Rhianna worked next to her. "What happened between you and Zavien?"

Bryn frowned. How much should she share? Rhianna was nice, but they weren't close.

"He misled me about something and he hasn't apologized. He keeps telling me I'm wrong to be upset."

Rhianna dipped her roller in the blue paint. "If you're upset, then he should respect your feelings and do something to make you feel better, rather than telling you you're wrong."

Exactly. "Would you mind pointing that out to him? He doesn't see it that way."

Laughter drifted across the stage. Bryn's gaze shot up to see who was having such a good time. Zavien stood off to the side of the stage with a small group of students, including Nola.

Resentment welled up inside her. Why wouldn't Zavien be having a good time? He'd had friends before she'd come along. He didn't need her, and he probably wouldn't miss her. But she had had three friends and was now down to two.

She slammed her roller into the paint tray. "Can you clean up by yourself? I have to get out of here."

"Sure." Rhianna gave her a sad smile. "I'll tell Ivy you left."

Bryn fled the auditorium and ran down a side hall. She leaned against a wall with her eyes squeezed shut. She would not cry again. She'd cried enough over that jacka.s.s. Once her tear ducts were under control, she found the closest exit, shifted into dragon form, and took off into the night sky.

The cool evening air flowed around her body, washing away some of her anger. If she could stay up here for a while, maybe she'd be all right. Then again, she'd have to come down eventually. When she did, she'd need good company. Pumping her wings to gain speed, she aimed for Dragon's Bluff. Valmont would make her feel better. How would she find his cabin from the air? She circled the forested area where she thought his cabin stood. All of the greenery looked the same. Change in plans. Fly to Fonzoli's. If he wasn't working, they'd know how to reach him.

The street in front of the restaurant was empty. She shifted as soon as her claws touched cement and stumbled a few steps. The chilly evening air, which she'd enjoyed in dragon form, gave her goose b.u.mps. Rubbing her arms, she hustled into the restaurant.

The hostess greeted her. "Table for one?"

"Is Valmont working?"

"Yes. Would you like to sit in his section?"

She wanted Valmont to skip out on work and distract her from her sucky life, but she'd take what she could get.

Seated at a table for two, it took ten seconds for Valmont to spot her. He slid into the chair across from her. "Everything all right?"

"No."

His eyebrows drew together. "Can I beat him up now?"

Valmont may have been a descendent of knights, blessed with superior strength and trained to fight dragons, but she wasn't sure he could take on Zavien.

"If I can't beat him up, you can't."

He undid the top few b.u.t.tons of his work shirt. "Want to get out of here?"

"Yes."

Taking her hand, he pulled her back into the kitchen. "Grandpa, we're going to the cabin."

Since her last visit to the cabin, he'd added blue throw pillows to the couch. She pointed at them. "Those are new."

"My sister said the couch looked sad. She gave me the pillows as a housewarming gift. If I keep having her over, I won't have to decorate."

Bryn pointed at the only other decorative item in the cabin. "Did she give you the swords?"

Valmont walked to the fireplace. He pulled down the two swords hanging above the mantel. "No. These are real broadswords. Everyone in Dragon's Bluff receives swords on their sixteenth birthday as a reminder of who we truly are. We train as a way to stay in shape and to keep our skills sharp." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Bryn groaned. "Was that an intentional pun?"

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Bryn accepted the sword he held out to her. It wasn't as heavy as she thought it would be. "Can you teach me how to use this?"

"Sure, let's go out back."

"Isn't it too dark?"

"Nope." They stepped out the back door into the twilight. Valmont flipped a switch, and lanterns hanging from the eaves of the house bathed the backyard in warm yellow light. It would have been beautiful except for the fir trees that resembled short telephone poles scattered about the yard. Most of the branches had been cut off, and they were only a bit taller than Valmont.

Bryn pointed at one of the oddities. "Is that some sort of knightly landscaping?"

"No. I want to clear this area to make room for a picnic table and a barbecue grill. Cutting down trees is great for sword practice."

He pointed toward a stump about ten feet away. "Sit over there and watch. You'll understand how knights can defend themselves."

Valmont swung at a branch five inches thick. He cut through the limb like it was made of cream cheese. Swinging the blade in a reverse arc, he sliced through another thick branch.

Maybe he could fight a dragon. "I'm impressed."

He smiled and waved her over. "We're going to focus on your form. Keep both hands on the pommel and swing in fluid figure eights. Do not bring the sword down and hit yourself in the leg."

Being careful, Bryn swung the sword in an awkward figure eight. After a few tries, the movement became more fluid.

"I'm doing it."

"You're ready to chop wood." Valmont stepped well out of range. "Try the smaller branches first."

She aimed at a two-inch branch and the sword pa.s.sed right through. A six-inch branch met the same fate. Cool. Bringing her arm down with force, she sliced diagonally through the trunk of the tree. The top third fell to the pine needles below, stirring the woodsy scent.

Valmont whistled. "Very nice. I don't think I could manage that."

Bryn wiped sweat from her brow and struck a pose. "I'm a bada.s.s."

He laughed. "Yes, you are. Want something to drink?"

"Sure."

Back in the kitchen, he showed her the proper way to wipe down a sword. Then they sat at the kitchen table drinking iced tea. Valmont kept her amused with stories about his family.

"Your grandmother did not threaten your grandfather with a meat cleaver over a bottle of olive oil." Bryn laughed.

"Yes, she did." He grinned. "Never mess with an Italian woman's pantry. Things will turn ugly."

Time flew too quickly. Bryn frowned as she glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to nine. "I should go."

"Let me drive you." Valmont pulled the keys from his pocket.

"I can fly back," she said.

"You could. But then I'd worry about you." He stood. "Come on. It'll take less time if you don't argue."

Why am I arguing? If she could hold on to the happy feeling she had around Valmont, life would be so much better. On the ride back to the inst.i.tute, she willed her good mood to continue. The warm feeling drained away as soon as she stepped foot on campus. Valmont walked her to her dorm with his arm around her shoulders.

When they were within ten feet of her door, she spotted Zavien coming down the sidewalk returning from Stagecraft.

Zavien stalked forward; a deep, rumbling growl came from his throat.

Valmont chuckled. "If seeing her with someone else upsets you, maybe you should've treated her better."

Bryn held her breath as she waited for him to respond. The scent of ozone filling the air meant Zavien was battling for control of his breath weapon-which for Black dragons was lightning. The fact that he was disturbed enough to become unstable meant he cared, right?

"Figure out your apology yet?" Bryn asked.

"What do you want me to say? You know how I feel about Valmont."

Flames banked in Bryn's chest. "I know you're jealous of him." Smoke drifted from her lips. "How do you feel about me?"

Chapter Twelve.

"You know I-" Half a dozen students came around the corner of the building, and Zavien snapped his mouth shut.

Oh no he didn't. "What? Now you won't talk to me in public?"

Zavien met her gaze, turned away and entered the dorm.

He would not leave her hanging like this. d.a.m.n it. She lurched forward to grab his arm. Valmont's hand anch.o.r.ed her to the sidewalk. "You don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

"He needs to be the one chasing after you, not the other way around."

A low growl escaped her throat. Her knight made sense, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Over the next several days, Bryn caught fleeting glances of Zavien. Whenever she came near, he stormed in the other direction. To take her mind off the cowardly jacka.s.s, she decided to start on one of her papers for history cla.s.s. She could write the papers about anything she wanted, so why not research the time before the Directorate took over? There had to be other hybrids back then. If the folktales she heard were true, the whole point of the arranged marriages was to force dragons to marry within Clans to keep certain powers from coming to light.

If there was even one hybrid who had married and had kids and their kids had kids, then there must be some hybrids still walking around somewhere. Right? According to the folktales she'd heard, Wraith Nightshade had been the most powerful hybrid. He had wielded some sort of mind control or super-charisma. Countless kingdoms had fallen to his charm or his sword. Eventually, his wife had betrayed him and his reign had ended. Why did she do that? If Wraith had been like Ferrin, that would explain it.

After spending several hours in the library, all she had was a bunch of theories and no proof. If there were any records that Wraith had truly existed, they must be kept behind locked doors.

By Friday evening, Bryn's anger toward Zavien had transformed into a slow, boiling fury.

Armed with a plate piled high with chicken fingers and fries, she joined Clint and Ivy at their usual table in the dining hall.

Ivy snagged a french fry from her plate. "You look like a volcano ready to blow."

Fair description. "So far I've come up with six ways to kill Zavien and make it look like an accident."

Clint reached across the table and confiscated her b.u.t.ter knife. "Rather than commit murder, why don't you talk to him?"

He could keep the knife. At this point she could kill Zavien with her bare hands. "I've tried. The coward keeps running away."

"We could help you corner him somewhere," Ivy said.

"When you say corner him, it sounds like you're saying kidnap him and tie him to a chair," Clint said.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Ivy asked.

"No." Clint shook his head. "Just making sure we're all on the same page."

Valmont's advice echoed in her head. "Zavien should be the one chasing after me. What if he decides I'm too much trouble? What if he doesn't care enough to make the effort?"

Ivy reached across the table and squeezed Bryn's hand. "Then he's an idiot."

The ache that had taken up a permanent place in her chest throbbed for a moment. "I wish I could erase him from my head."

"Try thinking about something else," Clint said.

Right. Like it was that easy.

After dinner, back in her room, she searched for something to distract her from the sucky state of her love life. Jaxon's question from the dance popped into her mind. How had Alec known the layout of her grandparents' estate? Blueprints must be available somewhere. Either that or someone familiar with the layout had fed Alec information.

If Alec had murdered Jaxon, Lillith, and her, who would benefit? Alec would achieve his revenge, but who else would profit from his actions? The Directorate would crack down on the entire dragon community. Some dragons would rebel. If the Directorate went too far, it might lead to mutiny or civil war.

The Black dragons who lived in the forest had little love for the Directorate. The Orange dragons believed their decrease in numbers was somehow the governing body's fault. Had the Directorate done something to keep the Orange Clan's population low? The sonic wave Octavius produced in cla.s.s was impressive. If hundreds of Orange dragons worked together they could probably take out a building or an army.

This was a cheery line of thought. Maybe if she thought of it as a puzzle, she could figure something out. And since she was looking for blueprints, doc.u.ments that she knew existed, this search should turn out better than her quest for hybrids. And she knew just who to ask for help.