Page 100 of Dance of the Phoenix
Ragnor, far more groggy and confused than he should’ve been, woke up in his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Aileen had been acting strange.
She was strange when she’d asked to go to a pharmacy for sleeping pills.
She was again strange when she’d insisted on cooking.
Then, she was strange—though in a way Ragnor enjoyed—when she’d quite literally jumped his bones.
Now, he was trying to remember how the hell he’d fallen asleep. He was supposed to stay awake while Aileen fell asleep and go meet Eliza, to see if perhaps she’d created a miracle and managed to get the Tears of Euphorrey from Atalon.
But he’d ended up falling asleep instead.
Which meant Aileen had used those sleeping pills on him. In the pancakes, specifically.
Alarmed at that last thought, Ragnor got out of bed and dressed as fast as he could before he left the room.
The lounge was empty. So were the corridors when he hurried to the arena. But before he could reach it, a hand grabbed his wrist, drawing him to a stop.
He turned to see Eliza, staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read. “Follow me,” she said quietly.
“I need to get to the arena,” Ragnor insisted, shaking her off. “The Hecatomb—”
“Come with me,” she cut him off, voice strained with worry. That’s when Ragnor saw the drops of sweat on her forehead, the tightness of her lips, that evident stress in her right eye.
Eliza seemed on the verge of a meltdown.
But why?
“Where’s Aileen?” he asked, having a sinking feeling that she was the source of this uncharacteristic anxiety displayed by Eliza.
She grabbed his wrist again. “Please, Ragnor,” she said, pleading with him, which made Ragnor freeze. “Please, just once, don’t ask questions.”
Heart pounding loudly in his chest, he ignored the terrible feeling creeping into his gut as he followed Eliza. She took him to the Rayne League’s assigned gallery entrance, where they entered and reached the seats occupied by his League members.
His members, much like him, were confused that he was there. “My Lord?” Margarita said, her eyes bloodshot, staring at him in confusion. “What are you ...”
“Oh, shut up, Wallen,” Eliza snapped, and Margarita whirled around to look at her, narrowing her eyes when she saw who had just spoken. Eliza ignored the other woman’s glower and pointed at the arena. “Just watch.”
Renaldi’s voice suddenly echoed in the arena. “Welcome to the battle you’ve all been waiting for!” he called giddily into the mic. “Without further ado, please welcome Lord Ragnor Rayne!”
To his horror, Ragnor watched as a familiar figure walked into the arena. Aileen’s blond hair glinted as she headed to its center, followed by stunned silence from the audience.
Renaldi, too, seemed stunned from his position on the outskirts of the arena. “Err ... umm ... Miss Henderson?” he asked, chuckling weakly. “This is ... um ... You know your battle was yesterday, right?”
On the screen, Ragnor saw Aileen smiling. “I’m here as acting Lady of the Rayne League,” she said.
Ragnor was struck dumb.
“Acting ... Lady?” Renaldi seemed puzzled. “Henderson ... I mean, you are merely a Common member ...”
Another figure appeared in the arena. From the opposite entrance, Atalon walked in, wearing a pleasantly surprised smile. “Never mind that, Renaldi,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “I’ll happily battle Henderson here.”
Ragnor stiffened. “Eliza, let me go,” he said, gritting his teeth.
Eliza’s hold on his wrist tightened. “Trust her,” she whispered. “Trustme.”
Trust Aileen? But—
