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  But now wasn't the time and place to get distracted by that thought. Not when he clutched an unborn dragon in his hands. “You did good work tonight, Mia. Fantastic. I'm glad I'm not wrong about you. You are the perfect person for this job.”

  Mia stared at him for a moment, as if she'd never been complimented in this way before. “You really mean it?”

  Zaine nodded. “Of course I do. There's something about you, Mia. Something that men like those... disgusting little specks of dirt can't stomp down. Not just your powers. You.”

  The color in Mia's cheeks changed, shifting to a soft pink. “I'm glad to see someone notices that I'm good for something.”

  Zaine nodded to her, before remembering what she'd mentioned. “You said you had three more of these?”

  “Yep.” Mia indicated her cloak, where three small bulges lined her inner pockets. “I suppose they need to go somewhere warm.”

  “To hatch, yes,” Zaine said. “But don't worry about them. As long as the shell is intact, they're resilient little things.”

  A shadow of relief flicked over her face.

  The other thing she mentioned... about the red dragon that recognized his name... Zaine could only guess who it might be. No one from his family had been taken. But it had to be someone from his kingdom.

  Meaning that Gorchev had already penetrated the outer lairs. How much closer until he reached the heart of the city, and stole everything they had? Didn't bear thinking about. A growl built up in the back of Zaine's throat, along with the sensation of a heavy hand slapping him. He needed to be careful. One wrong move, and all those unborn dragons, the captive slaves, both hybrid and trad... they'd be gone.

  “Good work,” he said, now taking on a brisk, commanding personality. “I'll pay you directly, or at your bank tomorrow. I have no more tasks that involve sneaking through factories at night... but I might ask one more favor.” He glanced around the alley, making sure no one heard. He spoke quietly enough. Mia held his gaze, rigid.

  “I start work with Gorchev again in three days, Zaine. Unless it's something quick, I might not be able to help.”

  “Not even if it meant being a double agent? Helping me to bring this bastard,” Zaine bared his teeth, “down?”

  The iceblood regarded him for a long moment. Considering. Something else crackled there, too. An almost palpable energy that Zaine wanted to reach out and touch.

  But not now. Not when he had the young to care for. People to see, things to secure.

  “Alright,” the iceblood said. Her hazel eyes, shadowed in the gaslight, hardened. “There is a slight, ah, conflict of interest between me and my employer now. I was okay with killing bad dragons. I'm not okay with this. It doesn't make it... right.”

  Even as a thrill of fear rippled through his body when she mentioned being okay with killing bad dragons, Zaine smiled at her. “Now that we're settled,” he said, nodding to her, “you'll be seeing a lot more of me. I'm a busy man, with very deep pockets.”

  Again, that consideration flitted over her expression. Likely gauging just how important an individual he was. And he couldn't well mention that he happened to be a prince of Calcite, the little dragon kingdom perched on the mountains of the Western Reaches. It might generate the kind of conflict he wished to avoid, and cause this iceblood to slip between his hands forever.

  “There's something about you,” she said, sweeping a hand over her exhausted face, tucking stray bits of blonde strands away. Not that she had too much to begin with. “I can't quite put my finger on it... but I certainly don't want to stay away. Not now that I know this. I'll help.” She nodded to herself, exhaling satisfaction.

  Zaine couldn't stop the smile from spreading. She was probably about five seconds away from dropping into a numb heap—the usage of her power seemed to be catching up with her—but that didn't matter. She'd agreed. Of her own accord.

  For all intents and purposes, the iceblood now belonged to him.

  “Come,” he said, still holding the egg to his chest. “Let's take you home.”

  Chapter Seven – Mia

  Pictures of dragons decorated the ceiling. Mia stared up at her shabby, artistic creations, which also depicted miniature iceblood magicians sending squiggly bolts towards their foe. She liked the one where the dragon's triangular teeth were about to chomp over a stick figure with a cloak.

  Her tiny coffin home did feel like an actual coffin at this point, and already, her limbs held that heavy, dead quality from having lain in too long. All of her life fit into this home. Into just a bag, really. Her gaze shifted to a couple of wooden figurines. A crude attempt at making farm goats, like there used to be in the fields. And the only thing left of her father. She had nothing of her mother, and certainly didn't possess her once exemplary cooking skills. Mother didn't want anything to do with her, anyway. Not after the burning, not after being stuck in a miserable city. Mia again turned to her side, facing the door.

  Memories of the screams penetrated her consciousness, making her stomach twist up, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She'd never liked being the girl with the dead parents, trying to cope in the big city. They'd send carers over to the villages that were ransacked, took the frightened survivors as refugees into the city...

  No more bad times, Mia thought, finally heaving herself out of bed. She went to the Steamcog for their bathtub, ate breakfast there, and thought about working for Gorchev. It'd taken her three days alone just to recover from her exertions of before, and a lot of food. She needed to go and work for that bastard, even knowing he planned to enslave hundreds of dragons, and probably bring their wrath right to the city's doorstep. No wonder that attacks had increased. No wonder.

  Zaine had taken the eggs from Mia. Probably to present to those dragons he liaised with as a show of good faith from the city. A city that slowly sucked the good air out of the sky with the factories that streamed great clouds of black smoke, or rolls of white-gray steam. As she finished her breakfast, she saw Helga tinkering in the corner again. Helga being one of those women with parents that wanted her to get married as soon as possible, nervous at her deviancy when it came to mechanics. Currently, she had a variety of cogs and gears on the table, likely salvaged from scrap heaps, and appeared to be putting the last touches on a tiny mechanical toy. Helga's tufted dark hair stuck up in messy clumps about her face.

  She glanced up as Mia approached, taking off her goggles. She wore them all the time, even when she didn't need them, because it staved off the kind of people who wanted to marry her. “Mia!” she exclaimed, beckoning her over. “Long time, no see.”

  “I come here almost every day. It's long time no see on your part.” Mia grinned at her. Mia only ever met her in the context of doing some quick work along with a meal, and usually because people were bugging her at her little workshop she'd procured. A couple more twists, and Helga held up the device in her hands, turning the key. A moment later, a tinny, musical sound came from the box—a lullaby.

  “Been fixing this for the Masons,” Helga said, wiping her brow. “It stopped playing, the kid broke the key, and I've welded together the parts needed.”

  “Do you get paid for this?”

  Helga shrugged. “Have to pretend I'm a boy so people will let me fix in the first place. “Anyway, I actually been wanting to speak to you for a while. You remember that request you gave me, about finding a way to get something as powerful as a staff, but smaller?”

  Now Mia's interest perked more, and she examined the dark-haired tinker, who had started rummaging around in her bag. “Unfortunately, from what I hear,” Helga said, “size really does matter. Both with the gem and with the wood you channel it through. Can't have lots of gems, because that fractures the power. Can't have too little wood, because then you got no conduit, see. Why it has to be wood, I've no idea...” Helga tugged out a necklace, chain linked by sturdy little knots of wood and leaves, with a hollow rounded pendant set with a triangular-cut topaz. “Topaz is supposedly better at channe
lling than sapphire. Prismatic gems are way out of my pay grade, but this little thing isn't. It's still not as powerful as a staff, but it's a damn sight better than having a ring on each finger. And the triangular pattern enables a three-point focus. Something about luck and disaster always coming in threes.”

  “You've done a lot of research,” Mia said, amazed. More research than even she knew about the thing.

  “I know a few gemsmiths,” Helga said, smug in spite of herself. “Including one who happens to be an iceblood. He believes the strongest kind of focus would be a crystal ball, but to cut a gem into that shape, or to even find one that big... good luck, I suppose. Unless you fancy breaking into the king's vault and stealing the Rose Star.”

  The five-point diamond. Apparently the biggest uncut gem anyone had ever found.

  Mia wrapped the necklace, smiling at Helga's ingenuity. “I didn't realize you'd go this far, Helga. How do you want to be paid?”

  Helga gave a rather wolfish grin. “Next time you find yourself slaying a dragon, maybe keep one of those horns back, eh?”

  Of course, Mia thought. Why else would you befriend an iceblood? “Sure.”

  She bade Helga farewell, who had begun tinkering on something else, peering at it through a magnifying monocle, squinted in one eye. Looking content and at peace in her occupation. If only Mia felt the same about hers. What with the discovery of the slaves in Gorchev's new factory. Creatures that she never even imagined could be slaves.

  Slinking into Gorchev's place filled Mia with unease. She'd left her staff in her home, not wanting people to start jabbing fingers at her when she walked around with it. Really needed to get that sapphire on the staff covered up. Jason and Sanders happened to be within the complex, doing ash knew what, but they certainly gave Mia penetrating, lecherous stares between them.

  “Ah, excellent, excellent,” Gorchev said, sharp teeth on display as Mia walked into his office, not straying far from the door. You'd never be able to tell just by looking at him what he did. No wonder Zaine loathed this person. “I've got a new kill for you, iceblood. A slightly unusual one. Which is why I'm going to pay you more for the effort.”

  Mia's eyebrow twitched up, instantly alert. If he was flaring up the price, then that meant it to be unethical. She'd seen him do it before.

  Never complained before, however.

  “It turns out we may have a new issue with my factory operations. I've heard it told that one of the official ambassadors between dragons and humans has intentions to shut down my factories, on the basis that they are aggravating dragons and endangering humans. Nonsense, of course,” Gorchev said with a sneer. The kind that made Mia want to punch him in the jaw. “We know how vicious dragons are. And fools who think that we should somehow be lenient to those beasts, let them shut down the factories, put thousands out of jobs and starving on the streets... it's not right. So I want to send the ambassador a message. The kind that makes him dead.”

  Gorchev twitched his hand underneath the desk, hauling out a bulging sack. He opened it, displaying a ludicrous amount of gold. “One thousand. Right here. Enough for a good house, a servant. Comfortable living for years, if you don't waste it on extravagance. And my price is that you kill the ambassador. Kill those who sympathise with dragons.”

  The gold glinted, drawing Mia's attention. She already saw herself on that farm watching her crops grow in the yards, an orchard bloom and drop russet apples in autumn, a clear blue sky, and a star-spangled night. No more masks. No more sleeping in coffins. Just her and the animals in the Reach. Perhaps the desire shone in her face, for Gorchev smiled thinly, his lips near to cracking at the seams. His beetle dark eyes regarded her, before he thumbed out his wanted picture, drawn by a talented sketch artist.

  “This is what the ambassador looks like.”

  Tugging the paper out Gorchev's meaty hands, Mia examined the composite sketch.

  Her dream shattered, squelching onto the ground. Everything inside shriveled. Staring at her from the clean white paper was the shaded, toned features of Zaine.

  Chapter Eight – Zaine

  Zaine slid into the Steamcog for the second time that day, hoping to stumble into Mia. The first time, there'd been a mousey-haired woman fiddling with what resembled a miniature steam engine. The second time, he spotted Mia, nursing a large tankard of beer, her eyes red-rimmed.

  He moved into the seat opposite her, giving what he hoped to be a winning smile. Something about the faint flush on her cheeks reminded him of a woman aroused, ready for the brush of sheets, the touch of skin. “You got your assignment from Gorchev yet, Mia?”

  The iceblood's eyes widened, and her hand trembled as it held the mug. Then, she cleared her throat and said, “Not yet. He's making me sit on the bench for longer. So I'm entertaining myself.”

  Something in her manner seemed to dare him to lean closer, letting him inhale her scent. Freshly washed, it seemed, with the distinctive notes of rosewater and glycerine. Her short blonde hair fluffed outwards, soft as a cat's belly, and her pupils were fully blown. What was it about her he found so attractive again? She wasn't exactly pretty. Far from it. A hawkish face, a slightly too pointed nose and chin—but something about those wild, fierce eyes—he just wanted to swallow them up. Something about her lips when they smiled; though they weren't smiling right now.

  Was she lying to him? “Whatever he gives you,” Zaine said, “I'll triple it. But if he doesn't give you anything within a few days, I'll ask you for another favor. Alright?”

  Her eyes seemed to settle anywhere but upon his. Finally, she nodded, before letting out a closed-mouthed belch. “Sure. Wharever. Wan'... want a drink?” She indicated her mug, frowning at it.

  “Are you trying to get yourself smashed right now?”

  “Maybe. This one's my second. On the far end of tipsy, sliding into drunk. Not quite there yet...”

  “Come on,” Zaine said, all authority, getting to her side and yanking her up by the elbow. Their hands brushed momentarily—his hot skin with her cool air. The contrast made him shiver in delight. “Let's take you home.”

  “No!” She flushed furiously. “Not home! Not to my home.”

  Zaine blinked at her outburst. A wild notion entered his head then, of taking her to his mansion. But that was over an hour away, and he couldn't well be seen with her by his side. He needed to keep her a secret. “Can I buy a room?” he asked the tavern keeper, who nodded.

  “Three silver. Got the one room spare—double bed.”

  Zaine didn't have any silvers or bronze, so he tossed one gold ark, told the keeper to pocket the change, and dragged Mia upstairs to the room that had been mentioned, even as the tavern owner gaped at the shimmering gold coin.

  Mia attempted to swat him off her. “I'm not that drunk. I don't need help.”

  He resisted her efforts, praying she wouldn't start using any of her powers, because it would drain his strength so fast, she'd know for sure what he was... He hissed as her head leaned on his shoulder, and her hair tickled his stubbled cheek. Her simple tunic seemed so thin right now. One good press, and he'd be touching skin. Arousal gibbered inside him, rearing its ugly head, almost frightening him with the intensity of it. As if his soul had bloomed inside his body, wanting nothing more than to claw out and touch her, indulge himself in the danger she promised. Her cold breath on his hot lips, the blue glow of his weakness gathering up from her body, focusing into a gem. Eyes glazed in lust, in a deep, dark, ravenous longing.

  No! he thought, reining in some semblance of control. I'm here only to hire her. To keep the danger underfoot. Not to sleep with it.

  But no sooner had he managed to bundle Mia into the room and shut the dark wooden door, she stepped backwards from him, staring into his eyes with an odd expression. Like she was memorizing every last feature about him. “There's something about you,” she said, her voice a low growl, sending more ripples through Zaine, and a powerful jolt to his cock. He willed it to stay down, but if she kept starin
g like that...

  “Oh?” he said, after a careful pause. He quickly took in the drab room, the white sheets upon the bed, the tiny nightstand with an unlit gas lamp, and trickles of daylight flooding through the thin curtains. The dragon inside him wanted to both attack her and fuck her at the same time. Attack the danger. Suppress it.

  Subdue it. Control it.

  “I feel this weird kind of energy about you. I don't know how else to describe it. You're off, somehow, and I can't quite put my finger upon it.”

  His mouth opened and closed, thinking of a response. Did she sense the dragon inside him, even when obscured by his human form? “Should I take offense at this?”

  The iceblood woman stepped closer. Zaine saw a topaz necklace with a kind of wicker-woven chain supporting it. She didn't wear any rings. Didn't seem to understand what kind of effect her scent had on him, or the way those lips pursed up to speak, revealing the merest tip of her tongue. “Someone like you must have lots of enemies, Zaine,” she whispered, now reaching a palm to cup his cheek. Lost in some faraway thoughts of her own. “Powerful enemies.” Then she inhaled sharply. Her hand felt cool to his warm flesh. “So warm... what is it? What is this energy?”

  She moved her head closer to him. Impossibly close, as if she could taste the dragon inside him upon her lips. He leaned forward slightly, lips tantalizingly close. Just a little closer.

  Her hips brushed against the now conspicuous bulge in his black pants, and a wicked, sultry smile teased her lips. Along with a flash of something primal in the fathomless depths of her eyes. With strength that defied her small stature, she pushed him against the door, before placing her cool mouth against his neck, lips soft, tongue wet. Zaine groaned quietly as she pressed into him, shuddering in excitement as her lips moved from his neck to his chin.

  He swept her mouth up in his, fingers now dancing across her back, and their breaths mingled. He dug his fingers into her clothes, heart thumping in his throat. “No,” he managed to croak, though he hated himself for even uttering those words. His grip loosened. “We—we need to cool it down.”