Chapter Seventeen
Sunday, Bryn was happy to find herself at Suzette’s without Jaxon, watching Lillith and the other Blue women ooh and ahh over baby clothes. It made the normally cold and standoffish Blues seem far more human and likable.
And the pie was awesome. Bryn dug into her third piece of cherry pie, while her grandmother handed another gift to Lillith. It seemed her grandmother and Lillith had become friends, which was nice and terrifying at the same time. Nice because Lillith seemed like she needed friends, and terrifying because it implied to all present that they were working at cementing an alliance between the two families, aka the nightmare marriage between her and Jaxon.
Valmont stood on guard off to the side, with a polite smile plastered on his face.
“Isn’t this adorable?” Lillith held out a tiny tuxedo.
A tuxedo for a baby? Seriously? There was even a tiny bow tie. Poor kid. If Clint thought penguin suits were uncomfortable now, what would they be like for a baby?
Bryn leaned over and spoke to the woman next to her. “Can you really get a baby to wear one of those?”
“Of course.” She seemed shocked by the question.
No wonder Jaxon and his friends acted so stiff and formal. It had been drummed into them since birth.
Lillith unwrapped Bryn’s present next.
“Oh, Bryn, I love it.” She held out the silver rattle with Westgate engraved down the side so everyone could see.
Warmth bloomed in Bryn’s chest, somewhat filling the gaping hole left by her parents death. If she had to marry Jaxon, at least she’d gain Lillith as a mother-in-law. Oh, holy hell, are there drugs in the cherry pie? How’d I think that without flinching?
She smiled at Lillith. “I’m glad you like it.”
“You know, if things turn out like we expect, you could receive one of these one day.” Lillith beamed.
Bryn opened her mouth to object, vehemently and with great gusto and many obscenities, at the idea of giving birth to Jaxon’s children. It was bad enough she’d thought about marrying him, but having his kids deserved a whole other level of freaking out. Then she realized every woman in the room was staring at her. She swallowed her, over-my-dead-body response, and said, “It is a possibility.”
Her grandmother nodded, but Bryn didn’t know whether it was a response to how Bryn had handled the situation or if she was nodding in agreement. She ate two more pieces of pie to quell the instinct to run screaming from the room.
After the last present was opened, the guests said their good-byes. Bryn found herself drafted into the role of hostess as she thanked everyone for coming. Lillith glowed, and her grandmother beamed almost as much. Valmont stood off to the side, with his lips set in a thin line. She didn’t think it was the baby shower that annoyed him. Ever since Lillith had made the remark about Bryn receiving a rattle with Westgate engraved on it, Valmont’s expression had seemed frozen, like he was trying not to show emotion.
She wouldn’t be too happy about listening to him talk about marrying someone else and having children. Once the last person was gone, Bryn started to pack up the gifts.
“Don’t worry about that,” her grandmother said. “We’ll have everything packed and shipped to Westgate Estates.”
Lillith clutched a small blue robe embroidered with snowflakes to her chest. “I’m holding on to this one.” She held it out. “It’s so cute.”
And here came the tears. Lillith wiped her face. “Sorry.”
“I’m surprised you managed to hold out this long,” Bryn teased, in a good-natured way.
The sound of someone clearing her throat caught Bryn’s attention. Valmont’s grandmother stood in the doorway, looking as cuddly as a porcupine. She nodded at Bryn’s grandmother and then spoke to Valmont in Italian and held her arms out like she was waiting for a hug.
His features softened. “I’ve missed you, too.” He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his grandmother.
Guilt hit Bryn between the eyes. She was the reason Valmont saw his family so infrequently.
“Come outside, Valmont, your grandfather wishes to see you.”
Valmont had been given special consideration by being allowed into the back room. He’d had to swear never to divulge the secret that there was a second, more peaceful room in the establishment. He could’ve met his grandfather in the floral farce room, but being outside would probably be nicer.
Valmont glanced back at Bryn, his expression conflicted.
“Go visit. I’ll be fine in here for a while.” Bryn made shooing motions with her hands.
“Mrs. Sinclair?” Valmont said. “Do you mind?”
“Bryn and I will wait for you here,” her grandmother said.
“Thank you.” Valmont headed out the door with his grandmother.
Watching him ask her grandmother for permission to do something struck a nerve. It placed him in the employee position, which he wasn’t. Actually an employee would be paid. He was volunteering. Crap. That idea made her feel worse.
“What’s wrong?” her grandmother asked.
Bryn shrugged. “I know he doesn’t mind, but I feel bad about taking Valmont away from his family.”
“He is devoted to you, isn’t he?” Lillith said. “After you marry, I guess he’ll go back to his real life.”
If anyone else had uttered those words, Bryn would have had the mother of all hissy fits. Since it was Lillith, and her intentions were never suspect, Bryn took a deep breath and pushed down the flames trying to crawl up the back of her throat. “That’s one way to look at it.”
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow in challenge. “How else would you look at it?”
Bryn sighed. She’d walked right into that one. “I don’t like to think about a time when Valmont won’t be there for me. Right now he’s such a comfort.”
“Once you’re married to Jaxon, you won’t need anyone else to look out for you,” Lillith said.
“You have no idea how much those words make my head hurt,” Bryn blurted out.
Both of her grandmother’s eyebrows shot up.
“Please. It’s just us. I can be honest. Neither of you are delusional enough to believe I find Jaxon’s presence comforting.”
“Reassuring might be a better description,” her grandmother said.
“He would protect you from all threats,” Lillith objected. “And that should be comforting.”
She couldn’t argue with a pregnant woman, especially one who might burst into tears at any moment so she said, “I never thought of it that way.” There. She had finally found a use for the social double-speak her grandmother taught her to use when you couldn’t disagree with someone.
On the ride back to school, Valmont was oddly quiet.
“How are your grandparents?” Bryn asked.
A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’re fine.”
Guilt rained down on her. “You could ask them to come visit you on campus,” Bryn said.
He reached over, and despite her grandmother’s presence in car, laced his warm fingers through hers. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” she asked.
“Stop worrying about me,” Valmont said. “It’s my job to worry about you.”
Easier said than done.
…
Monday morning Bryn was up and out of bed before her alarm went off. A strange sense of anticipation tingled under her skin.
“How much coffee have you had?” Valmont asked as she bounced in her chair at breakfast.
“My normal two cups. Why?”
“You’re like a Mexican jumping bean this morning.” Clint yawned wide enough for Bryn to see his molars.
“Wait a minute.” Ivy looked over her shoulder at the tables where the Blues congregated. “Look at them. They’re talking with their hands and laughing and fidgeting.”
Valmont tilted his head and studied the Blues. “They’re acting like normal people. And that’s not normal for them.”
“I’ve got it.” A huge grin broke out on Clint’s face. “It’s going to snow.”
Just the mention of the word had Bryn bouncing in her seat. “What? How do you know that?”
Valmont laughed. “I should have guessed when you woke up before the alarm. I was too tired to think clearly.”
What were they talking about? “I don’t understand. Blues get wound up when it snows?” She observed Jaxon. He spoke with his hands, gesturing wildly in a manner she’d never seen before. “Yeah, that’s not right.”
“It’s puppy weather.” Clint sat up straighter like he’d made some sort of decree.
Valmont narrowed his gaze. “Please explain that so I can decide if I should be offended on Bryn’s behalf.”
Clint leaned in and spoke in a low voice. “It reminds me of how our dogs act when the weather changes. No matter how old they are, on the first cool day, they run around chasing each other and acting like puppies. Therefore, cool weather that hypes them up is puppy weather, and the first snow is puppy weather for the Blues.”
Valmont grinned at Bryn. “I kind of like it.”
“Puppies are cute, so it doesn’t bother me.” Bryn peered out the windows checking for white flakes. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay attention to anything today. Will this happen every time it snows? My grade point average might take a nosedive.”
“It’s usually just the first snow.” Valmont pointed to the windows. “And here it comes.”
Bryn’s breath caught as she watched fat white flakes drift through the air. She needed to go outside, to touch it, to glide, to exalt in the wonderfulness that was winter. Okay, that last thought was weird. Whatever. She thrust her book bag at Ivy. “Hold this for me.” And then she was up and out of her seat and headed for the door.
Valmont followed along behind her, chuckling.
Bryn glanced back at him and stuck her tongue out. “Don’t mock me. I can’t help it. It feels like Christmas morning and my birthday and a shoe sale all rolled into one.”
A dozen Blues made it outside before she did. When she stepped into the air and felt the snowflakes swirling around her skin, she shifted.
“Not without me,” Valmont put a hand on her flank.
“Of course not.” Once he was in place, she pushed off, flapping her wings and heading straight up into the sky. The snow was thicker the higher they went. The flakes skimmed along her scales like a caress. If the snow came down heavier, she wanted to roll in it on the ground. Wait a minute. Now she did sound like a puppy.
“Not too far,” Valmont warned.
“Hang on tight.” She twisted mid-air and dove toward the ground in a corkscrew spiral.
When she was a dozen feet from the ground, she banked right and zipped back up again altering her path to avoid the other Blues who had taken to the air. In the back of her mind, she thought about how it was strange that none of them were vying for territory or insisting they had the right of way. They were just enjoying themselves. Why couldn’t it be like this all the time?
After a few more looping rolls and dives, Valmont said, “Clint and Ivy are walking to class if you plan to join them.”
Nooooooo. “All I want to do is fly.”
“Doesn’t matter to me, but Mr. Stanton might mind.”
Maybe Blues got a pass on the first snowy day. That would be the right thing for the Institute to do. Declare it a holiday, or a snow day, like they used to have at her old school.
No such luck. The Blues around her all headed toward the ground and shifted. Dang it.
“I reserve the right to pout about this.” Bryn swooped low to the ground and flew toward the science building. She landed a few feet from Clint and Ivy, and crouching low, she used her wings to try and balance her landing. She tipped forward a bit and had to shuffle her feet, but all in all it wasn’t an awful landing.
“Not bad,” Clint said. “I was afraid you were going to do a face plant in the snow.”
After Valmont dismounted, she shifted back to human form.
Ivy passed off her book bag. “Feel better?”
“Yes, but I’d still rather fly.” Bryn entered the door Valmont held open for her. “I wonder if I could convince my grandmother that we need to declare the first snow day a holiday.”
“You have my vote,” Ivy said. “Any reason for a day off of school works for me.”
Once they were seated in Mr. Stanton’s class, the restlessness Bryn felt earlier dissipated. She still felt oddly cheery. Would snow always put her in a good mood? That would be a bonus.
The door to the adjoining classroom which was used as a storage closet opened, and Mr. Stanton came out accompanied by a man Bryn didn’t recognize. He had the dark hair and dark skin of a Green dragon, but the look in his hazel eyes wasn’t one of curiosity like most Greens. It was more like suspicion.
Were they having a guest lecturer? While Bryn studied the stranger, she realized he was taking note of every student in the room. One by one, he was making eye contact with each student looking them up and down. Not in a creepy, I-think-you’re-cute way, but in an I-might-have-to-kill-you-if-you-annoy-me kind of way.
The sound of metal sliding against metal caught Bryn’s attention. Valmont had drawn his sword. Gaze locked with the stranger’s, he held the sword down to the side, like he was relaxed, but she could see the tension in the roped muscles of his neck.
The stranger grinned. “Don’t worry, Knight. I’m not here for your dragon.”
“I’m not worried,” Valmont’s tone was calm, even, and oddly threatening. “I’m giving you fair warning.”
“You are delusional,” the stranger said, “if you think your presence here concerns me.”
Fire banked in Bryn’s chest. Whoever this guy was, she didn’t like him. “You have more than my knight to worry about.”
“Bryn, calm down. Akbar is here by order of the Directorate. He is gathering information,” Mr. Stanton said. “Nothing more.”
“What sort of information?” Jaxon asked.
“I have a gift.” Akbar continued to scan each student, studying them like he was waiting for one of them to mutate into a demon or something. “I can see what you don’t want me to see.” He pointed at Clint. “Say what you want to say. I can tell you have a remark to make which you think is clever.”
Clint leaned back in his seat like he wasn’t annoyed at being called out. “I’ve never met a Green who hoarded his intelligence. Some of them act annoyed or superior when they have to explain something, but none of them act…cryptic and judgmental and what’s the word—stalker-ish, maybe?”
The atmosphere in the room shifted as the students seemed to realize Akbar could represent a threat.
“You never answered my question,” Jaxon spoke in a superior my-father-is-the-head-of-the-Directorate tone. “Why are you studying us? What are you looking for?”
“A liar.” Akbar continued to scan the students until he landed on Octavius. “And I believe I’ve found him.”
A low growl came from Octavius’s throat. It was echoed by his mate Vivian. Bryn and several other students also growled.
Akbar approached Octavius. “We need to talk. Come with me.”
“Under whose authority do you demand my cooperation?” Octavius asked.
“The Directorate’s,” Akbar said.
“Then you should have papers,” Jaxon said, “proving you are here on official Directorate business.”
Akbar whipped around to face Jaxon. “I don’t need papers.”
Bryn stood. “If a Westgate says you need papers for Directorate business, then you need papers. Either show us the documents or get out.”
Mr. Stanton stood there, not speaking, not intervening, not doing much of anything. What was wrong with him? Wait a minute. Was he smiling? Suspicion tickled Bryn’s brain. “Teachers don’t normally let guest speakers attack students. Is this some sort of test?”
Akbar’s expression completely changed. His narrowed eyes widened. The hard flat line of his mouth softened and turned into a smile. “Well done, Bryn. And well done to the rest of you, too.”
Clint raised his hand. “What just happened?”
Akbar leaned back against the desk and chuckled. “What happened is something I’ve been writing my thesis on. You all just proved it. Since the attacks, and since students were injured and have actually come back to school, Clan boundaries have softened. Your father, when he was a student here at the Institute,” he pointed at Jaxon, “would never have stepped forward to defend someone from another Clan.”
“You don’t know that.” Jaxon looked as pissed-off as ever.
“Actually, this study has been done for many years by different scientists, and the results have always been the same. Your father didn’t object to a student being removed for questioning. No one did. None of them realized it was a test. They assumed it was business as usual.”
“Why did you pick me?” Octvious asked. He sounded as furious as Jaxon looked.
“You are a minority with the fewest Clan members to come to your defense,” Akbar said. “So you were the perfect choice.”
Octavius nodded like the answer satisfied him.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a thesis to complete.” Akbar headed out the door.
Later that afternoon in Basic Movement, Jaxon came toward Bryn with a smile on his face.
“Is it me, or is that smile annoying as hell?” Valmont asked Clint.
“It’s not just you,” Clint responded.
Bryn moved to intercept Jaxon before a battle of words ensued. She’d had quite enough conflict this morning, thank you very much, so she walked over to meet him. “Hey, Jaxon. What’s up?”
“What you said, this morning in Mr. Stanton’s class, did you mean that?”
“I said a lot of things. What are you talking about?”
“That if I said something about Directorate protocol, I was right.”
Where is he going with this? Bryn shrugged. “You’ve lived and breathed dragon politics since you were a kid. I figured you knew what you were talking about.”
“It’s good that you can acknowledge my superior intellect in these situations.”
Bryn’s mouth dropped open and then she laughed. Was he looking for some sort of ego boost? “Sure, you are superior in your knowledge of Directorate laws. Does that make you happy?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I still fly faster than you.” She couldn’t let him get away with feeling too smug.
“I’m better with a sword.” He tapped his chin like he was thinking. “That makes the score two to one in my favor.”
What was he doing? “Sure. Two to one. Your favor. Go celebrate.” With that, she turned back to Valmont, Clint, and Ivy who were standing by the treadmills.
Valmont stood stiff, shoulders back, staring at Jaxon with suspicion. “What was that?”
“He was all happy that I said he was the dictionary of Directorate law.” Bryn shrugged. “I don’t know what it was about.”
“More like the douchebag of Directorate law,” Valmont shot back.
Clint and Ivy laughed.
“No argument there,” Bryn said. Although she couldn’t help thinking that what Jaxon had done in Mr. Stanton’s class showed he was a far better person than Ferrin, and for that she gave him a certain amount of respect, which seemed to annoy her knight.
“Are you worried I’ll be wooed by his obnoxious holier-than-thou charm?” Bryn asked. “Because that isn’t going to happen.”
“Of course not,” Valmont said, but there was an edge to his tone, which was only slightly less sharp than the blade strapped to his thigh.
Ivy clapped her hands. “Enough drama, people. It’s time to joust.”
A nervous, sick feeling pooled in Bryn’s stomach. “I don’t want to.” She hadn’t taken a turn on the joust since she’d been shish kabob-ed earlier in the year.
“A javelin through the thigh does have that effect on a person,” Clint said.
“But,” Valmont took her hand and pulled her toward the line, “sometimes you have to face your fears to overcome them.”
“I don’t suppose I could walk around my fears or ignore them?” She did a bob and weave maneuver to illustrate her point.
Valmont shook his head. “No.”
“Damn.” Bryn glanced at the pit with the foam blocks. Sweat beaded along her hairline as she remembered the wrenching ripping pain of the javelin driving through her thigh…all the way through. The image of the javelin tip protruding from her flesh featured in her nightmares on a regular basis.
Mrs. Anderson stood across the pit. “Bryn,” she spoke in her loud teacher-voice, which rang throughout the gym, “I was wondering when you’d be ready to joust again.”
Anyone who hadn’t noticed Bryn turned to stare. Students already in line eyed Bryn like they expected her to cut and run or make some sort of argument. Both of those options sounded better than actually jousting again, but she’d be damned if she let them know that. Apparently, Blue dragon pride trumped common sense.
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Anderson added, “I cleaned out the pits and replaced the foam blocks this morning. Nothing pointy is waiting for you if you fall.”
“Good to know.” She’d just have to make sure she didn’t fall, ever.
Bryn climbed the ladder to the jousting platform, making sure to keep a calm expression on her face. This wasn’t a big deal. She’d jousted dozens of times. Nothing bad had happened. The sharp pointy metal javelin through her thigh had been a fluke. It wouldn’t happen again.
Once she reached the platform, she grabbed the jousting stick and did a few practice swings. Not a problem. She glanced at the foam pit below and fear banked the fire in her gut. She focused on snow and cold. Smoke drifting from her nostrils would give her fear away. Frost was a lot harder for any of those watching from down below to see.
“Are we jousting or not?” Her opponent, a Red female Bryn didn’t recognize, called out from the other platform.
Bryn planted her feet hip-width apart for better balance. “Let’s go.”
The Red swung, and Bryn blocked before delivering a blow of her own. The other girl wobbled and then struck at Bryn’s knees. Shuffling her feet, Bryn maintained her balance and swung at the girl’s hips. They traded blow after blow, with neither of them making much progress or giving an inch.
The girl swung widely and clipped Bryn’s temple, making her head ring. What the hell? That was out of bounds, and two could play at that game. Bryn thrust her jousting stick low between the girl’s calves and yanked sideways, lifting the girl’s left foot off the platform, causing her to pitch sideways, lose her balance, and take a header into the pit of foam blocks below.
From her perch, Bryn watched as the girl snarled up at her. For a second, it looked like her eyes flashed dark brown before returning to their normal shade of green. Bryn froze. Was this girl a Red-Black hybrid, or was it a trick of the light?
Bryn scrambled down the ladder and ran to the foam pit, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Valmont slung his arm around her shoulders.
Creeped out that she might have run across an unfriendly hybrid, Bryn leaned into his warmth for comfort and because it gave her a chance to whisper, “I think that girl may have been like me.”
Valmont didn’t respond right away. Maybe he didn’t get it.
“Black and Red,” Bryn whispered. “And none too friendly.”
“Then we need to find her.”
“I don’t see her.” Bryn scanned the gym, but there was no sign of the girl. “Can you spot her?
“No. Maybe we should ask Mrs. Anderson if she knows who it was.”
A quick check with Mrs. Anderson didn’t provide any answers. Bryn filled in Clint and Ivy.
“I didn’t pay much attention to your opponent.” Clint scratched his head. “In fact, I don’t pay much attention to a lot of people. I file them away by Clan unless I know them. Why does that suddenly make me feel like a jerk?”
“I think the enemy is counting on us acting like that,” Ivy said. “Since it’s the way we’ve always acted.”
“According to Akbar’s experiment with Octavius, we’re not acting the way dragons have always acted,” Bryn said.
Clint touched his forehead. “Thinking big thoughts is making my head hurt.”
Ivy bumped him with her hip. “Be serious. We need to figure this out.”
“We’re not going to figure it out here,” Bryn whispered. “Let’s meet in my room tonight to do homework and see what we can come up with.”
…
After dinner, Clint and Ivy followed Bryn and Valmont back to their room.
“We’re not really doing homework, are we?” Clint asked as Ivy pulled a notebook from her book bag.
“I am.” Ivy fished a pen from the bottom of the bag. “I’m guessing you’re going to stick with your standard wait-until-the-last-minute routine.”
“How well you know me.” Clint sat on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Okay,” Bryn sat on the other end of the couch while Valmont stretched out on the floor, “let’s make a list of ways the students are acting differently and what that might mean.”
“Mean to whom?” Valmont asked.
“Good question.” Bryn tapped her pen on the paper. “Some of this will tick off the Directorate. Some of it will tick off whoever has been attacking campus.”
“If the Clan boundaries are softening, that isn’t a bad thing,” Valmont said. “Being friendlier toward each other doesn’t hurt anything, right?”
“I wonder if Jaxon would agree with that statement.” Clint stared up at the ceiling. “He helped Octavius, but if someone had told him his actions would undermine the Blues’ status, I’m not sure he would have.”
The instinct to defend Jaxon reared up inside Bryn. What the hell is that about? And why was Valmont studying her like he was waiting for her to do exactly that? Maybe she needed to throw him a bone. “I’m not sure, either.”
Valmont’s posture relaxed. What is up with him? Is he jealous? That was ridiculous. Then again, she was slated to marry Jaxon. If Valmont acted chummy with a girl he was supposed to end up with, she wouldn’t love it, either. She’d have to be more careful around him. Being loyal to her knight was more important than being friends with Jaxon.
They talked in circles for the next hour while they finished homework. At eight o’clock, Ivy shut her notebook and smiled triumphantly. “All done.”
Clint stood and stretched. “Good, then you can help me with mine.”
Bryn laughed.
Ivy packed her book bag. “That’s not how it works.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.” Clint grabbed her book bag and then held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Right.” Ivy rolled her eyes but let him pull her up and lead her toward the terrace exit. “Goodnight, guys.”
“Goodnight.” Bryn locked the window behind her friends and returned to find Valmont had moved to the couch. She plopped down beside him. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” He sidled closer and put his arm around her shoulders.
Leaning into him was a habit now. It felt right. She closed her eyes and let the stress of the day drain away.
Valmont cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”