Page 149 of Nine-Tenths

I tuck my fouled hand under my armpit.

"What happened?" Hadi asks.

"The way Dav tells it, Frankie boy was supposed to be sent home from Wellington's regiment when the fighting got serious with the Americans, but he got shot before he could. They weren't sure if he would live, so Dav was recruited to take his place and…" she shrugs.

"He won the Battle of Lundy's Lane and burnt down the Presidential Mansion," I fill in. "And was gifted a march as a result."

Onatah snorts a plume of smoke at the inadequate description of the injustice done to her grandfather.

"And the people of color whoarepart of the hoard, who chose them?" Hadi presses.

"Dav did," Onatah says. "Later. When he had someone to help him make better decisions."

Charlotte,I realize.Oh, fuck. That'll be my job. Dav will expect me to help him… pick people to Collect. To entrap.

Hadi makes a frustrated noise and blurts: "So, what, the gift of long life and good health is just for white folks? After they took over half the world and killed all ofourdragons? That's bullshit!" Hadi scowls. "Whites as a deliberately cultivated invasive species."

"Exactly," Pedra says, voice hitching. She's shaking. We're all shaking. Right down to our bones. "It's population control. It'sselective breeding."

Revulsion shakes up my spine, and my mug judders so hard I slosh all over my thighs.

That's what Simcoe meant.

That's what he…

Oh, god, I'm gonna puke.

I swallow more coffee instead to keep my gorge down. "And what, I'm supposed to go back there and help Dav with that? After… after what happened today? No way."

"No, you don't have to. Dav doesn't want—he's never wanted… fuck." Onatah shakes out her shoulders, releasing her frustration.

"What do you mean,what happened today?" Hadi asks.

I lift my arm, turn it outwards, so everyone can see the horrible bruise I've been hiding. "Touching another dragon is a no-no."

"The fuck is that," Hadi snarls, jumping to her feet and grabbing my arm. "First he stabs you and now, what's this, did he try to eat you?"

"It wasn't his fault." I drag my arm back, tuck it against my pooch, skooch down in the chair, feeling exposed.

"If you make a single joke about walking into a doorknob I'm going to kick his ass myself."

"When another dragon touches a Favorite, leaves their scent on them, a dragon goes… feral," Onatah says. "Or, they do if they're touch-starved idiot settlers."

"So your favorite, Nîcimos, they're not out of bounds?" I guess.

"Why would they be?" Onatah asks. "My beloved is an extension of me, and I of my beloved. And we are all Wahkohtowin. This—" she sneers, gesturing at the ruin of my neck. "—only happens when you lock a Favorite away like a jewel in a vault."

Hadi turns a horrified expression to Onatah. "Why would you touch him, then?"

"It wasn't me," Onatah says.

"It was that fucker Simcoe," I explain. "I shook his hand when he left the house—"

"Why was he at your house?"

"It's notmine. He came to try and talk Dav out of me, and then they fought and I made Simcoe leave and—"

"On purpose?" Hadi demands. "And he knew Dav would react like that?"

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