Page 40 of Magick and Lead
Essa hadn’t killed me yet, but from the fire in her eyes, I could tell she still wanted to.
She sat across from me now in my cramped kitchenette. Like a true bachelor, I had basically no food in the house, so I’d called down to the bar on the corner and ordered us dinner.
Essa opened the to-go box and eyed it with suspicion.
“What is this?”
“Patty melt,” I said, already taking a bite of mine. When she looked confused, I added, “Cow meat, cheese, and bread. This place is famous for them.”
“And these?” she frowned, pointing into the box.
“Fries.”
“Why the blood?”
I laughed, nearly choking on my sandwich. “Ketchup. It’s a sauce—to dip the fries in. Just try it, trust me.”
She shot me a glare, then picked up a fry as if it were a tiny snake that might twist around and bite her. She took a small, exploratory bite, then grunted approvingly, dipped it into the ketchup, and took another bite. Her eyes lit up.
“See. Told ya,” I said.
“Mmm,” the moan that rose from her when she bit into the patty melt made me flash back to our night together in the dragon cave on Dorhane. Her body writhing beneath me, my fist tangled in her hair, our bodies slick with wanting, our lips and tongues?—
“What?” she demanded.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Oh…” I felt my face going red. “It’s… nothing. I was just… remembering.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Remembering what? When you lied about who you were? When you stole a dragon egg from our sacred Hatchery? When you made me think you believed in me—when really you were just trying to undermine the Skrathan by making the worst, weakest rider their Irska?”
I winced. “Essa…”
She raised a hand in my face, silencing me. “No,” she said. “No more lies. Understand this: I am here because you claim you can get me close to Kortoi. That’s it. I’m using you—just as you used me. And when Kortoi is lying dead at my feet, we are enemies again. Is that clear?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Wow. You really do sound like a queen.”
“Spare me your patronizing compliments,” she muttered, tearing into her sandwich like a lioness into prey.
“I am sorry, though, Essa. Truly.” I said. “If I could?—”
She slammed her fist on the table, staring daggers at me. I had no doubt her real dagger might make an appearance again soon, too, if I didn’t shut up.
I put my hands up in surrender and glanced around, looking for a way to change the subject. “Here, have you ever heard a radio before?”
She seemed confused, so I walked over to the radio cabinet and turned it on. It hissed and crackled for a moment, then the low voice of the newscaster came on.
Reports tell us that our troops have made substantial gains in both the central and southern portions of the front, but at a heavy cost. Today alone, seventy-six soldiers were wounded and a hundred and eleven?—
“Stop it,” Essa said, looking horrified. “What sort of scrying is this?”
“It’s just a radio,” I assured her, twisting the knob to change the station. The next one was more news.
A Maethalian peace delegation has been meeting with President Ramos for the past three days. Though few details about the negotiations have been shared, some observers have been surprised by how much progress is reportedly taking place, especially given Ramos’s hardline stance on the war that has plagued both nations for generations. Some give credit to the Maethalian delegation, headed by a little-known religious figure called Prelate Kortoi.
“That’s him,” Essa said excitedly. “Maybe they’ll tell us where to find him…”
