In the shadows near the opposite legs of the table, a dark lump the size of a house cat quivered. Then huge, almond-shaped golden eyes opened, blinking rapidly at Clio.

She gaped as the creature writhed, its long tail snapping back and forth, the end adorned with a dark tuft of fur. It was a miniature dragon with folded wings, a dark mane running down its long neck, and a delicate feline head with small horns.

And the little thing was wrapped from nose to rump in a shimmering web of red magic.

“Oh,” Clio breathed, her fear waning. The miniature dragon was caught in a spell. How could anyone attack something so cute?

As though to defy her thought about it being cute, the dragon bared its sharp teeth. It hissed warningly and scuffled backward, scarcely able to move its legs. Clio passed a hand over her eyes, focusing her asper. The weave that fueled the web appeared, revealing a simple binding. She could remove it if she could get close enough to touch the dragon.

“Can I help you?” she whispered, slowly extending one hand. “I can get that binding off in no time.”

The dragon hissed again, cowering against the table leg.

“I promise not to hurt you.” She shifted closer. “Let me help.”

She waited there, not moving, as the dragon hissed and shuffled backward. The creature’s golden eyes narrowed. Its snarl faded, and it huffed softly. With a grumble, it lowered its head in what Clio took as permission.

Cautiously shifting closer, she reached for the dragon and touched its scales just above its shoulder. A quick zap of magic broke apart the first half of the web. She touched the dragon’s rump and gave the spell another quick zap. It fizzled out and the dragon went limp with a startled whine.

“It’s okay,” Clio whispered. She cautiously stroked the creature’s silky mane. “It’s just the aftereffects of the spell. It’ll wear off in a minute.”

Heavy footsteps passed the table and Clio froze, watching several pairs of shoes stride by. This wasn’t safe. All it would take was one daemon standing too close and the helpless dragon might get kicked or stepped on.

She reached out. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

The dragon hissed, but Clio pulled the small body into her arms anyway. The creature squirmed weakly and Clio shushed it. Cradling it in one arm, she scuttled along under the row of tables toward the other end near the wall. It would be quieter there. A safer place for the dragon.

“What are you doing under here anyway?” she muttered, her ankles aching from crouching too long. “This isn’t a good place for little dragons.”

The creature chuffed quietly, a sound that made Clio think of a teenager rolling their eyes. She scooted along until she’d reached the end of the table. Hesitating, she wondered if she should leave the dragon here or …

Before she could make a decision, someone on the other side of the tablecloth swept it aside.

A daemon crouched in the opening, a foot away. Gray eyes like pale storm clouds cut right through her, his face cold and expressionless. Her heart stuttered, then launched into a panicked beat. The draconian mercenary. The one Kassia had called Ash.

Clio was still frozen when the draconian scooped the dragon from her arms. The tablecloth fell back into place, leaving her alone.

“Hey!” she gasped, her paralysis breaking. She dove out from under the table—and crashed headfirst into his legs. Her skull connected hard with his shins and she swallowed a yelp.

He stepped back. She scrambled to her feet and glanced around wildly to make sure no one had noticed her reappearance. Kassia stood at the other end of the long table, looking worried.

With her dignity safe for now, Clio whirled on the draconian. “What do you think you’re …”

She trailed off. Perched on his shoulders was the dragon, its tail curled lazily around his neck. The creature trilled in a friendly way and blinked peacefully at Clio.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “The dragon is … yours?”

He nodded, still expressionless. A couple inches taller than Lyre and noticeably broader in the shoulders, he towered over Clio. That aura of menace she’d sensed from across the room was almost overwhelming while standing right in front of him. At least the older draconian was nowhere in sight.

“Is it okay?” Clio asked.

“She’s fine.” His deep voice slid over her and she shivered as it rubbed along her bones in a way that wasn’t exactly unpleasant—but definitely unnerving.

Shaking off her reaction, she awkwardly brushed her hands together, clearing the dust she’d gathered under the table. “I’m glad she isn’t hurt.”

He said nothing. Did he know his little dragon had been caught in a spell? And that Clio had saved the creature? Either way, she should probably rejoin Kassia. Clio looked around again, intending to sneak back to her friend, but saw Suhul peering across the room. Without thinking, she ducked behind the draconian, putting him between her and the portly daeva warlord.

Ash didn’t react to her using him as a shield, but the little dragon peered down at Clio from over his shoulder. After a minute, she peeked around Ash’s arm. “Is he gone?”

He glanced at her. “He’s at the other end of the room.”

The long pause preceding his answer suggested he wasn’t sure he wanted to speak with her at all. She wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and pretended he wasn’t that scary. Had she really hidden behind an assassin to avoid a sleazy warlord? She needed to get her priorities straight.

Then again, maybe the warlord was more of a threat than an assassin who probably wouldn’t stab her unless someone paid him to do it.

“Um.” She regarded Ash warily. “How … dangerous … would you say that Suhul guy is?”

“Everyone here is dangerous.”

Not a helpful answer. She didn’t know why she was even asking him. She should have been making fast excuses to get away, but his complete disinterest was better than all the other daemons who wanted something from her. Or maybe the adorable way the little dragon was snuggled around his neck made him less frightening.

“How soon is too soon to leave?” she asked instead. “Samael hasn’t even shown up.”

Ash waited almost a minute before answering, probably hoping she would leave if he didn’t respond. “Samael isn’t coming.”

“He’s not? But he invited me. I was told it would be a terrible insult if I didn’t meet him.”

Ash said nothing, and she frowned. His gray eyes followed another daemon for a few moments before refocusing on her. His attention carried a tangible weight that pressed her into the floor. She shivered again.

Irritation tightened his mouth when he saw her expectant stare and realized she was waiting for a response. “If Samael wanted to meet you,” he snapped, “he would have summoned you privately.”

“Oh, I see. So it’s just a political play.” She nodded to herself. Samael had invited her so the others would see her, not because he cared to meet her himself. “I’m glad. I was worried I was actually important or something.”

He looked across the room again, oozing “go away” vibes. She sighed, figuring she should probably return to Kassia. With a sharp chirp, the little dragon on Ash’s shoulders sprang off him and darted away, vanishing into the shadows.

“Ah, Clio, my dear! There you are!”

She swallowed a groan and turned. Suhul bore down on her, his coal-black eyes squinched with greedy relish.

“I thought you might have gotten lost.” Suhul glanced at Ash and his leering smile returned. “Ah, curious about the draconian, were you, my dear? Not the best company to be seen in, I must say.”

Clio scowled at his rudeness. Ash either didn’t care or was too used to similar remarks to react. He leveled his cutting stare on the warlord, who quickly broke eye contact.

“Clio, since our host is otherwise occupied, why don’t I give you a tour of the building? I’ve seen it all myself enough times to know almost as much as a Hades family member.”

She hid her alarm. “Thank you for the offer, but I need to find my bodyguards and—”

“Don’t worry, my dear, I have guards.” He nodded to the six henchmen who followed him everywhere in silence. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me.”

Shaking her head, she stepped away from him and almost backed into Ash. “No, thank you. I need to—”

“Don’t be silly, Clio.” He grabbed her wrist, his fingers cold and clammy. “It won’t take long. Don’t you want to see more than this one room?”

He dragged her a step forward and she saw a door between the pillars only a few paces away. He planned to tow her right out of the hall. She looked around in a panic, but Kassia—frantically searching for Clio—had gone the wrong way and was even farther across the room. Eryx was nowhere in sight.

She dug her heels in but he effortlessly dragged her closer. “No, I can’t. Let me go—”

Another hand, warm and strong, closed over her upper arm, holding her in place.

“Release her.”

Ash’s voice slid under her skin and vibrated against her bones. Suhul paled and opened his hand obediently. Clio stumbled backward, bumping into Ash, and he released her arm almost as quickly as Suhul had.

“What’s this?” Eisheth Hades sauntered over, her high ponytail swinging. She contemplated Clio, then performed the same examination of Ash, her reddish-black eyes burning with what was either loathing or lust. Lastly, she glanced at the daeva who was gawking at her with what was definitely lust.

“Suhul,” she purred, “are you monopolizing the Irida envoy? I haven’t even been introduced.”

“Not at all,” Suhul spluttered. “I was offering her a tour, but …”

Eisheth’s lips curved in a sickly sweet smile. “Is the draconian being troublesome?”

Clio craned her neck to look at Ash, who was watching the two daemons over the top of her head. He didn’t respond, his expression even more blank than before—but shadows gathered in his eyes, darkening the stormy gray.

Clio folded her arms. “Do people always talk about you like you aren’t there?”

His gaze flicked down to hers. Suhul stared gormlessly as though Clio had just questioned a piece of furniture.

Eisheth cocked one hip and planted her hand on it. “Talking to a draconian is rather like talking to a hound. Seems rather pointless, don’t you think?”

“That’s—that’s not … very polite.” Clio trailed off, shrinking under Eisheth’s patronizing smile. She would have loved to tell the woman off for comparing draconians to dogs, but insulting Hades nobility wasn’t smart.

“Really, Clio,” Suhul said. “I’m afraid you’ve gotten the wrong impression. Manners are lost on brutes like this.”

Eisheth glanced at the daeva warlord, and cruel delight lit her eyes. “Exactly so, Suhul,” she praised with sudden sincerity. “Samael’s draconians are well-trained guard dogs, nothing more.”

To Clio’s disbelief, Ash remained silent. He looked bored as if he’d heard it all a hundred times. Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was how things were done in the Underworld.

“Yes, yes,” the daeva warlord blustered. “You see, Clio? We should—”

“Oh no,” Eisheth interrupted. “Dear Clio looks frightened. This draconian is nothing to be feared, child.”

Clio blinked. She looked frightened? What?

“Suhul, you should show Clio that Samael’s pet draconians are harmless and would never lay a hand on one of his guests.” Eisheth gazed at the daeva with adoring expectancy.

“I—I should?” Suhul glanced from Eisheth to Ash, then at Clio. He puffed out his chest. “Yes, of course. Look, Clio.”

He reached right over Clio’s head, his fat fingers heading for Ash’s face.

She didn’t see where it came from, but suddenly there was a long, wicked dagger in Ash’s hand. And just as swiftly, he thrust the hooked blade right through Suhul’s wrist. Hot blood splattered her face.

“Actually,” Ash said, his arm curled around her, trapping her in place, “Samael’s other pet draconians would never harm his guests.”

Suhul’s flabby jaw hung open as he stared at the blade sticking out of his wrist and the wet crimson soaking his sleeve. Then Ash ripped the blade right through the daemon’s hand, splitting his palm in half. Suhul screamed.

His six guards charged Ash and Clio.

With his bloodied dagger in hand, Ash swung her out of the way of the charging daemons. He continued his graceful pivot, nonchalantly flicking his fingers, and black flames erupted in a wide arc that threw his attackers back. She staggered away from the draconian, shocked by the sight. Black magic. She’d never seen such a thing before. It wasn’t the shadow-tinged gold of Lyre’s magic-eating clock spell, but pure ebony power.

Over the cacophony of shouts and the thundering footsteps of daemons running toward or away from the fight, exuberant laughter chimed. Eisheth stepped back as a guard slammed to the floor at her feet.

“I’ll see you in the bastille later, Ash,” she called gleefully. “Don’t be tardy!”

Still laughing, she turned and sauntered off.

Jerking her attention away from the woman, Clio dove out of the way as Ash tore into the guards, now holding another long dagger. Where was he getting those? Black flames rippled down the blades, and he tore the steel right through the other daemons’ shields like they weren’t even casting. If she’d had the leisure, she would have loved to get a good look at what exactly he was doing with his strange magic.

As it was, she could barely keep clear of the battle. She scrambled out of the way as Ash tossed a daemon into the wall beside her. The guard hit with a sickening crack and slid down the wood panels, leaving a streak of blood in his wake. She cringed, desperate for an escape. Daemons were converging from around the room to watch, and trapped behind them was Kassia, trying in vain to force her way through.

Meeting Clio’s eyes, Kassia jerked her hand in an emphatic gesture. Clio looked around and saw the nearby door. Kassia was telling her to get out of the line of fire—to escape from the room.

As Ash unleashed a spiraling band of black magic that filled the air with the agonized screams of his assailants, she flung the door open, fell through, and slammed it shut behind her. Something crashed into the other side, and she sprinted away without glancing back.

Note to self: do not antagonize draconian assassins. She’d thought Ash wasn’t that bad, but the current slaughter suggested otherwise. Yeah, Suhul had insulted him and tried to grab him, but those guards hadn’t said a word. And now he was ripping them apart.

Ripping them apart effortlessly, despite those daemons being trained warriors too.

Clio shuddered and focused on where she was going. The paneled walls and glossy floors went on forever before she came upon a junction. She stood for a minute, looking in each direction, then picked one at random. Minutes stretched as she wandered down one corridor and up another, unable to find a staircase to take her down a level where she’d have a chance of locating the exit. Eventually, she found a hall lined with windows and stopped to peer outside, but the vista of lights offered no clues as to where she was or which direction she was walking.

She leaned on the sill, waiting for the shaky feeling of adrenaline to wane. She was lost, but sooner or later, she would find her way out of here or find someone to take her back to the entrance. Not the end of the world.

Her neck prickled warningly.

Before she could turn, hot breath washed over the top of her head and a hand slid around her neck in a lover’s caress—then tightened painfully.

“Hello again, Clio,” a voice purred in her ear.

Magic was already spinning into her body from the hand on her throat, and she couldn’t even scream as blurry darkness closed over her.