Page 14 of Dragons' Mate
“Is there something else?” I ask.
“Don’t die, human,” says Quinton. “Tavias will want the pleasure of killing us both himself.”
CHAPTER7
Kit
The door to the small room opens on silent hinges, letting in the sounds of the ballroom beyond for the briefest of moments. My stomach jumps. The hour I’ve been here, waiting alone in the dark, has been one of the longest of my life—but the next one, might just prove longer.
In the soft light of my lantern, I see Quinton push a wide-eyed Fionna inside. A wave of confusion, obvious despite her winged mask, rolls over her as her attention lands on me. Then I feel the heat of Quinton’s gaze and my mind goes blank at the palpable hunger there. The shadows themselves seem to crackle around us, and the pounding of a heart that I know isn’t mine echoes through my chest.
Quinton swallows, his hand tightening on a shelf’s edge with a white knuckle grip.
"How… How can I be of service to my prince?" Fionna asks, her voice breaking the silence.
Quinton ignores her. His mouth parts, the tips of his canines scraping against his lip. His costume, which was merely perfect amidst the backdrop of the ballroom, now seems an ethereal representation of a dragon made flesh. Midnight black, accented with armor-like scales along his spine and shoulders. Coupled with the predatory violence that radiates from Quinton’s lithe movements, he is impossible to look away from.
“My prince?” Fionna asks again.
His attention still on me, Quinton waves his hand. "You explain."
"Why me?" I ask.
"Because the alternative is that I explain.” His voice sounds low and steady, at utter odds with the pounding pulse that I know is his. “And I don't explain."
"Fair point," I agree, turning toward Fionna. The young woman is worrying her dress, but waits patiently otherwise. For someone who has no idea what’s happening or why she’s been pulled into a dark supply closet with a killer dragon prince and a strange woman in Slait Court colors, she is holding it together well. “Fionna—”
A gong sounds beyond the wall, cutting me off.
Quinton curses. “They are starting the pledge ceremony,” he says. “Talk fast.”
“I’m not the one who waited this long to get started.”
“You have even less time now.”
Turning my back to Quinton, I swing my attention to Fionna and survey her quickly. She is thinner and taller than me, but the clothes should fit. More or less. They’ll have to.
“Fionna, my name is Kit. I’m not here to hurt you.” I make my voice friendly despite the time crunch. “In fact, I’ve some good news—you need not go through the trials.”
“Of course I do.” Fionna’s brow furrows. “I am to pledge in a few minutes.”
“You won’t have to go to the trials because I will take your place.” I pause, searching Fionna’s face for comprehension. “I will go in your place to the trials, and you will go free.”
Instead of thanking me profusely, she twists to Quinton, her eyes wide. “Have I done something to displease you, my prince?”
“Yes.”
“W-what have I done?”
“You exist,” Quinton says.
“I don’t understand.”
He bares his teeth. “You. Exist. Your existence displeases me. Clear enough?”
“Oh for stars’ sake!” I shove Quinton in the chest, which does nothing except make me feel better. Taking Fionna’s hands in mine, I turn the confused girl toward me. “Don’t listen to that asshole. You’ve done nothing wrong. This is good news. It means you are free to go where you will.”
She stares at me, fear paling her already blanched skin. “My family has already spent against the bridal payment. They’d be destitute if I failed to fulfill my duty.”
