Page 75 of Eat. Prey. Love.
“Some of our relatives, yes.” I can’t meet her eyes, my own gaze drawn to a tapestry depicting the flight of dragons under an Eastern moon. “Most dragons dwell in Egypt, basking in its sun-baked sands. Except...”
“Except?” Chess prompts, tilting his head with feline curiosity.
“Except one,” I finish. “One who chose silk over sand for her retirement—my grandmother, the former Empress.”
Silence blankets the room. It’s one thing to plan a journey to Asia, quite another to face the prospect of knocking on the lair of dragon royalty in voluntary exile.
“Will she see us?” Dolly asks, breaking the stillness.
“See us? Perhaps. Help us?” I exhale a puff of smoke, a nervous habit from centuries past. “That remains to be seen. She’s... particular about her solitude.”
“Then we must be equally particular about our approach,” Rennie says, his tone firm.
“Indeed,” I murmur, imagining the reunion.
The last time I saw her—a millennium ago—she’d imparted wisdom as ancient as the stars. With a heavy heart, I steel myself for the task ahead. Her knowledge could be the ember that ignites our hope—or the flame that consumes it.
Fuck, I hate the assholes who set up this bullshit rebellion and everyone else involved.
Secret Weapon
My muscles protestwith each step I take towards the library, the aches reverberating throughout my body after the rigors of ballet class. Fabreaux definitely tried to kill us today, and I don’t know if it was to make us better or to prove how good she is. Either way, exhaustion clings to me like a second skin, but there’s a pressing need that fuels my weary legs. Rockland’s absence gnaws at my thoughts, her last words echoing in my mind like a malevolent mantra.
I don’t trust that woman not to pop up and cause trouble even if she wasn’tat work today.
I push through the heavy doors of the admin building, looking at the map briefly to find the office my lawyer said he’d be waiting in. I don’t know how he got someone to give him use of it and I refuse to ask; who knows what strings he pulled? When I get the elevator, I push two and wait impatiently as it ascends. It only takes a moment to find office two hundred sixty-nine, and I blow out a breath as I open the door. Farley is ensconced behind the huge wooden desk, glasses perched on his nose as he looks through a mountain of papers.
“Did you… commandeer an office on campus?” I ask in surprise.
Now that I’ve said it, I realize how on-brand that power move is for him.
He looks up, eyes sharp behind round spectacles, yet they soften when he sees it’s me. “Miss Drew,” he greets, closing the book in front of him with a gentle thud. “You look plumb tuckered out. What class has you so thoroughly wrung out?”
“Ballet. That woman has stamina like you wouldn’t believe,” I admit with a small smile, sinking into the chair opposite him. The wood creaks under my weight, as if sympathetic to my fatigue. “Any news on Rockland? I don’t like thinking about her running around like a loaded gun.”
Farley’s expression tightens, a sure sign of concern. He taps a finger on the desk, a rhythmic and thoughtful gesture. “I’ve had everyone looking—Messengers, Postman, other couriers. They’re combing the school and the cities nearby. Anything we find related to your case, you’ll know immediately.”
That’s not exactly an answer, though, is it? Cagey old badger.
“I appreciate that.” I lean back, closing my eyes for a moment, allowing myself this brief respite. Rockland’s absence is as loud as her presence—a void filled with dread that I can’t fill. Her shrieking in our last appointment still rings in my ears; accusations that stick to me no matter how hard I shake my head to dislodge them.
“Don’t let that crazy bitch live rent-free in your head, darlin’. She’s not going to do anything physical and the rest is my problem,” Farley counsels, his voice steady and reassuring. “And I don’t lose.”
I nod, though the knot of anxiety in my stomach begs to differ. Opening my eyes, I meet Farley’s gaze, grateful for his viciously fervent dedication to helping me defeat my adult bully. Many people would say I should simply work it out with her, but when the person holds enough power—real or perceived—you simply can not reason with them. They don’t give a shit what line they’re crossing if they think they have the high ground.
“What other updates do you have, if not where’s she at right now?” I say softly. I’m not sure I want to know this, but I also can’t stop myself from asking. I know his goal when we met last was to do more digging into the vulture’s carefully curated resume. We all agreed it had to be fake as fuck, and knowing what levers to pull is another method of backing her off.
“After what happened in Skelly’s presence last week, I sent my moles to do some digging,” he informs me, his tone grave. “I have an entire team trained by kitsunes to navigate the digital spaces and ferret out information that isn’t easily accessible.”
“That’s a reasonable response to that blow-up, I think,” I reply, the image of the big badger’s stern face flashing in my mind. “Rockland... she’s losing it, Farley. She’s not even trying to hide her crazy anymore.”
He nods slowly. “As much as I hate to say it, that’s not unexpected for her mental condition. Her renewed fearlessness suggests she has a new, powerful pred in her corner. That person is probably using her to get what they want, but it makes her even more of a wild card. It’s worrisome.”
Good to know her insanity is so obvious that it concerns someone as single-minded as my feral country mob lawyer.
A chill skitters down my spine at the thought of my next counseling session. “I’m scared it’ll get worse. That she’ll pry into parts... parts of my life that are private.” Even saying it aloud makes my heart race—the kind of invasive questioning that could leave scars.
“I know,” Farley says, his voice firm. “I’ve taken the liberty of filing injunctions against all publishers linked to her books globally. If we choke her finances, perhaps she’ll reconsider her vendetta.”