Amnan stayed out of sight, but not out of earshot. He waited until the Constable slipped back into the ballroom, leaving Serephone in the hallway. When she began to follow him, Amnan left his hiding spot and intercepted her.

“I forbid it,” he said.

Not the words he’d been intending to say, but now he had to roll with it. Her amber eyes focused on his face, narrowed, expression its usual impassive mask except for the tiny flicker of scorn at the corner of her mouth.

“Forbid what?” she asked, voice flat.

“I heard what your plan is.”

She glanced towards the entrance of the ballroom. “None of your business, princeling.”

He didn’t care for that word in her mouth. Amnan frowned. “My father and I will take care of the problem. Your mother needs—“

“Don’t tell me what my mother needs.” Her voice turned savage, eyes flashing a sudden, brilliant green before dimming back to their regular golden brown. Though he wouldn’t quite call her eyes regular.

“Your mother, your sisters and you, are now my concern. You’re family, and we protect family.”

She studied him. “We’re not the ‘protectin’ kind of females. Get married. Plague your wife.”

Serephone entered the ballroom without another glance at him and Amnan sighed. He’d known she’d brush off a simple, reasonable request. He resigned himself to adding Serephone to his already extensive list of daily tasks.

He found his father, dragging him from the ribald group of dragons toasting the beauty of Maddugh’s bride…very respectfully, of course.

“Isn’t it time you took your mate off for your wedding night, so the rest of us can seek our beds?” He said the words with no small amount of envy. He wanted what his father had, a simple, feisty woman to bed every evening. A friend, and companion, and partner to hunt with. Serephone’s quip about finding a wife hadn’t been far from the mark.

Maddugh clapped him on the back. Amnan just barely kept to his feet, teeth gritted. His father had several centuries of power over him, and enjoyed showing it in these incessant small displays of what Maddugh likely thought were subtle shows of dominance. The addition of females to the household was welcome—it would balance them all. And maybe give his father something to do besides plot on his sons.

“Oh, we had a snack already,” Maddugh said, voice bland. He couldn’t hold the neutral expression long though—not after guzzling a barrel of fine wine. A leer broke through. “If you know what I mean.”

Amnan winced. “Please. Spare me. Father, I’ll need to step away from overseeing the mines for a few weeks. Serephone is up to something.”

Maddugh stroked his imaginary beard. “Mmm. That one will keep a man on his toes.” He eyed Amnan. “Do you truly have an eye on her for yourself?”

“I must be mad. Or bored.”

Maddugh’s hand rose to clap him on the back again. Amnan danced out of the way, expression baleful.

“Well, I’ll rope Nuaddan in to do a little work. It’s about time he stopped licking his wounds.”

“Father.”

“Don’t use that tone on me, boy. Your brother has had enough time to mourn. He needs to live again.”

“Hrutha—“

“Are you mad? Nothing would get done with Hrutha in charge. He’d spend his time redesigning the worker’s uniforms, or other nonsense.”

As much he could say against that—it was true. “He needs a mate as well.”

“I’m not sure I could do that to some poor, unsuspecting female.”

Amnan coughed. “Or male.”

Maddugh ignored him. “A strong back, and bearing hips is all she’d need. A firm voice.”

Amnan stared at him. “That sounds dreadful.”

“She needn’t be pretty—he spends enough time in front of the mirror to make up for it. But, I digress. Do what you need to. Did you have some particular concern in mind?”

“I think she found our stash of humans.”

Maddugh’s expression darkened. “I see.”

“And you know the Constable has been sniffing around, insisting we release the humans to him, so he can follow up. I saw him enter the ballroom ahead of Serephone. I’m certain they’re planning on following that one-armed man's trail.”

“See that they don’t.” Maddugh’s teeth snapped. “I have my own plans.”

Amnan nodded, and went to spend the rest of the evening plaguing his eldest stepsister.

* * *

She waited a handful of days, mostly to give Amnan time to lower his guard and go skulk around someone else, before acting.

“Are you sure about this?” Cinvarra asked for the twelfth time.

Serephone rose from her crouch on the ground. She’d brought her youngest sister with her to set the explosives because Persia would have just wanted to come—Cin wasn’t as adventurous. And was a much better liar, especially with her big, pansy eyes.

“Just make sure no one is hurt, and no expensive property is burnt down,” Serephone said, and picked up her pack from the ground.

Cinvarra nodded, a grin on her lips. Matches rested in the leather pouch on her waist, ready to be set off as soon as Serephone gave the signal. That sneaky, black dragon had been shadowing her for days, making it impossible for her to slip away under her mother’s nose. And time was running out. If she didn’t leave now, the trail would be stone-cold dead by the time she arrived in the Seattle Dome. An airbus was waiting in town, scheduled to leave within two hours. Just enough time for Sere to make the jog, board, and depart. By the time the ruckus here was over, the airbus would be several hours away—and by the time anyone realized Sere was missing, she would be inside the Dome.

Cinvarra grabbed her in a rough hug. Sere allowed it, because her youngest sister was tactile and needed the physical contact. Then she turned and took off in a swift lope through the forest. Serephone went over the plan once more in her head to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. A trail of fuel led to an explosive. The explosive would go off—Cinvarra well clear of the blast radius, and the forest within the perimeter would immediately burn. She’d planted colored powders designed to burn blue and green, and the smoke bombs she’d already detonated had ensured that as many small creatures as possible had fled the blast zone. There was no reason to kill innocent things to escape Amnan.

She’d laid a fire-retardant perimeter around the blast zone to control the spread of the fire. Her mother would likely suspect who the arsonist was—Serephone knew her signature was all over the preparations, a unique mix of chemicals and subtle magic. Hopefully, Maddugh wouldn’t be inclined to send her to the dungeon or a work gang in the mines when she returned—if she returned. There was no illusion that the mission she undertook was safe. But it had to be done.

Maybe a half-mile out, the blast went off. Serephone felt the tug on her magic as the fire-retardant barrier held, and smiled in satisfaction. She’d been working on that particular product for a while. Her plan, when caught, was to tell Maddugh she’d simply been beta testing. After all, before she went to market, she had to have proof it worked. She planned on making a nice profit from traveling to locations where controlled demolition or land clearing was needed to prevent the spread of fire beyond the designated radius.

She put those thoughts out of her mind, increasing her pace. She arrived in town in enough time to purchase a ticket and board the airbus, taking her seat with her eyes constantly scanning the sky for signs of a dragon.

“Must be a forest fire,” someone mentioned.

“Weird colors. That ain’t no regular fire.”

Serephone glanced at the thick plume of colored smoke rising in the distance, and muttered an apology to her mother for disturbing the honeymoon period so early.

* * *

The trip felt long, mostly because she couldn’t allow herself to rest, constantly checking the skies for pursuit. By the time, they landed just outside the Dome, her jaw was sore from constant stiffness. She dug in her pack for her temporary work permit, grimacing as the image of herself on the paperwork looked back accusingly. She’d applied weeks ago for entry to the Dome on the pretext of finding employment in one of the gentlemen’s entertainment establishments. She’d worn one of Cinvarra’s new, pretty, pastel dresses and applied cosmetics to soften the sharp bones of her face. A working girl at Stella’s took the picture and gave her a reference in the city with the assurance that young, beautiful women from good families were always permitted entry. With the picture, and Serephone shamelessly playing on her status as Maddugh’s stepdaughter, the approval had come swiftly.

Because if there was anything better than a young, beautiful woman, it was the possibility that that woman was ‘inexperienced.’

“They’ll snatch you up in a heartbeat,” her contact at Stella’s advised. “They’d rather train a fresh face than hire an experienced gal—the patrons pay premium for good girls.”

Whatever the hell a good girl was. Serephone was less ‘good’ than they knew, but she could pretend to be a fresh-faced country debutante for long enough to slip into the city and then disappear. She didn’t have to report to the work office for four weeks after her arrival to report her attendance and renew her permit. That should be enough time for vengeance or death. She didn’t plan on dying, though, even if the possibility was likely. She wasn’t fool enough to overestimate her chances—a lone individual against a person with unknown but assumed deep pockets and resources. If she’d been completely human she might not have come. But between her magic and the little surprises she had in her pack, Serephone believed she stood a fair chance of achieving her purpose.

Making sure another flesh trafficker never came near her town again.

The airbus approached the Dome. She stared, entranced despite her natural revulsion. Her sperm donor was from this Dome—or so her mother had once said. Serephone remembered his face, though the older she got the more it blurred around the edges. A pale face, framed with the kind of dark blond hair that bordered on brown, but with more of an ash hue that referenced pewter. Bright eyes—blue or green?—and a narrow face a little too pretty for him to be honest. And having disappeared after being caught cheating on his wife—abandoning three young daughters—it demonstrably had been too pretty for honesty. She’d adored her father then, and hated him now. Going to this city to chase down another miscreant was a slap in the face.

Serephone banished those thoughts—the man wasn’t worth any of her emotional energy—and focused on the landscape. The earth outside the Dome was barren, the trees dry twigs, the sun hot and debilitating. On the ground were scattered tents, tanks embedded in the ground, many with snarling dogs on leashes to act as guards. A person here or there, face enclosed in a protective mask, looked up. Most didn’t.

The Outlands. Her mother told stories of working the ground, searching for scraps of metal and tech to sell, fending off enemies intent on stealing someone else’s haul. People who’d spent years in the tents and then fell ill to radiation poisoning. And looming above the desolation was a sparkling, crystal Dome, enclosing an oasis built for the wealthy and their servants. Because if one lived in a Dome and wasn’t rich, then one was employed in a capacity that somehow benefitted the rich.

The line to disembark moved quickly. No one wanted to be in the Outland air long without protective gear, but the airbus wasn’t allowed to land inside the Dome. Agents worked the single entrance, checking the papers of each arrival. Serephone pulled hers out and attempted to fix a wide-eyed, vapid look on her face—Cin did it all the time, so it couldn’t be hard. Her blouse was white with impractical puffed sleeves, the color indicating she didn’t work for a living. Her skirts were a pale blue suitable for an unmarried female, delicate embroidering around the hems. She’d left her hair in a long, loose braid and even placed little pearl studs in her ears.

Her skin was crawling—she couldn’t wait to get back into her real clothing.

The uniformed agent, a lanky man with a bored expression, glanced through her paperwork, gave Serephone a hard once over, then handed her a packet of papers.

“Orientation packet,” he said. “Read it. Tells you what areas you’re allowed to go in—and where you shouldn’t step foot. Don’t go in the non-human quarters without a pass from a Lord, and stay out of the bars and clubs during non-working hours, if you don’t want to be assaulted.”

She blinked rapidly. “Oh, yes, of course. Thank you.”

He need her. “Got something in your eye? Eye wash station in ladies’ room once you get inside the station.”

Maybe she’d overdone the lash fluttering.