Yet I'd spent over a decade locked in an attic with my magic bound by a Blood Amulet. How could I condemn Marcus to the same cursed magic in the collar? Sleipnir had wanted Marcus to be free, and this mission was wrecking him the same as me.
I'd do anything to stop the look of devastation that passed from Magenta to Bask, as the collar passed between them.
Another wave of electricity washed over me, and I let out a panicky squeal, curling into a ball of prickles.
Mr. Fierce did not show fear.
Rage built in me at the same time as waves of agony. I worried at the bottom of Sleipnir's pocket with my sharp teeth.
Die cottony threads...
When they unraveled, I smirked at my clothes conquest (smirking in animal form was one of my many...okay, several...okay, a talent). Then all of a sudden, the pain stopped, and Sleipnir stumbled to the side, before righting himself.
My prickles fizzled and sparked with the remnants of ancient magic, and it felt like my body was working out how to put itself back together.
Sleipnir wouldn't be pissed off if I hurled in his pocket, right?
We must be through the Gateway.
I wobbled onto my hindlegs, peering over the top of his pocket. Blinking, my eyes burned against the bright light.
Great Pan, the Court of the Gold Dragons was like a miracle that I'd been waiting all my life to witness. Wooden pillars that coiled with exquisite orchid designs soared to the glazed roof of the study, which was decorated with swooping dragons between the beams. The walls glowed like the sun.
It was warm and smelled sweetly of summer on the turn. How easy it was to forget that only Rebel Academy was cursed to winter. Coldplay’s atmospheric “Magic” piped from the pillars; each yearningly loving chorus tongued me, pulling me further into the love song’s melody.
Marcus sat bent over a gilt-edged desk with his back to us, calmly writing.
The sun streaming through the window over his desk lit the soft blond waves of his hair that fell to his waist like dancing flames. Even seated, Marcus’ bearing was that of a warrior. His muscles were coiled and tight in his yellow jacket and trousers, which were embroidered with orchids and cut like a military uniform.
I'd had enough time to imagine what a deadly dragon court might be like, and it'd included fire-breathing contests, heaving treasure rooms, and naked ice-cream wrestling (rocky road flavor, of course).
A fox could dream.
Yet I'd never guessed at this hardworking tranquility.
Damn my prickles and call me a hamster, Marcus truly was this kingdom's leader, and we were about to destroy his kingdom as much as the archduke himself.
When Magenta took a step forward, her boots clacked on the golden floor, and Marcus' shoulders stiffened. But he didn't turn around. When Magenta's fingers clasped around the Sleep Charm, I hissed.
Mage's balls, don't do it...
Sleipnir slammed his hand over my mouth to silence my furious hissing. I licked his palm with my little tongue, but he only held on more tightly.
Why wasn't Magenta crushing the bag?
Marcus finished his curling signature on the paper, before laying down his pen.
My gaze flicked to the ornate archway out into the corridor. If anyone walked in, then we'd be discovered at the heart of the court. They'd believe that we were here to assassinate their archduke.
That was treason.
I didn't want my head to roll. I mean, where would they even get an ax small enough?
If this kidnapping was going to happen, it had to be now.
Bask slipped the metal collar out of his pocket. His hand shook, and its poisonous magic wound around me. At last, Sleipnir removed his hand from my mouth, crouching into position. Like this, he was all predator on the hunt.
Crush the bag... Wait, please, don't... Just do it…
Mr. Fierce was more barbarian rage and less clear-headed decision making.
Marcus sat up straighter, and Magenta's fingers tightened around the Sleep Charm.
All of a sudden, a wave of golden magic burst from the study's walls and the mouths' of the painted dragons in the roof. The magic curled around the other Immortals and me like warm treacle. It was pleasurable but so intense that I jumped, letting out a startled clicking sound.
Then I froze.
I couldn't move. Slugs and snails, I was paralyzed. When I stared in panic around at Magenta and Bask, I realized that we were all frozen as well.
I hissed my protest, and Magenta met my gaze. She was flushed with apology.
"Free us," Magenta demanded, although her voice shook.
"Like you intended to allow me to remain free?" Marcus' voice was rich and deep. He blew on the paper to dry the ink, before pushing himself out of his chair and turning to face us like we were his guests and not now his prisoners...or would be kidnappers.
I'd forgotten how beautiful he was. His hair fell over his sharp cheekbones, and his golden eyes gleamed with sadness, as he stared between each of us in turn. Why did I feel like I'd disappointed him? Only dad had ever been able to make me squirm like this, when I'd disobeyed the House of Jewels’ rules and Glow, my werewolf friend who'd always acted like a big brother, had taken the whipping for me again.
But I deserved it.
Marcus cocked his head, studying Sleipnir. "Are you not the hero who rescued me from the academy? Did you not break the cursed collar that your friend now clasps and risk much to return me to my kingdom?"
Sleipnir ducked his head. "Huh, I'm no hero. It was a chaos moment."
Marcus' yellow magic fluttered around him like a decadent outfit.
Pan's balls, he was powerful.
Had Damelza truly expected us to survive this mission?
"And what is this then?"
Sleipnir's breath hitched. "Love."
Marcus raised an elegant eyebrow. “Was it love that made the witch’s hand hesitate? Didn’t they teach you at the academy that an assassin’s blade must be swift to strike down their enemy?”
“Do you wish to interrogate us to death?” Bask’s eyes glittered.
Bask was drawing Marcus’ attention away from Magenta; I flinched.
Flambe incubus coming up…
Yet Marcus’ gaze was fixed on Magenta like she was a puzzle that he couldn’t figure out. Then I noticed the way that his hands shook, and he hadn’t stepped closer to her.
He was frightened.
Sometimes, I forgot that Magenta was a witch. Considering that I’d spent a lifetime at the mercy of my own family and now suffered as whipping boy in a coven-led academy because mages were the witches’ enemies, the truth should’ve always been a nagging presence in the back of my mind.
Yet Magenta was simply the woman who I loved. She was dangerous but she’d never be a danger to me.
“You’re not our enemy,” Magenta insisted. “The Principal who sent us here and forced us into becoming assassins is. It was a mistake to hesitate, of course, but I’ve never hurt an innocent on purpose before and I find that it’s not as easy as it looks to be that type of wicked. If you wish to punish anyone for such actions, then please punish me as the Prefect.”
Marcus’ chuckle was weary. “It’s kind of you to believe me an innocent in one breath and the type of wicked who’d hurt others in the next.” When he plucked the collar out of Bask’s pocket, I expected him to hurl it against the wall, grind it beneath his boot, or melt it with his magic. Instead, he only strolled to his desk and placed it on the top. “My magic has destroyed your Sleep Charm. The fae magic would’ve been given to you by our cruel keeper, I suppose. He knows only how to control and subdue, the same as the Princes.” He shuddered. “My dear brothers, are they…?”