All the breath rushed out of her lungs. Her vision flashed before her eyes. “The Red Masks were there?”
Dozan, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet through their argument, leaned forward then. “You have an interest in the Red Masks.”
Her eyes flashed to his. And something passed between them that could only be conveyed between confidants. Dozan unfortunately knew about her abilities and her visions. He’d seen her faint only a week ago in that alley and carried her away. He was more than aware of what she was like when she had a vision.
She nodded her head once. “I am.”
“I see.”
“Well, I don’t see,” Clover said.
“They were out the day that I was… assaulted five years ago,” Kerrigan said faintly.
Clover knew what had happened. Kerrigan had confessed to it one night while they were drinking. But she had no clue of the depths of her own hatred and fear for the Red Masks.
“What are you going to do about it?” Dozan asked.
“Do… about it?” Kerrigan asked.
“You weren’t chosen for a tribe.”
Clover gasped. “Is that true?”
“How do you know that?” Kerrigan asked instead. “Do you have spies everywhere?”
He smiled that deadly smile that had won him his kingdom. He stepped around the desk, leaning back against it and crossing his arms. He looked smug as hell. She wished that he wasn’t such a problem. That he wasn’t handsome and powerful and didn’t know all of her secrets. She wished she could run far, far away from Dozan Rook.
“Why weren’t you chosen?” Clover asked. “I thought every Dragon Blessed graduated and got some amazing apprenticeship with a tribe member. That they all became full citizens and yada yada propaganda. Didn’t someone already pick you?”
Kerrigan deflated as she looked back and forth between them.
“Yes. I had someone. He was there, and then he disappeared in the middle of the ceremony. And no, no one has ever not been chosen.”
“Disappeared?” Dozan asked at the same time Clover said, “Gods!”
Kerrigan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m going to figure it out tomorrow when I’m not so mad.”
“You don’t have to figure it out, Ker,” Dozan said, sliding over her nickname like a lover’s caress. He stepped forward, gently tucking a loose strand of her red hair behind her slightly pointed ear, revealing it. “You know why you weren’t chosen when all the full-blooded Fae were.”
She shuddered. At the touch, at the insinuation, at her ear being exposed.
“Do you think it’s a coincidence that the Red Masks showed up to a protest on the night the first half-Fae Dragon Blessed was to be selected by a tribe?”
“That’s circumstantial at best,” she argued. “It’s not because… of what I am.”
“It could be,” Clover said gently.
Kerrigan narrowed her eyes at her friend. “You think they were protesting me?”
“You and me and Clover and everyone who isn’t like them,” Dozan said. “You’re a half-Fae to them. Nothing more. You’re a leatha.”
Clover gasped. “Dozan!”
Kerrigan just stilled preternaturally. That word was disgusting. And she never got used to hearing it uttered. That Dozan would even use it… even to make a point, it turned her stomach.
“You don’t belong out there,” he said. “You belong in here.”
A short laugh escaped her. “In here? You think I belong in the Wastes?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
Kerrigan looked to Clover in disbelief. But her friend was nodding along.
Clover agreed with him. “You’d be better off with your own people.”
“My own people?” she said in shock.
Her own people were Bryonican royalty. Her own people were the House of Dragons. And yet… she had been abandoned by all of them. The Wastes had never abandoned her, but they weren’t her people just because she was half-Fae. Just because she didn’t have to hide herself. Were they?
“You could rule here,” Dozan said, spreading his arms wide.
“Rule?” she stuttered.
“Queen of the Wastes,” he offered.
Her throat went dry. It sounded so tantalizing. To be at Dozan’s side. To have all of this. But it was impossible. It could never… would never happen.
“You would never give that up.”
His eyes grew distant. “With your power and all that you are, you could rule at my side. We’d be unstoppable.”
“My power?” she said delicately.
“Yes, you’re just growing into it. Imagine what it could be. Imagine what the Wastes would look like with you at its helm.”
Her power. Her visions. Not her. He didn’t actually want her to be the queen of the Wastes, to stand at his side. He wanted to use her power and visions. Just like Helly had always warned her about. That if anyone knew what she could do, they would use her… or try to kill her. And if Dozan was using her, then there would surely be people lined up to kill her. Because a secret like this couldn’t keep if she was his queen.
“Thanks for the offer,” she drawled, coming to her feet. “But I’m going to have to pass.”