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Authors: Cinda Williams Chima
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at each end of the room. “Can't you at least try to
understand?”
“I understand you better
than you realize.”
“Why? The Roses killed
your father and sister a hundred years ago so you understand how I feel about
Leicester and D'Orsay murdering my father?”
“Because I know what it's
like to want to prove yourself so badly it destroys everything else that
matters,” Hastings replied, gazing into the fire. “Sometimes it's
just an excuse to avoid dealing with your own demons.”
So now Hastings was a
psychiatrist, in addition to being a wizard and warrior master. Jason bit back
a hot reply. “Look. I'm an orphan. Like you were. No one cares what
happens to me. It's my choice. Mine.”
“I assumed responsibility
for you when I brought you to Britain.”
Jason noticed that Hastings
didn't claim to care about him. “Please. I want to help.” He was
perilously close to begging. “Jack and Ellen are out drilling their
warriors. That's what they're good at. Seph is maintaining the barrier. I can't
do any of that. I want to be where I'm useful.”
“The most useful thing
you can do for me now is to get the sword and the rest back to Trinity,”
Hastings said, without looking up. “Have Nick take a look at the blade. It
may very well be one of the seven. If it is, pass it along to Ellen. She
deserves a weapon worthy of her skills. She and Jack may play a critical role
if it comes to a war.”
Nick. Ellen. Seph. Jack. All
important to the Cause. Everyone was except him.
Jason knew the argument was
over. His mistake was thinking Hastings was actually participating. He slumped
back into his chair. “When will you come back to Trinity?”
The wizard shrugged.
“Soon, I hope. I'm going to try to find out what's going on at Raven's
Ghyll. Whether it's been noticed that things have gone missing, and whether
they may be on your trail. Maybe I can muddy the water a bit. Draw them
off.”
And that, as they say, was
that. Jason's brief career as operative for the Dragon House was over.
Jason fell asleep on the tube
on the way back to his apartment, missing the Mornington Crescent station and
getting off at Camden Town. He walked back through the city streets to clear
his head. On his way, he stopped in at an Internet cafe and booked a flight
from Heathrow to New York that departed the following morning.
So the man loitering near the
Underground exits at Mornington Crescent with a photograph of Jason Haley
didn't spot him there.
Jason stopped in to see a girl
who lived in the building next door to his own. They ordered pizza and he
stayed late. By then, it was sleeting. The buildings were set atop a common
cellar, so he passed through the laundries into his own building without going
outside.
So the woman sheltering in the
entryway of Jason's apartment building didn't realize her fox had gone to
ground.
Back in his room, Jason packed
up his meager belongings. He'd planned to take the train from Euston, but now
Hastings had gone and made him jumpy. In the end, he called a car service and
booked a car to pick him up at 4 a.m. He gave his name as Bob Roberts and
didn't name a destination. He'd bring his backpack as a carry-on, and convince
the airline to let him gate-check the golf bag with the sword in it. Golfers were
funny about letting go of their clubs, weren't they?
He'd only been in the UK for a
few months. He hoped his banishment wouldn't last long.
Heir 3 - The Dragon Heir
Chapter Four The Art of the Deal
Leesha Middleton shook the
snow from her curls and extended her frozen hands toward the fire. Why couldn't
Claude D'Orsay den up in Belize for the winter, like any sane person?
She glanced around the parlor
with an educated eye. Everything had a stuffy, old-money look, like the museum
rooms at her grandparents' estates. They smelled the same, too—like cigars and leather and old men's musty wool
cardigans. Leesha ran a finger under her high-necked sweater and touched the
gold
understand?”
“I understand you better
than you realize.”
“Why? The Roses killed
your father and sister a hundred years ago so you understand how I feel about
Leicester and D'Orsay murdering my father?”
“Because I know what it's
like to want to prove yourself so badly it destroys everything else that
matters,” Hastings replied, gazing into the fire. “Sometimes it's
just an excuse to avoid dealing with your own demons.”
So now Hastings was a
psychiatrist, in addition to being a wizard and warrior master. Jason bit back
a hot reply. “Look. I'm an orphan. Like you were. No one cares what
happens to me. It's my choice. Mine.”
“I assumed responsibility
for you when I brought you to Britain.”
Jason noticed that Hastings
didn't claim to care about him. “Please. I want to help.” He was
perilously close to begging. “Jack and Ellen are out drilling their
warriors. That's what they're good at. Seph is maintaining the barrier. I can't
do any of that. I want to be where I'm useful.”
“The most useful thing
you can do for me now is to get the sword and the rest back to Trinity,”
Hastings said, without looking up. “Have Nick take a look at the blade. It
may very well be one of the seven. If it is, pass it along to Ellen. She
deserves a weapon worthy of her skills. She and Jack may play a critical role
if it comes to a war.”
Nick. Ellen. Seph. Jack. All
important to the Cause. Everyone was except him.
Jason knew the argument was
over. His mistake was thinking Hastings was actually participating. He slumped
back into his chair. “When will you come back to Trinity?”
The wizard shrugged.
“Soon, I hope. I'm going to try to find out what's going on at Raven's
Ghyll. Whether it's been noticed that things have gone missing, and whether
they may be on your trail. Maybe I can muddy the water a bit. Draw them
off.”
And that, as they say, was
that. Jason's brief career as operative for the Dragon House was over.
Jason fell asleep on the tube
on the way back to his apartment, missing the Mornington Crescent station and
getting off at Camden Town. He walked back through the city streets to clear
his head. On his way, he stopped in at an Internet cafe and booked a flight
from Heathrow to New York that departed the following morning.
So the man loitering near the
Underground exits at Mornington Crescent with a photograph of Jason Haley
didn't spot him there.
Jason stopped in to see a girl
who lived in the building next door to his own. They ordered pizza and he
stayed late. By then, it was sleeting. The buildings were set atop a common
cellar, so he passed through the laundries into his own building without going
outside.
So the woman sheltering in the
entryway of Jason's apartment building didn't realize her fox had gone to
ground.
Back in his room, Jason packed
up his meager belongings. He'd planned to take the train from Euston, but now
Hastings had gone and made him jumpy. In the end, he called a car service and
booked a car to pick him up at 4 a.m. He gave his name as Bob Roberts and
didn't name a destination. He'd bring his backpack as a carry-on, and convince
the airline to let him gate-check the golf bag with the sword in it. Golfers were
funny about letting go of their clubs, weren't they?
He'd only been in the UK for a
few months. He hoped his banishment wouldn't last long.
Heir 3 - The Dragon Heir
Chapter Four The Art of the Deal
Leesha Middleton shook the
snow from her curls and extended her frozen hands toward the fire. Why couldn't
Claude D'Orsay den up in Belize for the winter, like any sane person?
She glanced around the parlor
with an educated eye. Everything had a stuffy, old-money look, like the museum
rooms at her grandparents' estates. They smelled the same, too—like cigars and leather and old men's musty wool
cardigans. Leesha ran a finger under her high-necked sweater and touched the
gold
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