Adda inspected the audience chamber. Her feet sunk into the thick golden runner that led to a dais at the far end of the room. Piles of books and awkwardly placed shelves littered the floor, lit by the morning sun that streamed in from the tall east-facing windows. One particular pile of books had toppled across the carpet, forcing her and Scet to step over the mess.
Did no one clean up this chamber? A layer of dust sat everywhere, it rose up as they stepped forward, tickling her nostrils. Where were the servants...or guards? The entire room was conspicuously free of people, except the man that sat on the chair on the dais, head propped up on his hand, leafing through a book.
There was, Adda decided, no end to the oddity of the Amber Aerie.
Hardly had she and Scet passed through the gates and they had been summoned by the Archon, himself. Shifters, in the audience chamber. A place that, traditionally, Shifters were forbidden.
She pulled at the black shimmering gown that clung too tightly to her skin. She had been overwhelmed by her sister shortly after the summons, Lis hardly saying hello before dragging her away to the baths and preening her for their audience. Lis, worried about dresses...it was as if the world had turned upside down. And the dress, itself, was magnificent, she couldn't picture Lis caring to own something so fine.
Once, Adda might have been impressed, but after weeks of fighting for her life, and the loose skin clothing of Scet's new pack, the dress felt tight and restrictive. Nerves clutched at her stomach.
A warm hand met hers and squeezed. She looked up at Scet.
Gods he was a handsome man. His face was clear of stubble and he had even trimmed his hair. His hazel eyes were sharp and curious, but he did not look as if the summons worried him. He had found clothes, too, and, unlike what Adda had grown used to seeing him in, these fit him perfectly. A black silken shirt with elbow-length sleeves and tied with a band of black silk at his waist. His pants, a soft looking material, were a few shades lighter, more gray than black. The whole ensemble was topped with a pair of new boots, and the overall effect was devastating.
He quirked an eyebrow at her, the corner of his lip lifting slightly, and she realized she had been staring.
The Archon coughed.
Even with her barrier up, the man could read her. Something about the pure lust on her face, no doubt. It would help if Scet had taken the time since the swamp to repeat their lovemaking. He had been attentive, nearly to smothering, but hadn't shared his body. Of course, her deep horrible sobbing through the night might have deterred him...
They had come to the dais without her realizing it, she'd been too busy admiring Scet. She turned her attention to the leader of the Aerie's Dragon Lords, chastising herself for her foolishness.
In front of her sat a middle aged man with longer black hair, silvered at the temples and tied, strictly, back against his nape. Amber eyes assessed her frankly.
She would have expected more lavish dress from such a ruler. This man wore a sleeveless chocolate robe that was bound at his waist with a shimmering amber sash. It covered hints of rather plain looking clothing that hid beneath and a pair of velvet...slippers?
“Welcome back,” the Archon smiled at Scet and stood, gesturing that they should join him on the dais.
Again, Adda scanned the chamber. He had to have guards somewhere. Even the Archon, powerful as he was, wouldn't be immune to every attack.
And said guards would definitely not want Shifters so close to their leader. The races had a mistrustful relationship at best...didn't they? Scet rose up the stairs while she was thinking, tugging on her hand gently to encourage her to follow.
Maybe she had spent too much time with Nex, but she couldn't help but think of this Archon as a trusting fool.
Nex.
Grief constricted her chest and she forced a deep breath, digging deep within herself for strength. He had made his choices and she had made hers, but all she could remember was the pain he had tried to protect her from, right up until the end.
“Strale has given me a full report of your recent...activities,” the Archon continued, oblivious to Adda's internal suffering.
She frowned.
Morakamouth had fled the forest after she had destroyed the orb. Strale had let him flee, deciding, instead, to aid the Shifters. It hadn't been necessary—every Quatori within a large radius was dead—but she appreciated his priorities. Vou had never shown up.
Of course, the golden Lord had reported to his Archon. It wasn't a surprise, but she couldn't help feeling that the fewer who knew about, well, everything from the last few weeks, the better. She might be free from possession now, but not everyone would believe she was innocent. Illaise had proved that, and several of Scet's new pack had driven the point home with their continued distant and suspicious attitudes.
Not to mention the problem of the orb. Adda knew its true purpose now, and items that powerful had no business existing in her world.
That part she hadn't shared with Strale, the part where the legendary orb, the weapon, wasn't really a weapon at all, it was a portal between realms. The only one she had shared that knowledge with was Scet. And now she could see her judgment had been correct.
Dragons were a power hungry race, and Adda remembered the cave paintings too well. The orb she had destroyed was not the only one.
She had kept that little tid bit of knowledge completely to herself, for now. Scet had seen the paintings, too. He would put it together eventually, if he hadn't already. Maybe by then she will have decided what she wanted to do about it.
Part of her screamed to be left alone. She had done enough, she had played her roll. Another part of her knew better.
“If he can be believed, then it appears you have done the forest, and therefore this Aerie, a great service.”
Scet had reached the top of the stairs and the Archon watched Adda join him with a sharp expression.
He knew.
Just what he knew, Adda couldn't say. The man was canny, not in the slippery way the old Alpha had been, but the Archon was definitely plotting.
“As a reward,” he continued, “I, of course, offer you both a position in the Aerie.” He held up a hand before either she or Scet could speak. “Dynarys has informed me that you will refuse this, since you are now an Alpha in your own right.”
“He would be correct, Lord Archon,” Scet nodded respectfully.
“And you, Adda?” the Archon turned, eyeing her once more.
Adda blinked. She had expected Scet's answer to cover them both. Did the Archon somehow know they weren't mated...that Scet hadn't even touched her since that night in the forest.
She tamped down the uncertainty tickling her chest and looked at Scet. He watched her, too, his expression carefully neutral. Did he even care what she chose?
Maybe he didn't care. Flitting memories of Bakkus and his pretty words pushed that uncertain feeling higher. No. Scet was not Bakkus. He had proved that in multiple ways, the least of which was staying with her despite her possession.
Maybe he had just changed his mind. Six new he had enough reason to.
“I will consider it, Lord Archon,” she answered at last.
Scet said nothing, just stood perfectly still.
“Very good. And since you have refused my offer, Scet, I will make you another.”
The Archon paced back to his velvet chair and to a pile of books stacked as high as the arm-rests that resided next to it. He caressed the spines lovingly and selected the third one down, a green volume with intricate gold leafing. When he returned, he handed it to Scet, who reached out for it automatically, a confused crease between his brows.
“An Accounting of the Legendary Shifters of the War. One of my predecessors was an avid collector of books. I discovered this one a few days ago and I thought it might be more meaningful for you to have...given your recent...changes.”
Adda sucked in a breath, suddenly scrutinizing the Audience chamber more closely. The book was priceless. If the rest of the texts were anywhere near as valuable, perhaps this Archon did, indeed, surround himself with opulence.
She wasn't the only one impressed.
“Thank you, Lord Archon,” Scet whispered, suitably awed.
“To alliances?” the Archon asked.
“To alliances.”
***
Adda watched the branches across the small garden path. They waved in the evening breeze, the red-haired pods at the branch tips bouncing precariously. Roucou, she recalled from what Lis had once taught her, and parts of the pods, or maybe it was the seeds inside, could be used to make a bright red dye.
Even in this covered garden meant for the Dragon Mates to enjoy, the plants of this Aerie served multiple purposes. It was a beautiful and bright place her sister had found to call home.
And Adda didn't belong there.
It had been three days since the audience with the Archon, and all Adda had seen were light happy halls and rooms, perfect gardens, and beautiful potted fruit trees. Lis didn't seem to notice—no one seemed to notice, actually—that there were very few dark places.
She was beginning to envy Scet, who, after reporting to the Aerie's Alpha and giving the man news that Illaise, his mother, had perished, had spent most of his days in the forest beyond the Aerie walls.
There was room for shadows in the forest.
But was there room for her?
She tried not to drag up the memories, the promises Scet had made. Tried not to remember that not a single one had encompassed more than shared passion and promised protection. He hadn't asked her to share his life. And why would he, when she was so intimately linked with evil?
Kiskan was no help. She had been assigned, or had assigned herself, it was unclear, to guard Adda even among the Aerie's pack and Lords. And so she stood, a constant glowering force wherever Adda went, no doubt bored silly by the lack of any form of action. Adda had asked her if Scet had said anything regarding her and the stubborn woman had resolutely stated that she wasn't getting into her Alpha's personal business.
“You're frowning. Again,” Lis noted from the bench next to Adda.
Adda blinked up at her sister a little sheepishly. Lis had been chatting on about friends, of all things. Adda was still trying to adjust to the fact that Lis had a pack of her own, if a little mixed in terms of race. She was accepted, and she hadn't needed Adda to pave the way for her, which was likely for the best, since Adda could hardly manage herself anymore.
What she needed was a deep dark place where she could feel the comfort of the shadows.
“You aren't staying, are you?” Lis asked. She had always been quick to pick up on Adda's intentions, still was apparently, even if their link no longer existed.
“I can't stay,” Adda agreed, her eyes roving the garden once more, restless. She would keep honesty between her and her sister for as long as she was able—already she felt the pull of the orb and its true purpose—but Lis would want to help her. Adda trusted her sister, but she didn't want Lis following where she was coming to understand she needed to go. Plus, she had formed a link with her mate; Adda might trust Lis, but a Dragon Lord was another question.
“I've changed, Lis, in some fundamental way. I don't belong here now, I don't know if I belong anywhere.”
“Not even with Scet?”
Adda blinked at her sister.
“I might not be the best at social situations, Adda, but even I can see the way that man looks at you, and how you look back.” Lis paused for a moment. “His link with Gayriel is broken completely. She came to me about it, thinking there was something wrong with her ba...er...health. I suspect it broke when he developed feelings for you.”
Adda frowned again.
“I'm not sure he does have feelings for me,” she admitted, “he hasn't said anything about it since I broke the possession. I have no proof he wants anything except our one shared night.” And it hurt to think about, because Lis was right. Somewhere among the attempts on her life and her struggle for freedom, she had developed feelings for him.
“And you think this because he hasn't used pretty words?” Lis raised her brows. A healthy glow emanated from her skin, and despite her current expression, it was obvious that she was happy here with her mate.
“You don't?”
“Scet is not Bakkus, Adda, he is not a man made of words. He is a man of action. What do his actions tell you?”
Adda nibbled a thumbnail. He had been quiet and yet supportive since the temple, ensuring Adda had every comfort—she glanced at Kiskan—and protection. He was caring for her, as an Alpha would care for his mate.
“How can I be sure? Why wouldn't he say?”
Lis shrugged, “You can't be sure, and maybe he hasn't said because you've been...different. It's as if you're in deep mourning, Adda, not celebrating your life and freedom. Maybe he thinks you have change your mind.”
Adda groaned. She hadn't even thought of that...and she was mourning Nex, more than she would have expected to, and her time spent moping and crying very likely made him hesitate.
“You're right.”
As much as she hated the thought of putting herself in a vulnerable position, she was going to have to speak to Scet and ask him outright. She stood, with the intention of seeking him out right then.
Lis's hand shot out, grabbing Adda's wrist.
“There is something more that you should know. The poisoned man your pack brought with you, he recovers.”
Adda met Lis's concerned gaze. “That is not good?”
“He should have died instantly, I cannot explain why he did not. I know the poison used and it is exceptionally potent. But even if, by some miracle of the Six, he managed to hold to life after the initial poisoning, he should have died in my workshop three days ago for lack of food and water. He is not only recovering without the aid of either...he is beginning to waken.”