Sometimes being a grown-up sucked.
THE wolf skidded to a stop atop the rock and earth dam that arced around this side of Mika’s lair, his sides heaving. The air reeked of dragon. Beneath that smell were a thousand others—oak, rabbit, dirt, a hundred variations on green—the complex mix unique to this place at this time of the year. Added to that was a hint of approaching rain. And cat.
He hadn’t known he was coming here. He’d just run flat out and this is where he ended up. Good. Sometimes instinct worked better than all that thinking the man was so fond of.
He turned to face the gray and black wolf scrambling up the slope behind him, lifting his lip in a silent snarl. Deliberately he pawed the ground three times—back off and wait.
José took Rule’s signal literally. He stopped and began backing up.
Rule turned and picked his way down the rough slope more carefully than he’d shot up the other side. He didn’t see Mika, and the wind was blowing the wrong way for his nose to tell him if the dragon was here. If not, he would be soon. Rule had crossed the dragon’s wards. That was not allowed, not without an invitation. Mika would come, and quickly.
Good. Rule snarled at the empty, dragon-scented air. He would have answers.
He reached the level ground at the base of the slope. Stopped. Mika!
Rule put all the roil of intent and emotion he felt into that call. It wasn’t mindspeech, but the dragon would hear. Mika, I will speak with you!
From the sunken place beneath the dome that used to shelter symphonies, a head lifted over the earthen rampart. That head was about the size of Rule’s desk and resembled a seahorse’s as much as it did a lizard’s, with a narrow snout and domed skull and large eyes set on each side, eyes as brightly yellow as flame. Against the crimson scales an orange frill rippled along the dragon’s jaws like fire teased by wind.
You annoy me, little wolf. You trespass and you yell. You are not usually such a fool. I do not have to kill to punish.
Words came harder in this form—even harder when emotion had him in its jaws, shaking him like a terrier shakes a rat. Instead of words, Rule remembered as hard as he could—remembered Lily falling from her chair, then announcing that she hadn’t passed out; remembered Cullen speaking of roots sent out by the mantle, the Rhej saying that the mantle was harming Lily.
Peculiar, Mika said then. I cannot see any reason your Lady would wish to damage Lily. Can you? Oh, do calm down. You can’t attack me, and why should you? I am not the cause. Why are you here?
Rule shook with the storm of rage-fear-attack surging through him. This was not good. He couldn’t allow himself to be mastered by the storm in his gut. He dropped his jaw and breathed slowly, reaching for the place of icy clarity where thought and action merged, untroubled by the roil of emotion.
Certa was a battle state. But there was more than one sort of battle, wasn’t there? I would speak with Sam.
I will pass your information to him when next I report.
I would speak to Sam directly. It was possible. Sam had told him so. Sam could mindspeak through Mika or any of the others if they gave permission to be used in this way.
That is absurd. Such sending takes far too much power. It is only for emergencies or—
I will speak with Sam through you, or I will withdraw Leidolf from the alliance.
You can’t . . . you would? Sheer astonishment tinged that thought as Mika absorbed the truth of Rule’s intentions. Slowly he oozed up out of the pit beneath the dome to end up standing on all four feet, his head raised high on that long, muscular neck. He looked down at Rule, yellow eyes glowing, orange frill spreading in agitation. I ought to eat one of your legs to discourage such stubborn stupidity.
Rule tipped his head back and bared his teeth. Even if I do withdraw Leidolf, Nokolai is still allied with you, and I am still Nokolai. You can’t attack me. You are bound by your word.
Silence, both mental and physical, followed. Slowly Mi-ka’s frill subsided. He knew as well as Rule that Sam would not be happy if he refused and Rule did withdraw Leidolf. He probably understood the consequences better than Rule did. I will see if Sam is willing to speak with you.
Good.
Humans are very foolish.
I am not human.
Mika snorted. You are certainly acting like one.
“ALL right, Ella,” Cullen said crisply, taking the Rhej’s arm and turning her to face him. Lily was gone. Rule was gone. Time for some answers. “Tell me whatever it is you didn’t want to tell them, and don’t bother with that ‘aw, shucks, I don’t know them big medical words’ shit. I know better.”
Her smile came easily, but it was belied by the strain in her eyes. “I guess you do.”
“TIAs can cause intense headaches, but they don’t go away in seconds. And there should be other symptoms—vision changes, weakness, slurred speech. Something.”
“That’s true. But she’s got damage in the cerebellum consistent with at least two transient ischemic attacks. Could’ve been a third that’s already healed. Those two I found are nearly healed, much better’n I could do. Seems like that has to be the mantle fixin’ what it’s breakin’. Her tiredness afterward, that’s likely the healing. It drains a person.”
Cullen frowned hard to keep from tightening his grip on her arm. Or screaming. “Dizziness. She was dizzy the third time, toppled out of her chair, Rule said. You say there’s damage in her cerebellum. Those damn roots come out through the cerebellum right next to the carotid artery.”
She nodded wearily. “I checked the carotid. Didn’t find a problem. I’m guessin’ it’s not occlusion TIAs she’s having, but low-flow. Somehow every now an’ then, those roots just shut down blood flow in the carotid artery.”
“You could have told Rule and Lily any of this. There’s something you aren’t saying.”
“Not a fact. Not somethin’ I found.”
“Something you believe or suspect.”
Ella tugged against his hold, reminding him he still gripped her arm. He let go. “I’m reluctant to talk guesses.”
“You’re talking to me now. Not Lily. Not Rule. You’ll feel better if you share it with someone.”
Her smile tilted wryly. “I see that some things don’t change. You are still one manipulative son of a bitch.”
“She matters to me. They both matter to me. I need to help, but I can’t if I don’t have all the facts, guesses, wild-ass crazy notions.”
“All right, then. What I suspect is happenin’ is that the mantle keeps healing her . . . only she isn’t lupus. Her body can’t handle the kind of magic it uses. It’s been healing her arm, but that’s slow. It took a while for that kind of healing to strain things so much she had the first TIA. But if the mantle works like regular lupi healing, it prioritizes—and the brain is its first priority. So that TIA created a rush job.”
“TIAs are by definition temporary. They don’t cause lasting damage.”
“The symptoms of a TIA are temporary. That don’t mean there’s no damage. Now, that damage is minor enough that the brain establishes a workaround pretty quick, but it’s there. But the kind of healing you lupi do wants to make everything perfect, and it’s her brain, so it heals her as fast as it can, only fast healin’ is harder on Lily than the slow kind. She has another TIA. More rushed healing. Another TIA.”