Page 2 of MidKnight
“Declan?” I whispered, moving to touch his arm. “What are you doing?”
Dec glanced up at me, a crease at his brow. “Trying to see how much blood we’d need to stop it, Peace.”
“Oh. Yes. Do that.”
His mouth quirked up in a grin. “Is that an order?”
I nodded and a tiny spark came into his eyes before he bent back over his notebook and I turned back to Connor and Jorad. My sweet, blond economics adviser was right. We needed to know how much blood he’d need to multiply. He could reduce water to multiply blood. And with blood … I could make the dragon peaceful. My magic could lull it. But only temporarily. And the price of forcing peace on another creature? Blood.
The last time we’d fought the dragon, my peace magic had worn off in less than an hour. And that had taken a moat full of blood. I had no idea how long we’d have to keep the beast peaceful for our rescue. What if the dragon had dragged my sister into a cave? I left Declan to his calculations. Our lives, Avia’s life, might depend on them.
I looked for the last of my four knights. Quinn, my spy master, was in the far corner of the room, facing the wall, checking in with each of his spies, to see if anyone had seen a dragon. I could see his black hair and his pointed elf ears twitch as he had silent conversations.
Quinn faced the wall so he could ignore us and concentrate. The problem with his choice was that it distracted me for a second, because it gave me a very, very nice view of his ass.
Not helping my focus, Dove.
Sorry,I thought at him. His magic allowed him to communicate via thoughts, which was incredibly useful as a spy master, and incredibly hot in the bedroom. But it was somewhat embarrassing in moments like this.
I turned back to Connor and Jorad, who were now debating.
Connor ran a hand through his messy brown curls.
“—we could re-draft a document in a few hours,” Jorad said.
“Hours?” I interjected. “You think Avia has hours?”
“I think you need to do this right!” Jorad slammed his hand onto the meeting table.
“What’s right is stopping that beast!” I yelled. My sixteen-year-old sister—no, seventeen, it was her birthday—could be dropped at any moment. Flamed. Eaten. The nightmares played in an endless stream in my head. Connor grabbed my left hand and drained a bit of my panic.
I met his eyes. I knew what he wanted without him having to say a word. Connor wanted me to rein it in. I took a deep, shuddering breath.
Abbas smirked from his spot on the edge of the rug. I put up my free hand and blasted the evil wrinkler with enough glowing green peace magic to knock him out. His eyes closed and he fell back onto the marble floor, smacking his skull with a dreamy smile on his face. The black-haired, black-hearted prince of Cheryn could stay passed out until we had Avia back. It was worth the fresh wound on my forearm. I dabbed at the blood with my sleeve as I looked back up at Jorad.
“I’m going to rescue my sister.”
“What do your people need more, the other princess or theirqueen?" he snapped.
I decked him. I couldn't help myself. I dropped Connor’s hand and just swung. The rage took over in a blur of heat and red-tinged vision. I punched that sarding dunderhead in the jaw.
Avia was everything. She was an innocent. She was one of my people. I had a duty to protect her. And she was hurt because of me. Because I’d chosen to tango with a madman. And I hadn’t anticipated he’d go this far.
Of course, he would.
He wanted Evaness.
I was a fool. This was my fault. And I had to be the one to fix it.
Connor’s hand stopped my arm from launching a second hit, a hit Jorad didn’t deserve. I was so furious at myself that I could hardly see straight.
Connor, sensing my agitation with his magic, tried to soothe me. He rubbed my back gently, gliding his fingers over my shoulder blades, letting the soft velvet of my hem brush my spine. When my fists unclenched, Connor moved closer, lending me strength. He stood next to me, shoulder to shoulder. Together, we stared down Jorad.
My butler cupped his face as he spoke, spittle dripping onto his split lip. “If you go now and leave the current document your mother had in place, then Duke Aiden will be the regent.”
My eyes widened. I dropped Abbas’ chain in shock. “What?” I recalled seeing Duke Aiden at Kylee’s gambling hall on more than one occasion. I recalled the duke losing round after round of poker, and then comforting himself with one of the prostitutes who worked there. “That’s who my mother appointed to rule in her absence? Not his wife?” Evaness was matriarchal. It was highly unusual for my mother to have picked a man as her regent.
“Not his wife,” Jorad confirmed.
