Page 14 of Blood Oath
“She has mine,” Crypt speaks for the first time as he gazes in the direction Maven went.
And then the Nightmare Prince disappears. The air warps around him as he fades from sight, and then he’s just gone.
I curse. “That motherfucker picked a bad time to bow out.”
“He didn’t. He just dropped into Limbo so he can roam and observe the mortal world from there, unseen,” Silas says bitterly. He rubs his jaw in thought before shaking his head. “Everett has a point. It makes no sense for Maven to turn us down.”
"Or maybe she just doesn't want you guys in the quintet," Everett mumbles. "I have to say, it's nice to see Bael has lost his charm. It's about time he got his big dragon head resized."
I give him a droll look. "Real fucking mature, Professor Snowflake. We all know if it were a competition between the four of us, Maven would pick me first."
Everett scoffs. "Over me? Good luck with that. I can give her anything she wants, give her influence in the top circles of the Four Houses, and keep her in the lap of safety and luxury for the rest of her life. I’ll make sure she never has to fight at the frontlines of the Divide. Meanwhile, all you bring to the table is your ego, some scales, and a misguidedly proud family that can't mind their own damn business."
I go nose to nose with him, smug that he has to look up when I was once the youngest and smallest, back when we were all kids. Now I'm positive I can beat his frozen ass, and my bloodthirsty, newly spurned dragon is aching for any kind of violent outlet.
No one drags my family name in front of me without earning a few burns, bites, and broken bones.
"You really wanna do this here and now?" I growl.
The air plummets several degrees around us, making my breath plume as he sneers. "Why not? I've waited long enough."
Before either of us can move, a teeth-rattling wave of magic pulses through the air, knocking Everett and me back from each other. My nose singes with a smell like burning copper, the typical scent of blood fae magic. I glare at Silas, but he looks thoughtful. Scratch that—he has his scheming face on.
I used to hate that look when we were little, but now I raise a brow. “Well? Spit it out."
"A competition between the four of us isn't a bad idea. What if we make a wager?”
Everett makes a face. "A wager with a fae? No thanks. I'm still not over the time you needlessly tricked me into downing a glass of kraken ink."
"That wasn't needless. It was for science."
"I was seven years old, and it left me traumatized, blind, and sick as fuck for two months. It's a miracle I got my sight back. The healer said a legacy from a weaker bloodline would have died."
"And now I know not to mix kraken ink with my gin," Silas deadpans. "I say we each name our prize. We all want things from each other, either for our family or ourselves. Whoever Maven picks first will win the wager."
Name our prize? That’s tempting. I narrow my eyes. "How big of a prize are we talking?"
"Land. Money. Rare ingredients," he adds, giving me a meaningful look.
That asshole still wants my dragon scales. I'm sure he'd ask for tons of them, and then I'd have to grow my armor back slowly and painfully. Dragon scales are scarce and sought-after ingredients since my family is the last branch of dragon shifters—and like most legacies, the inability to procreate is part of our curse.
Even in bound quintets, who can have offspring since their curses are broken, dragon shifters haven't managed to breed for several generations. None of my four older siblings have kids. I was considered a miracle child since my parents are older, even by shifter standards.
The lack of dragon shifter offspring is a sore subject in my family.
"I want land," I decide, looking at Everett. "Frost land. The Lyran mountain range, including the dormant volcano. It once belonged to my kind and I want it back."
"Oh, I'm sure you do," he replies coolly, leaning against the wall to pick lint off his lapel. "But I'm not interested in joining this wager."
He always was an angsty fucker. Anyone can see he's lying. Frosts love a good gamble. It's part of how they built their empire. Everett has always been incapable of turning down stuff like this. But when Silas and I stare at him, waiting for him to give in as he used to when we were younger, he shakes his head.
"Nope. Talk to the psychopath who just left. This is a bet I won’t take."
"That sure you'll lose, huh? At least you recognize a contest you can't win."
He rolls his eyes at me as he leaves, probably to grade papers or whatever other shit he does working here at Everbound. I don’t even know what he teaches, and I don’t care.
"Think Crypt has left the university?” I ask Silas.
