Up in Smoke - Katie MacAlister [41]
“I knew it,” I whispered, reaching for my dagger. “I told you he kidnapped them.”
Gabriel stayed my hand with a look, facing Fiat with a placid expression that I knew he didn’t feel. I could feel the dragon fire building in him, threatening to burst free. “What are you implying, Fiat?”
Fiat laughed again, tossing his head back in an affected manner. “Just what I said—I will not be alone. Nor will I forget what has happened here today. I have a very long memory, Gabriel. And my friends, my old friends, have even longer memories than me.”
Bastian made an abbreviated gesture, as if he wanted to punch Fiat but knew he shouldn’t. I gripped my dagger, wondering whether I could slip into the shadow world and follow Fiat without Gabriel noticing.
“No,” Gabriel said under his breath, having read my mind. “He is posturing, nothing more, little bird.”
“Very well. You have made your choice. What’s done cannot be undone.” Bastian gave each of the standing dragons a long, steady look. “Your families will not suffer for your actions, but know that as of this day, you will be dead to the sept.”
Fiat rolled his eyes in an obnoxious display, stopping only to looked past us, directly at Kostya. “I’ll give my friend your kind regards, shall I?”
Kostya pushed Cyrene off his lap, standing slowly, his head lowered, his eyes mere slits as he stared at the ex-wyvern. “You lie.”
“Do I?” Fiat smiled, looked as if he was going to say something else, but changed his mind. “We leave,” he told his followers, and they did just that. With their exodus, the air seemed to warm up several degrees, but whether it was due to the tension lightening or the actual physical removal of them, I had no idea.
I looked from Kostya to Drake and back to Gabriel. “Did he just say what I think he said?” I asked.
“What did he mean? Who is his friend? And why was he looking at you?” Cyrene asked Kostya.
“He lies,” the latter repeated, exchanging a look with his brother.
Drake didn’t look too convinced.
“What is he lying about?” Cyrene asked, tugging at Kostya’s shirt. “Who was he talking about?”
“His name seems to crop up with increased frequency,” I pointed out. “Are you guys really sure he’s dead?”
“Oh!” Cy gasped, her eyes widening as she understood. “You’re talking about that Baltic person, aren’t you? The one who tried to kill Kostya? But I thought he chopped his head off or something.”
“I did,” Kostya said, turning to Gabriel. “I wish to formally petition the weyr to call a sárkány in order to grant recognition to the black—”
The lights suddenly went out. Instantly I shadowed, but before I could grab Gabriel, the double doors at the far end of the ballroom were thrown open, and a shower of automatic gunfire from four silhouetted figures who appeared in the doorway immediately followed.
There was instant uproar as everyone in the room threw themselves out of the spray of bullets. We might all be immortal, but being shot still hurt. Gabriel called my name, his hand closing tight on my arm as he yanked me to the side of the room, shoving me to the floor as he moved to shield me.
The people at the door lobbed in a couple of smallish objects. I had time only to wonder if they were bombs when loud explosions rocked the room, the noise deafening as smoke began billowing forth.
“Smoke bombs?” I whispered to Gabriel, keeping a tight hold on his shirt so as not to lose him in the darkness and confusion.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “Protect the phylactery.” I’d forgotten about that. I released his shirt in order to grope at my neck, pulling the large locket out to verify it was still safe.
“Don’t use it unless