CHAPTER TWENTY

FARON

FARON SPENT MUCH OF HER TIME WANDERING HEARTHSTONE, BUT now she did it with a purpose. Lightbringer was paying her little attention. Gael was setting up some new lesson plan. This was as much freedom as she was going to get, and she wanted to use it to find the dragon eggs.

Wherever the Warwicks had placed them, they were well hidden. She searched every floor and every room. She checked tapestries and shelves for hidden corridors. The only reason she didn’t start digging holes in the lawn was that Lightbringer would see her doing it. Thinking of simply following Gavriel Warwick around took her longer than she was willing to admit: With a treasure so important, the Warwicks would not trust anyone but themselves to guard it. Sooner or later, there would be a shift change. Sooner or later, she’d have her answer.

Shortly after dinner, she followed Gavriel Warwick as he left his room. He went down to the first floor and then slipped into Oscar Luxton’s office, using a burst of flame from his palm to open the door. Faron hurried forward to jam a torn piece of her shirt between the door and its frame, keeping it from closing all the way. She waited until she no longer heard sounds from within and then tentatively pushed at the door.

When it was open a crack, she stared inside. Gavriel Warwick was nowhere to be seen, but there was another open door at the far end of the office. There was a chance that he was waiting there for her, well aware that she had followed him, and she debated if she was ready to take that risk. Soft voices floated out, coming closer to the main office.

Faron let the door slide shut and hurried back to her room.

The next day, Faron followed Mireya Warwick. She waited until Gavriel Warwick had emerged from the office and gone upstairs, relieved from his shift. The slip of fabric still kept the door from closing completely, and this time she quietly let herself into the office. Oscar Luxton was a tacky decorator, she noted derisively. He had portraits of white men in gilded frames, and he had dying plants in cauldron-like pots. His carpeting was black, and the walls were paneled in wood. It looked as if he were trying to impress, rather than being actually impressive.

Faron crept toward the second door, which hung open like an invitation. She couldn’t hear anything from around the corner, but she had come prepared with a kitchen knife and a jagged piece of a shattered mirror. She glanced in; nothing but shadows greeted her. Rows of filing cabinets stood against the wall like soldiers, and the wood floor matched the paneled walls of the office. She bit back a curse. Wood floors were noisy if you didn’t know where to step. And she didn’t.

She eased off her shoes and took the risk. It was a slow, tentative trip down the hallway as she tested each wood plank before she dared to put her full weight on it. Every few seconds, she would glance at the third door at the very end, waiting for Mireya Warwick to appear and catch her. There was nowhere to hide in this stretch of her journey. She just had to hope that the director wouldn’t emerge unless she had to.

Faron reached the door, which was labeled with a small plaque that read RECORDS. Student records, she assumed, though that didn’t explain why there were so many cabinets in this hall. She touched the doorknob only to find it hot, as if there were a contained fire within. Was that how they incubated dragon eggs? Was that Iya’s plan? To hatch the eggs quickly and find their Riders himself?

It seemed too convoluted for him. The Riders these dragons chose could very well elect to stand against him, and it would be too much work to keep breaking bonds until he found Riders who would join him. She was missing something. She knew it.

“You are far too curious for your own good,” Lightbringer snarled across the bond. “Leave, or I will make you leave.”

“I can’t get in there anyway,” said Faron, feigning a lack of concern. “Are you trying to hatch them here?”

She leaned back against the door, which was only half as warm as the knob, and tried not to smile. If it had taken Lightbringer this long to find her, then her lessons with Gael were good for at least one thing: She could hide her thoughts with or without the stone from Rosetree Manor. Their bond still allowed him to sense her presence, but he actually had to try. That gave her even more freedom than she’d thought.

Gavriel Warwick appeared at the other end of the hall. He rolled his eyes at the sight of her. “I don’t want to know how you got in here, but we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Faron maintained her smile, even though this was a minor setback. She had been hoping that if she lingered, Mireya Warwick would open the door to chase her off. Then she could have at least caught a glimpse of what was going on inside—and seen whether Jesper’s blood was in there. Could one even store human blood at such a high temperature? Was Rider blood different?

Commander Warwick grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the office. “I told our saint that it was a mistake to keep the eggs here with you around. All you do is poke your nose where it doesn’t belong, and he refuses to discipline you.”

“You seem angry,” Faron said as she stumbled along behind him. “Upset that you’re not your god’s favorite?”

“This war may be fought by children, but this is not a game, Empyrean.” The commander shoved her against the wall by the office door. His gaze was sharper than a scalestone sword. “I don’t know what my son sees in you, but you are nothing and no one now. The second you become more of a liability than a boon, I will kill you myself.”

“You’ll kill your son if you do,” Faron whispered, shaking both from the commander’s proximity and from the fact that he’d even noticed that she and Reeve were… what they were. “You’ll kill your saint.”

Gavriel Warwick smirked. His hand came up to close around her throat. She clawed at his hand, but he was strong, so strong, though bruises began to appear on his own neck, black and blue circles that bled together until he couldn’t breathe, either. He dropped her, and she fell to the floor, panting.

Above her, his own breathing was heavy. And still he sounded delighted. “You’re right. I don’t have to kill you.”

“Gael will—”

“Gael is dealing with the dragon you’ve just pissed off. I don’t know about you, but I think the latter will win.”

Faron pushed herself back onto her feet, still gasping for air. Her larynx hurt, but not as much as her pride. “Whatever power you have now, I gave you,” she managed, shoving past him before he could grab her again. “One day, you’ll be powerless and alone. You’ll be afraid, and you’ll die afraid. I just hope I’m there to see it.”