The (Not) Satisfied Dragon - Colette Rhodes Page 0,86

didn’t ease the guilt I felt at giving away something that wasn’t really mine to give, but it lessened the urge to claw Quillan’s face off the moment I saw him.

We touched down two at a time and shifted back on the Edan's front lawn. It was an expansive property, but six dragons would have done terrible things to Tal's flowerbeds.

“Ah, Flight Galon,” Quillan said excitedly, emerging from a pretty white pavilion to the side of the garden. “You are nothing if not prompt.”

“Can you fulfill your end of the deal?” Ezra asked impatiently, skipping the pleasantries entirely.

“Why, of course,” Quillan replied, giving him a reproving look as he untied a small pouch from his belt and handed it to Ezra. “Can you?”

Ezra nodded stiffly, looking to Oren who pulled the emerald out of his trouser pocket. I snatched Levi's hand, squeezing it tight as a strange muffled noise somewhere between a cry and a curse came out of me. Quillan gave me a kindly smile as he quickly swiped the emerald from Oren and hid it from my eyesight. He probably meant it to be a kind gesture, hiding the temptation, but it made me want to weep.

So shiny.

So valuable.

Ezra handed the small pouch to me and my hoarding instincts kicked into action when I peeked at the rare ingredients inside. It wasn't a shiny jewel, but these were precious too. I could look after these. If any of us ever contracted Queen's Fever, we'd be prepared.

“A word of warning, Flight Galon,” Quillan said lightly, making my mates stiffen. “The Assembly has gotten wind of your run for Council. You know other races aren't so... restrictive with their females. They’re excited by your flight, what you’re trying to do. That creates some urgency for those who aren't on your side.”

What did that mean? Did Nerio have something planned? Was he going to poison us too? Gods, we couldn’t catch a break.

“Come on,” Ezra said tightly. “We need to visit Ilia.”

✽✽✽

The mountain where Ilia lived was more reminiscent of the one where I'd grown up. It was small, with a few caves clustered together, and expansive flat land surrounding the area. The dens were occupied and well cared for, and by virtue of the smaller population, it was probably a very desirable place to live. I liked our mountain, though. While I didn't enjoy being in the thick of a crowd, knowing there were others nearby was reassuring.

There were lots of witnesses.

We shifted quickly, and Ilia emerged from the front door before Ezra could even knock. “I was just leaving. Did you need something? Has something happened?” he asked curiously, looking between us.

“It's about the Scribe. I think we should talk inside,” Ezra replied.

“I can't help you with the task,” Ilia said carefully. Seff’s family hadn’t even attended the party last night because they didn’t want to look like they were favoring us.

“Nor would we ask you for help,” Seff shot back, affronted.

“Of course not,” Ilia chuckled. “Come in, then.”

I could hear movement around the den, but Ilia must have told them to stay out of the parlor as he led us into the empty room and closed a heavy wooden door behind us. It was a nice room, with far more furniture than we had and colorful cushions and blankets everywhere that made it feel homey and welcoming.

“Sit,” Ilia ordered, gesturing at the seats around the room. I sat on the couch between Ezra and Seff, spine ramrod straight but face relaxed like I wasn't at all intimidated to be in the Councilor's house. “What's going on?” Ilia enquired.

“The Scribe didn't have Queen's Fever; someone poisoned him with brulic. He’s recovering, though he’ll be on bedrest for a week at least,” Ezra stated, as calm and factual as ever.

“Poisoned?” Ilia asked, eyebrows shooting up. “You're certain?”

“Entirely certain,” Ezra confirmed.

“It must be Nerio,” Ilia muttered before shooting us a warning look. “I didn't say that.”

“Of course not,” Seff said with a sly grin.

“Fuck,” Ilia cursed, getting up and pacing the room. “Say nothing. I was already concerned about Nerio stretching the rules lately, but I won't put your flight at risk by getting you involved. As far as anyone else knows, you were able to heal the Scribe, and that is the end of the story. He'll be well enough for the Council meeting in a few days, yes? You can bring him in then and show off his miraculous recovery.”

“If whoever is trying to kill him doesn't succeed by