I don’t know what I expect to see—possibly a creature of some kind. Instead, I see pebbled sides of five giant eggs. The eggs — if that’s what they are — seemed to shift ever so slightly, their colors morphing and blending.
Stars.
My hand slides across the crate, accidentally brushing one of the circle-overlapping runes. That sends a sharp jolt running up my arm, forcing me to pull back instantly. As if the crate is guarding its contents, warding off intruders.
The jolt also snaps me back to reality. I’ve no business in this room, nothing to even say if I get caught here. Not to mention that I’ve been gone too long from the celestial hall already. Whatever this is about, I need the pack and Autumn to unravel it.
The eggs seem to sense my intention and send that lullaby into my head again. Promising that I’d return when I can, I carefully open the door a crack and ensure the dimly lit corridor beyond it is empty before stepping out. Outside the room, the cold hits me all at once, the oppression of the citadel descending on me. Shadows dance along the walls as I make my way back toward the ballroom, the flickering torchlight casting an unwelcoming glow on the stone.
I keep myself close to the wall, using the shadows to mask my movements. Ironically, I’m following the sounds again—though this time I’m heading toward the shrieks and grunts of the celestial hall. At least some of the packs must still be in the middle of proving their compatibility to the priests.
I’m nearly back when the sound of footsteps stops me in my tracks, sending a jolt of fear down my spine. There is no time to react before a figure steps around the corner, his face shadowed by the hood of a priest of Orion.
Blood drains from my face.
"What are you doing here?” the priest demands, blocking my path. I don’t recognize him but I’m sure he knows who I am. Hell, I’m pretty sure every mouse in the citadel knows who I am now.
I drop my head, my heart hammering so fiercely that the rushing blood makes me dizzy.
"I was looking for the privy," I stammer into my feet. “Might you point me down the right path?”
The priest weighs me with his attention, which is as penetrating as any look Quinton gives. A fresh tremor of fears runs through me, but at least this part makes sense—any human would be terrified in my shoes. I press my knees together and give the priest the most pitiful expression I can muster, “Please, your grace? I really need to relieve myself and I’ve gotten myself turned around.”
The priest’s cold assessment gives me no window into his thoughts. Just as I’m certain he’s seen through my ruse however, he nods once. “Follow me.”
"Thank you," I manage to choke out, following him the short distance to the privy chamber.
“I will await you here,” the man says, stopping outside the privy door.
I briefly consider whether telling him that is unnecessary would more likely hurt or help me, and settle on bowing and keeping my mouth shut. Going inside the privy, I do my business quickly and take another moment to splash some water over my face. As I gaze at my reflection in the small mirror above the wash basin, a mix of determination and desperation stares back at me. Determination and desperation in a purple chiffon dress.
The priest is still there as he promised when I come out. He offers a curt nod, and we begin our journey back to the celestial hall. With each step, my senses sharpen, anxiety gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. Something about that room, thatnestfeels wrong on a visceral level. Something about this entire setup feels wrong, no matter how much Cyril and the others insist that the trial competitions are the least of all evils, a way of keeping the peace.
As we near the entrance, I see not much time has passed since my departure, at least not in the activity sense. Dragon shifters and humans are still going at each other while guests watch, the scents of arousal and wine heavy in the air. Lee is among those who have finished already. She at least looks thoroughly satisfied, her skin a glowing blush.
All four of my males stalk toward me the moment I enter the celestial hall, and they are the most wonderful sight I’ve ever beheld. Even if they are furious. After what I just saw, I don’t care if they yell at me or hold me or anything in between, so long as they listen. And I know they will. They are my pack.
“Come with me.” The priest’s hand closes on my upper arm, catching me before I can get to the males. With a firm grip, the priest directs me toward the front of the hall, where the other priests keep watch from their dais. Murmurs spread throughout the room like wildfire, and I can feel the weight of countless eyes upon me again. At least the eyes of those not currently in the middle of a rut.
"Kneel," the priest who’d led me here commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It seems here is the safest place for you this evening.”
I obey, dropping to my knees, frustration boiling my blood. My males stop a few paces away, another priest blocking their path with an outstretched staff. Behind me, my priest speaks with those in charge, but the voices are too low to hear.
Are you hurt?Tavias’s voice sounds in my head, nearly making me jump.Tap your right knee for yes, left for no.
I swallow and tap my left knee.No.
Is everything alright?
That’s one loaded question. But I only have two choices for an answer, so I go with the most true one. Left knee.No.
