Chapter Nine

Dory

 

 

“You’re late.” Tanet sounded annoyed as we approached the table.

“Had to climb the stairs,” Claire said carelessly. “I’d forgotten how many there were. You remember Dory, and this is Louis-Cesare.”

Tanet did not so much as spare us a glance. “You might have given them a lift,” he pointed out, all but glaring at his sister.

“I’ve spent enough time scaley today—”

“Not nearly enough!” he said, and his hand hit the table.

The item in question was a slab of black granite, glittering under the few lamps that swung on chains here and there, and looking like the same stuff that made up this part of the mountain. In fact, it appeared to be still attached where it had grown, with the stone of the dining chamber having simply been carved away from it. Yet he managed to rattle the golden plates and goblets it held anyway, causing one of the latter to tip over.

Claire righted the goblet and ignored her brother’s outburst. “Sit down. He won’t tell you to,” she said to me. Louis-Cesare and I obediently sat, me beside her on her brother’s left, and my partner on the only other pillow available, across the table by Tamris, who shot him a shy smile.

I took the few moments while we got situated to reevaluate Tanet. He had changed a bit since we’d first met, while he was on a visit to New York. He’d been thin and gangly then, with his muscles not matching his considerable height or the occasional flash of fire in his eyes. His hair had likewise been short and red, and of a hue not naturally found on Earth, and sticking up in tufts. As if he spent more time in dragon form than in human and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

That . . . was no longer the case.

He was reclining at one end of the table in a rich burgundy velvet robe with scattered, silver spangles that showed off a well-muscled chest. His hair was now shoulder length and gleamed in loose waves, and he had grown into his features as well, which were lean and hawk-like in human guise. The impression was heightened by the fact that he was eating something which I strongly suspected had been alive until a moment ago, as it had stained his lips a brilliant scarlet.

He looked like an ancient Roman senator who had been drinking too much wine, rather than a teenager who had spent his afternoon annoying his sister. And it wasn’t just the outward appearance that had changed. I remembered him as inquisitive and coltish, getting into anything and everything, and then laughing his way out when it landed him in trouble. He’d had an easy sort of charm, youthful, a little bumbling, and yet endearing.

Even Claire’s fey bodyguards had liked him, and they didn’t like anyone.

But when he met my eyes now, it took actual effort not to look away. I made the effort, holding his gaze long enough to avoid a charge of cravenness, but not long enough to be considered a challenge. I hoped.

I let my lips curve into a smile instead. “You’ve had a glow up,” I told him frankly, and saw him blink.

For a second, he was that boy again, with a faint blush staining his cheeks and a grin splitting his lips. And then he remembered his dignity and frowned, ignoring the hand I had extended. “We don’t do that here,” he told me bluntly.

“Oh? What do you do?”

He frowned some more, perhaps realizing that he’d trapped himself, and was now going to have to be either breathtakingly rude or greet me properly. But after a brief hesitation, he manned up, reached over to put a hand behind my head, and briefly touched our foreheads together. And since he’d decided to be hospitable, he did the same for Louis-Cesare.

Claire, however, declined, looking around for somebody to fill her goblet. “You already greeted me, remember?” she asked.

“People are watching,” Tanet told her quietly. “They’ll think we’re feuding.”

“Aren’t we? I still have claw marks on my back.”

“You do not! I was careful—”

“Is that what you call it? Because I’d hate to see the results if you weren’t.”

“Yes, you would,” he agreed. “Now, greet me.”

He reached for her again, but she pretended she didn’t notice and held out her goblet for the servants who had just fluttered in.

There were three of them, which seemed excessive as we already had two, one positioned on either side of the oblong opening onto the carnage. But the latest arrivals had brought food, platter after platter of it, which they artfully arranged on the slab of granite. They got in the way of the guy with the pitcher, who was trying to forge a path through to Claire’s empty glass, but he finally managed it.

He filled it with some delicious smelling wine, then moved on to Louis-Cesare and me. Claire tasted the offering, smiled, and finally gave Tanet his greeting. Which did not seem to mollify him much.

“I’m sorry my sister has such poor manners,” he told us, as if he hadn’t had to be strong armed into playing host. But he leaned into it now, perhaps to show Claire up, and dutifully enquired about our day and how we were finding our accommodations.

I let Louis-Cesare answer him, and wax lyrical about how beautiful we found his realm. He was better at that sort of thing than me—most people were better at that than me—although at least I had managed not to embarrass myself. And they said diplomacy couldn’t be taught!

My family history proved otherwise. My father had been known as Mircea the Bold once, a nickname he’d earned by being far more likely to stick a sword in your eye than to offer you pretty speeches. Yet he was now the consul’s chief diplomat and famous for his charm.

Maybe there was hope for me yet.

“They’re putting on a show tonight,” Tanet said dryly, as the two servants by the door suddenly leapt toward the center of the opening, to keep some tasty morsel from splatting in the middle of our table.

The slaughter was ramping up outside, as more and more diners decided to take to the air. It was making the “chefs’” job that much harder, as there wasn’t much free space to fling anything into anymore, and ensured that each course that did make it was set upon by a number of hungry guests. That, of course, caused fights, and ended with a good deal of the meal getting tossed about.

I didn’t see what they’d accidentally sent our way, as the servants had already thrown it back, which was fine with me.

“This isn’t normal?” I asked Tanet calmly.

“No, it’s to show off—to you and about you.” He shot me a look over some tiny, scrabbling feet.

His dinner seemed to consist of a mass of struggling small creatures that looked like dormice and were trying to climb out of the slick, high sided bowl they’d been served in. One of the tiny, furry faces had surmounted what I assumed was a hill of his brothers and was twitching miniature whispers at me over the rim. I drank some wine, a rich, fruity red, and glanced at Claire, wondering how she was holding up.

Not well, as it happened. That wasn’t surprising, considering that she was that most impossible of impossible things: a vegan dragon. Or she was trying to be, having ordered up a bounty of greenery for the table which Tamris was regarding in confusion. But Claire’s alter ego had other ideas, and I saw the struggle on her face.

Literally saw it, as her usually smooth cheeks kept flushing with more than color. Faint scales bloomed and shifted across her pale skin—pewter with an iridescent lavender tint—making her look as if a strange spotlight was strobing her. But there was no light; it was her inner turmoil writ large, and everybody just ignored it.

“About us?” Louis-Cesare asked, after a moment.

“Father is trying to use your presence here to shore up support for the alliance with your senate,” Tanet elaborated, digging through his bowl. “He’s banking on everybody assuming that we’re so important to your plans that a pair of senators were sent on a diplomatic mission.”

“And you don’t approve?” I guessed, although I didn’t need to. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

He scowled, the latest struggling sacrifice in hand. “I’ve been to your world. Your senate could give a shit about us, except for how many of us are willing to die fighting your war—”

“It isn’t their war. It belongs to all of us,” Claire began.

“—and neither do you. You’re not here for us; you’re here for your sister. And have somehow persuaded mine to help you out.”

“She didn’t persuade me of anything,” Claire said hotly, but Tanet only scowled and ate his latest victim, washing it down with wine.

It mingled with the blood on his chin from his supper, but he wiped it away carelessly with one velvet sleeve. Tamris quickly refilled his cup, without waiting for it to be empty or for a servant to do it. Judging from the way she was gazing at him, it was clear that she was either besotted or planning to be the next lady of the manor.

Or both.

I didn’t give much for her chances, as Tanet barely seemed to register her presence. He paid more attention to the servants who occasionally flew by offering struggling delicacies than to the pretty girl in the starry dress. Which I suspected she had worn just for him, as she kept arranging and rearranging it to best effect.

I felt sorry for her, but worse for us. What was supposed to be a quick in and out for a few guides was turning into a more fraught situation than I had expected. I wondered why Claire hadn’t warned us.

Maybe because we needed her family’s help and this was the only way to get it, I thought wryly. And it was just as well, as Louis-Cesare wouldn’t have come had anyone mentioned possible danger to me. He was getting better about his natural overprotectiveness, but that was on Earth.

This would have been a step too far.

But he was realizing the problem now.

“You sound as if you agree with those who attacked us earlier,” he said to Tanet, deceptively mildly.

It wasn’t mild enough as Tanet’s eyes flashed red for a moment, before calming back down to their usual brown. “They didn’t attack you, or you wouldn’t be here. One of them touched you—a display of bravado that ended up getting a guard killed. You haven’t been here a day and already people are dying.”

“And you’re afraid that more will follow,” I said, because clearly.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Tanet,” Claire began, but he ignored her.

“If you want to get yourself killed, be my guest,” he told me. “But leave my family—including my sister—out of it.”

“You don’t speak for me!” Claire said.

“Perhaps not, but someone needs to. And I don’t see that harebrained light fey prince you married around anywhere—”

“You know why!”

“Yes, I do. Do you?” he asked archly but didn’t give her a chance to reply. “Go home,” he told me. “While you still can. You may be a fearsome vampire senate leader back on Earth, but here?” He deliberately ate another struggling rodent in front of me, taking his time, letting me watch the little legs go limp as he bit down and then slurped up the tiny tail. And grinned at me through red-stained teeth. “You’re just dinner.”

“Stop trying to scare her!” Claire said, furiously. “You know she’ll never find Dorina alone—”

“She’ll never find her at all. Her information on the woman’s last location is weeks old.”

“So, we shouldn’t even try?”

“Not if living is something you’d like to continue to enjoy,” he said darkly.

“I haven’t been enjoying it much lately.”

“More than you would on the border of Nimue’s old lands. Things have descended into chaos over there since her death. Everyone’s trying to snatch a piece of the pie before her people appoint another monarch, and until they do, the borders change daily—”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“—not to mention that the dark fey court has a disputed succession right now, ever since their king was kidnapped by the Svarestri. At least, that’s the rumor; nobody really knows what happened to the old bastard—”

“Aren’t you dark fey?” Louis-Cesare asked, trying to keep up, and received a purely vicious look in return.

“We are Dragonkind!” Tanet snarled. “We don’t mix with mongrel scum—”

“You liked those ‘mongrel scum’ well enough when visiting me,” Claire said pertly, helping herself to salad. “Olga took you to work so her partner could give you a haircut, remember? And Sven taught you how to play troll chess—”

“I didn’t mean them—”

“Who then? The ogres? Because you enjoyed their stew when we visited the enclave, to the point of saying that you’d dreamed about it later, and you played ball with their children. Or maybe you meant the duergars, who fixed your belt for you, and whose skill you highly praised. Or the brownies—”

“I wasn’t speaking of the ones who fled to Earth!” Tanet said. “You won’t be dealing with them! It’s the bastards who are still here that you have to worry about, and you do have to worry.”

“Why?” Louis-Cesare said sharply. “What would the dark fey want with us?”

“Nothing!” Tanet said, looking exasperated. “But you’re walking into a hell of a mess. The Svarestri took the dark fey king to exploit the rifts in their society, and ensure that they’d end up in a civil war and not be able to spare troops for the greater conflict. And they got exactly what they wanted. Fighting hasn’t broken out yet, but it’s only a matter of time. You could easily find yourself venturing into a war zone inside of a war zone, looking for someone who’s probably already—”

He cut off, but he didn’t need to finish the sentence.

We all knew what he meant.

I’d helped myself to something that looked like a spinach quiche but probably wasn’t, and had been trying to decide between a salad or some unknown fruit as a side dish, in an attempt to stimulate my appetite. But at that I put my utensils down. I couldn’t eat right now, not with anxiety clawing at my insides as efficiently as any dragon.

“Let’s change the subject,” Claire said, shooting me a glance. And then shied back from a fine spray of blood from the feast taking place in the air outside our little nook.

Her father’s expansive dining room was next to ours, visible because of the curve in the wall, and because it took up a third of the space on this level, which seemed to be the most prestigious in the hall. So, I supposed it made sense that the show was being concentrated here. But the screaming, clawing and ripping sounds were less than appetizing, and were only somewhat muffled by the surrounding stone. Along with the roars of the crowd as someone stole someone else’s dinner and started a chase around the great space with it.

Pigs literally flew, being carried in massive claws and thrown from diner to diner in an epic game of keep away. Their terrified squeals combined with flowing rivers of varied colored scales, claws and gleaming teeth; with wildly whipping tails and ear-piercing shrieks; with skewing firelight from an ornate lamp on a chain swinging outside of our cave that had been brushed by the battle and was now sending weird shadows dancing over us; and with the pervasive smells of blood and viscera and worse. The combination would have put me off any lingering idea of food if I wasn’t already there, and if everything hadn’t just been hazed by a mist of red.

I glanced at Louis-Cesare, who was leaning back against his cushion, drinking wine and watching the show. If he was bothered by it, he gave no outward sign. I accepted a refill from a servant and tried to appear equally unruffled.

Tanet, on the other hand, barely seemed to register it, as he must have seen similar displays many times. Instead, he was watching his sister. I expected him to push the go-home narrative some more, but he surprised me, agreeing with her desire for a new topic of conversation.

Only she didn’t like this one any better.

“You might enjoy yourself more if you let loose a little.” He nodded at her plate, which she’d somehow kept free from the sauce of battle. “Eat the food—not the food’s food—”

“I’ll eat what I like and go where I choose!” Claire said hotly.

“But you don’t like it.” He leaned over the table, suddenly enough that it could almost be called a lunge. “You hate every mouthful, or part of you does. Stop eating slop and risking your neck for off-worlders and come be with us. Really be with us for once and learn who you truly are. Or are you afraid you might enjoy it?”

“I know who I am,” Claire snapped, and aggressively ate lettuce at him.

He sighed and leaned back on one elbow, before deliberately tipping over the bowl with the remaining dormice, allowing them to scatter everywhere.

I reared back slightly, as did Louis-Cesare. Which was a normal enough reaction when a bunch of rodents scarpers at you across a dining table. But Claire . . . did not.

I saw her nose twitch and her eyes flood purple. And the next moment, a dormouse was hanging out of her mouth, its tiny, startled face looking out from between her suddenly sharper than usual teeth. Everyone froze.

That included Claire, who just sat there, her eyes huge and flooding back to their normal green, while the tiny, furry creature started struggling desperately. And then fell to the table and bolted off when Claire abruptly released it. She got up before anyone could say anything and ran off herself, heading for the doorway to the stairs, and I followed with Tanet’s voice echoing behind us.

“You can’t run forever, Claire. Come back. Come back and join us!”