Wes snorted. “Yes, well, the day I start taking the masses seriously is the day I set fire to my computer.” He shook his head and scowled out the door. “I was supposed to be on a plane to London right now,” he muttered. “You know, back home, to see the folks who thought I was dead for nearly a decade? And now I have to postpone the thing I’ve dreamed about for years, because some bloody hatchling decided she needs to hold a meeting right now.”
“You’ll get your chance to go home.” I sighed. “That ‘bloody hatchling’ has even agreed to pay for it, and to provide information for whatever cover-up story you’re going to tell them. Which you’re going to need. I trust you’re not informing them that you’ve been working for dragons for the past several years.”
Wes’s look of blatant disgust could strip paint from the walls. “Yes, Riley, that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he scoffed. “Just waltz in and say, ‘Oh, hi, Mum, hi, Dad. Yeah, I’ve been gone a bloody long time, haven’t I? Well, funny story—I’ve been helping these rogue dragons wage a war on an oppressive organization that is also run by dragons. Sorry I didn’t call.’”
I rolled my eyes. “So stop complaining,” I said. “You’ll get to go home soon. You’ve been away for nearly a decade, another day or two isn’t going to matter.”
“I’m a bloody war hero. I’m allowed to complain.”
With a rustle of cloth, Mist walked into the room and my senses prickled. The Basilisk was dressed in heels and a dark skirt, and her silver hair was pinned atop her head. She did not look like the quietly aloof girl of the past few days. She looked poised, elegant and businesslike, and gave my jeans, boots and leather jacket a critical raised brow. “You’re wearing that to the meeting?”
“What?” I grinned at her. “I’m wearing a nice shirt. Besides, everyone there knows who I am. Why spoil their expectations?”
Wes shook his head. “I’ll wait in the car,” he muttered, and swept by with a last rueful look at Mist. She waited until he had left the room and the farmhouse door had closed behind him before turning back to me with a pained smile.
“I spoke to the Archivist this morning,” she said, and her voice was subdued. “He…relieved me of my duties to him. I’m no longer part of that circle. Or welcome back in the Vault.”
I frowned. “Any idea why?”
“Apparently, he believes I can do more good here, with you. That my Basilisk training will better serve this new faction he and the CEO have implemented.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, with the upheaval and the restructuring of every existing department within Talon, no one is really certain what is going on. I imagine it will be months before the Basilisks are truly back on their feet. And even then, I doubt we’ll be doing the same things that we’ve done before. No more stealing company secrets or blowing up buildings, not with the new management.
“So…” She shrugged. “Until that time, or until Talon calls for me again, I guess I’m stuck with you. Lucky me.”
I sobered. “You can leave if you want, Mist,” I told her, though I wanted to kick myself for saying it. “No one is stopping you. You’re not beholden to Talon, the Archivist or anyone now. I would hate it, but…you truly have that choice. If you want to leave and see the world, that’s up to you.”
Her lips twisted in a half smirk. “That’s assuming I know what to do without Talon,” she admitted, a strange note of bitterness in her voice. “You forget, I’m not like you and your band of outlaws, Cobalt. Talon, my job with the Basilisks…that was my whole life. Without the organization… I’m not really sure what I’m going to do.”
I took two steps forward, closing the distance between us. She peered up at me, wary but almost defiant, and I smiled back. “Well, it is lucky for you that I happen to be an expert on life without Talon,” I told her. “If you like, I’d be happy to show you.”
Her brow arched sardonically, making me shrug. “Up to you, of course,” I went on. “But I don’t expect I’ll be babysitting the hatchlings forever, now that there’s no need to hide from the organization. And I’ve seen a fair bit of the world myself. Someday, I’d like to get out there again, without having to worry about my network and keeping everyone alive.”
I reached down and took one of her hands. A shiver ran up my arm as her fingers curled lightly around mine. “I’d… be happy to have you along, Mist,” I said quietly. “There are places in the world where we can both be ourselves, with no humans around to see. I’d love to show them to you.”
“Mmm.” The Basilisk gave me a scrutinizing look, but didn’t pull back. “And the new CEO of Talon isn’t going to want you around to help rebuild?” she asked. “The hero of the final battle? The leader of the free dragons?”
“I’m sure I can convince her that I’ve earned a vacation.”
She laughed. Inside, Cobalt stirred lazily, content to let me take the lead on this. There was a dull ache whenever I thought of Ember, but it was barely noticeable now. I still wasn’t sure if dragons could feel the same emotions humans did, but…what the hell. If this was the start of something bigger, so be it. I didn’t think I would ever get a second chance.
“Well, then,” Mist said, smiling up at me. “I guess we’ll have to see where this goes.”
GARRET
When I walked into the room, the line of soldiers waiting for me snapped to attention.
“At ease,” I told them, and they relaxed, including Tristan, standing at the head of the line. Coming to a halt in front of the men, I took a moment to study each of their faces, evaluating my forces, the ones who had survived.
Eleven soldiers. That was all that was left of the Order of St. George. On this side of the world, anyway. If any of our neighboring chapterhouses had survived, we hadn’t heard from them. The Order had shrunk from a few hundred individuals from chapterhouses across the United States, to these eleven soldiers before me. Talon’s devastation had been almost absolute.
Almost.
“Lieutenant St. Anthony,” I said, glancing at Tristan. “Have the men been informed of the situation?”
“Yes, sir,” Tristan replied in a tone that made me wince inside. I was still getting used to being called sir by everyone, including my former partner. But after Lieutenant Ward had suddenly and unexpectedly resigned, claiming he no longer had a place in this new world where dragons were not monsters, the vote had been unanimous: I was the new commander of the Western Chapterhouse. Which meant, unless someone of higher rank showed up to challenge me, I would lead the United States Order of St. George.
Such as it was.
I wished it didn’t have to be me. I wished Martin had survived; he was the best suited to lead the Order. After the assault on Talon, the lieutenant had been brought home and buried with the rest of the fallen, his cross rising above the others in the cemetery, somber and proud. I wished he was here now, to tell me how a true leader should act. But St. George needed someone, someone who knew dragons, and who would make decisions based not on fear, but on understanding. The Order needed me, but more important, the dragons needed someone to be their voice. I couldn’t falter now.