SkyFall (Taken on the Wing Book 2) (51 page)

“
Con,
”
Tempest completes her last circle and
glides toward Bolshevik Island.
“
You don
’
t speak for everyone here.
”

Fatigue fuels second thoughts and she
considers fleeing. The next few beats of her wings barely keep her level and
she might not remain high enough to make the entrance. Heck, she doesn
’
t even have the energy to portal away.

It
’
s
impossible to tell if his silence indicates concession or continued
disagreement.

“
Perhaps you
’
re right,
”
Tempest
admits.

Soar
’
s scent is long gone from her skin after
the days apart. The warmth of the fire she started in his den faded leaving her
with nothing but bravery with which to face Aledaar. Even the ten days they
spent alone in the cool, fragrant forest after mating are so distant that
Tempest
’
s only proof is their growing
young hidden in her shameful black clothes.

For them
, she decides. That responsibility is
enough.
Not for Con or Flay or even for myself. Not for all the dragonkin
but just for two.

Tempest
’
s thoughts keep her from noticing the six
members of the Will as they take their places around her, above, below, on
either side and in front and behind. She
’
s
watched from all directions and there is nowhere to go but forward in the small
box of airspace they
’
ve left her.

There is no further chance to talk to
Con, to reassure him Flay is safe or even to reassure herself that anyone she
left behind will be protected and she isn
’
t
certain he wants to hear. Shadow
’
s wards and the heavy presence
of gryphon and dragonkin guard should be enough.

She isn
’
t restrained when they land at the main
entrance, nor is she spoken to. Her guard steers her forward, completely
surrounding her as they did in the air. Con lingers behind, leaving her alone
with the large gryphons. They press in against her as the tunnel narrows for
the last forty feet to the Council
’
s main chamber.

A sharp pain in her left thigh sends her
stumbling. No hand moves to steady her and as she extends her arms to catch her
balance they are slapped down. When she recovers her footing and presses her
hand to the muscle there is no stickiness of blood on the fabric but the deep
tenderness hints at a painful bruise. The gryphon to her left looks straight
ahead.

They emerge into the empty main chamber.

Normally at least a few members of the
Grand Council are present regardless of the time but tonight it
’
s empty. She could force the guards to
free her but five would teach her silence before she could influence a second.
They cross the chamber in formation, avoiding the sacred space at its center.
One doesn
’
t step into the center of the
room unless blood will be spilled on the stone floor. Then they walk under the
gold and red drapes hanging from the ceiling and covering large sections of the
walls. The fabric is as still as the room is empty.

Tempest closes her eyes for a moment. Her
heartbeat, like those of the gryphons around her, is swallowed in the heavy
crimson curtains along with the solid thuds of their boots. She silences her
heart and doesn
’
t give a damn if it
’
s seen as threat. The last thing she
wants is her courage to be silenced by the big empty space along with the sound
of the vital rush of life through her body.

As they reach the brief flight of stairs
to Aledaar
’
s private chamber, she
silences her breathing and earns a growl from the big gryphon to her left. He
’
s one to keep an eye on. Tempest didn
’
t have much to do with him during the few
months she served Aledaar since he was one of the overly prejudiced who even
avoided Fury.

The dimness of Aledaar
’
s chamber confines them in the absence of
the silvery wall lights. Two small fires on either side of Aledaar's gold chair
cast angular shadows. Lit from below, dark and light cleave his face to match
his portrayals of both boredom and menace.

Torrent looms nearby, several feet away
from
Torch
who
kneel
s with her bottom resting back on her
heels. It
’
s the only position of rest a
dragonkin is permitted near Aledaar. For a moment she meets Tempest
’
s eyes, the gold light in them flares, and
Tempest can make out the young gold
’
s
fear. Tempest can
’
t place what she fears until a
sudden movement by Torrent causes Torch to flinch.

God, not her.
Has Tempest
’
s absence from Bolshevik turned Torrent
’
s aggression on Torch? Due to her age and
lack of training as a ranger, she serves Aledaar as a page or errand runner.
She knelt in the same spot when Tempest was first brought in and tortured with
Aledaar
’
s necklace. Tempest remembers
her as a shadow against the wall through the first minutes of her trial before
she followed Aledaar from the chamber, leaving Tempest to suffer with nobody
but Flay to get her through.

“
Ah,
”
Aledaar sighs. "Lady Tempest, I'm
intrigued to see you before me."

“
My Generous Sire Aledaar,
”
Tempest
drops to one knee, wrists up.
“
I have come to meet your
demand.
”

“
Search her,
”
Torrent
orders but he doesn
’
t wait for the gryphons
surrounding Tempest to move. He pushes several aside before jerking Tempest up
by her elbows. It only takes a small flare of her gold wings to keep her balance
even though Torrent drops her with an unnecessary shove backward. His hands
start over her shoulders and his fingers dig in as he covers every inch of her
upper body, then each leg and finally her arms.

Tempest remains passive throughout the
disgusting touching since fighting would only please Torrent.

“
As Lawrence claimed,
”
Torrent says and rests a hand on the
small roundness of her stomach.
“
Her life is forfeit but two
will take her place.
”

She hisses so only Torrent can hear and
he answers with a cold growl. While the gash Talon left in Torrent
’
s upper lip appears as little more than a
cut when his mouth is closed, it splits half an inch from the corner of his
mouth revealing some of his teeth when he smiles.

Torrent grabs the collar of her tunic and
pulls, digging the back into her neck while tearing open the front to expose
her scaled adornment. Then he grabs the string holding the key and yanks. The
string cuts in to Tempest
’
s skin before it snaps with an
anti-climatic
pop
.

The smile of satisfaction on Aledaar
’
s face drives dark shadowed lines up his
cheeks and obscures the gleam in his eyes.

“
Put her aside,
”
he orders and Torrent tosses Tempest
toward Torch.
“
Bring Master Lawrence.
”

Torch shuffles sideways enough to avoid
being shoved into the wall by Tempest but the girl keeps a wing and arm out to
give a measure of gentleness to Tempest
’
s
landing.

“
You,
”
he points at Torch.
“
Fetch Master Fury from Skyfall.
”

“
My Generous Sire,
”
Torch bows and hurries from the room to
stay well ahead of Torrent who leaves in her wake and takes the dark passage to
the dungeon instead of following her through the main chamber.

“
Dragonkin,
”
Aledaar whispers. His mouth opens as if
to say something then snaps shut without uttering another word. The old gryphon
appears immeasurably pleased with himself. The six gryphons who escorted
Tempest into the chamber remain, three on either side of the door. The only
movement comes from the fires then Aledaar hooks one foot under his chair and
pushes the box forward until it rests several feet in front of him.

“
I have never seen the green relic though
I can imagine its beauty and power rival this one,
”
Aledaar stands and unfolds the front of
his white robes to expose the gold relic. If he knows how Tempest avoided
losing her will to the thing, he must know she can free the golds. Maybe he
doesn
’
t or maybe he feels safe
enough considering the guard present and Tempest
’
s lack of weapons. Either way, she
’
ll only get one chance and Aledaar
’
s arrogance gives her a measure of hope.

Lawrence
isn
’
t restrained when he arrives with Torrent
although the big bald gryphon looks worse than beaten. His hands hang in limp
curls at his sides, barely swinging in time with the shuffle of his feet.

...my spirit is loyal but my will is gone
. Lawrence said when he
abandoned Tempest on the rock shelf near Welch Peak.
I hope Aledaar kills me
when he
’
s finished with me, Cherry. I
really do.

Even Lawrence
’
s spirit has faded, withered by the pain
of resistance. It
’
s only been two days since she
last saw him and the once strong and fearless gryphon
’
s forced betrayals have left him with
nothing but shattered pride evident in every move.

“
Lawrence,
”
Aledaar claps his hands together,
friendly and coaxing as if Lawrence were a reluctant child.
“
We have a visitor.
”

Lawrence
raises only his eyes, first to Aledaar
then they roam around the room before they find Tempest. He mashes his swollen
lids shut then seems to use the last of his strength to push them open. The
bruises are the same dark shade as his prisoner
’
s
garb.

“
Welcome,
”
Lawrence
nods before his eyes lose
focus.

“
Lawrence
, it
’
s
me,
”
Tempest says but the gryphon
is lost again, staring into the middle of the room. If he even saw her he doesn
’
t seem to know who she is. Darkness
centers about him even though the biggest shadows are cast on the walls.

“
Lawrence
,
”
Aledaar coos.
“
Take the key and open the box.
”

Torrent dangles the key before Lawrence
’
s nose, swinging it side-
to
-side so it catches the light.

No,
Tempest fumes at the sickening display
of humiliation. Forcing Lawrence to surrender the bracelet he
’
d protected with his life for so many
years is exceptional in its cruelty but she doesn
’
t expect anything less of Aledaar.

“
Oh,
no. I...
”
Lawrence
crumbles to his knees and tries to
scream against the pain that resisting Aledaar causes. The weak cry is nothing
more than a hoarse whisper as he crushes his head between his giant hands. Lawrence doesn
’
t even get them out to arrest
his fall when Torrent shoves him toward the box and there is a soft thud as his
head hits the floor. A small pool of blood forms as Lawrence pushes himself up.
Crimson drips from his forehead and nose as he reaches for the key.

“
I
can
’
t,
”
he moans but in spite of
his protests he crawls toward the box.
“
Please...
”

“
That
’
s it,
”
Aledaar
croons and Lawrence falls on his belly as he reaches for the box. The weight of
his own wings is too much for one weakened arm to hold up. After several
painful tries, the key finds the small hole at the same moment Torrent kicks Lawrence in the ribs. Tempest jumps, the sound of bone snapping isn
’
t masked by Lawrence
’
s agonized grunt.