Littered with debris, the waters bordering the perimeter of Martelli Mansion had lost their azure shade. The Sea of Tranquility looked everything but serene this close to the house. In the distance, though, the jewel tones of the ocean shone bright again.

Looking at the sea, Dragon couldn’t help but hope that a solution to all his problems loomed close, because at the moment, fate didn’t seem to favor him.

Valerian’s tall frame emerged from around the corner, his head towering over the crowd as he crossed the entire length of the porch in a matter of seconds. His somber expression gave away the result of his chase before he spoke.

“Lyra disappeared,” Valerian said as he stood before Dragon. Water cascaded from his long, black hair onto his shoulders. His clothes dripped onto the wooden boards. “Too many scents—” He worked his jaw as his fists clenched and unclenched. “I saw her entering the kitchens’ destroyed wing, and a moment later, she was gone.”

Valerian was Dragon’s best tracker. His skills were legendary on Solaria. During the Cavalier Games at the heights of the hunting season, the guards at Sol Manor bet on how long it would take for the lieutenant to find the princesses’ handkerchief. Not if Valerian would be the first to reach the hiding spot of the token, but when. The lacy piece of fabric, previously kissed by one of the maidens, could be anywhere in the entire Green Region, and Valerian had never failed to find it within hours.

“She went underwater,” Dragon said. That was the only explanation. Water would cover any trace from a shifter’s sensitive nose.

Valerian released a pent-up breath, his hand passing over the dark stubble on his jaw. “I thought so too, but when I looked under the balcony that opens out from that wing, I couldn’t see her. I dove, hoping that she was hiding beneath the board.” He shook his head, spraying water around him.

Dragon wiped a few drops from his face. He was hungry, tired, thirsty, furious, all at the same time, and none of which he had time for. His woman was somewhere in the universe, alone, hunted by assassins, while he was forced to deal with terrorist attacks.

Loud, booted steps resonated from behind him. Dark and menacing, Gage advanced toward them. Once more, Dragon thought that his lieutenant and Gabriel’s could pass for brothers.

“TFPH sent their request,” the vampire said in a low timber, tipping his chin over his shoulder. “Valentine and Gabriel are in the studio.”

“You stay here,” Dragon said to Valerian.

His friend nodded, his eyes already cutting toward Gilda, who stood a few steps behind, organizing the night shift.

“I’ll lend a hand here,” Gage said, relieving one of the lady’s maids of a heavy bundle the girl was trying to hoist on her shoulder.

Dragon hurried inside and ran the length of the manor, across the burned down areas that were empty of people. He needed the time alone to center his thoughts. The physical exercise left him light-headed. That was a first. He was tapping at the reserves of his strength, but he still was a shifter, and a powerful one at that. Being tired or famished weren’t normal states for him, but he could still function for days if needed without faltering. Despite his strength, a foreign sensation gripped his stomach, and it felt like nausea.

Dragon slowed his pace. Dull pain made him press his hand against his stomach. His mouth opened on reflex and he gagged. A moment later, as swift as it had come, the nausea disappeared, leaving him with an ache in his chest and a sense of hollowness. Burrowing deeper inside him, the new sensation hurt worse than the pain, but without a plausible answer to why and what was happening to him, Dragon pushed forward, resuming his jog.

He exited the house proper and took the boardwalk extending into the sea. Ahead, Valentine waited for him under the shade of Gabriel’s studio porch. He stood sentinel over Mirella and Valemir who sat on a chaise lounge hugging the wall. The building was the only place that had not been reached by the fires, and Gabriel had reserved it for Valentine’s family.

At the silent motion from Valentine to go inside first, Dragon entered the room before asking, “What do they want?”

“The three of us,” Gabriel answered, waving a piece of paper at Dragon. “In separate places. At separate times.”

“Or?” Dragon asked.

“Or they’ll kill Lauren.” Valentine strolled past him and sat on the bench by the reinforced plasteel and glass wall shielding the room from the storms that attacked from that side during monsoon season.

Dragon swore a long string of curses. The sting of a budding migraine prickled his temple, and he rubbed at the spot, only making it worse. Raw energy coursed through his body, consuming his strength, forcing him to pace across the room when he should have rested instead. His dragon hissed and bellowed, flapping his wings against the walls of his mental cage.

“When?” Dragon asked.

“Eleven days from now.” Gabriel stretched across his desk to pass him the terrorists’ note.

Black typed letters on yellow parchment, the request was long and detailed, with the locations and times for each of their rendezvous. Valentine’s and Gabriel’s meetings would take place on the other side of the planet, in two different locations in Celestia City. The large capital occupied six islands connected through underwater bridges, and the terrorists wanted to meet Gabriel in the bridge close to the northern gate. Valentine would instead drive to the Sun Observatory on top of the central island. Dragon’s instructions were to fly to Eon, the only volcano of the aquatic planet, and wait by the transparent walkway that jutted from the scenic lookout the place was famous for. All three locations were tourist attractions and heavily used by Celestians as well.

The whole scenario was a logistic nightmare of epic proportions, but the public sites weren’t the only reason for Dragon’s concern. He reread the note, mentally counting the days until the meet and swore again.

“It’s the same date of my meeting with the Academy,” he said, staring at the note. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

“No, there’s no such thing as a coincidence when all the dots align like this.” Gabriel groaned, a chagrined look on his face. “This only confirms that someone from my household is working with the terrorists.”

“It could be someone from my entourage,” Dragon said. “I hate the idea, but it isn’t like we haven’t seen what happened on Lupine. Valentine and I almost killed each other—” His hand went to the brand on his forearm, his fingers tracing the grooves etched on his skin, a memento of that terrible night when the werewolf challenged him to a duel to the death.

“A servant can be bribed or threatened to do someone else’s bidding.” Valentine swallowed hard, his eyes looking outside for Mirella, who still sat with Valemir sleeping on her lap. She had her back to them, but looked at peace, lovingly caressing her child.

The scene caused a bittersweet ache to take hold inside Dragon. He brought a hand to his chest and pressed it against his heart. If he were successful in his endeavors, the path he would travel didn’t include tender, familial moments.

Valentine continued, “Mirella’s former lady’s maid almost cost me everything I hold dear.” He sat straight against the bench’s back, his body rigid as his hands grabbed the furniture, splintering the wooden edge. His bride turned as if sensing his turmoil and smiled at him. At that small gesture, his face lit and he smiled back, releasing his hold on the mangled bench. “I apologize,” he said to Gabriel.

“Don’t fret about it.” The vampire dismissed the incident with a shrug. “I feel like smashing something myself.”

“The girl who last saw the two lost lady’s maids has pulled a vanishing act herself.” Dragon related what Gilda had told him.

“One of my servants was talking to them just before the first explosion,” Gabriel summed up.

“And Lauren was present too, although by herself.” Valentine stroked his hair—he had finally let his mane grow to his shoulder. After the ceremonial shaving of his head in preparation for the duel with Dragon, the werewolf had kept his head shorn for a long time. He said Valemir liked to play with his locks, which had changed his mind.

“So, do we play along?” Gabriel asked, pointing his chin at the piece of parchment Dragon was still holding.

Dragon placed it on the desk. “I can’t miss the Academy’s summons.”

Jade’s life hung in the balance, and he wouldn’t sacrifice the only chance he had to save her. The Academy would never grant him a second appointment. As it was, only Gabriel’s influence as the Celestian High Lord had made it possible. And only because the Academy intended to collect a favor in exchange for being magnanimous.

The Academy was above the law, and without a physical address, no government could hold them accountable and force the institution to follow the rules.

“We’ll find Lauren first,” Dragon said, not seeing an alternative.