Page 204 of Nine-Tenths

"Let go of her!" I shout. "Somebody help her! Dav!"

"I… I don't know what to…" Dav stammers, curling his arm over my shoulder to keep me from launching myself at the abusive asshole.

"Can’tyouCollect her?" I hiss. "Can’t you—"

"I don’t know," Dav confesses. "Mine Own, I don’t—"

"Enough, Frank," Laura snarls. "Isn't itenoughyet?"

"Pick it up!" Simcoe orders her. Laura doesn't move. "I saidpick it up,you stupidbitch!"

Above us, scandalized dragons hiss as one. Leicester springs over the rail of the royal box and scoops up Laura's token, before retreating back up the stairs with all the gravity of processing a dead body.

Simcoe remembers, suddenly, that he has an audience. He looks down at Laura's arm, then up at the dragons watching him.Judginghim. Simcoe lets go. Then he whirls on us.

"Frank,please," Dav tries, placating. "Calm."

"Calm!" Frank snarls. He's got a new target now. "You and your snowflake feminaziFavorites! You never learn, Alva!"

"I'm not the snowflake here—" I protest.

"Control your mouthy little twink or I'll do it for you—"

"You willnot!" I yelp.

"You never learn, Alva, younever—"

Laura gasps, scuttling up the stairs, breathing ragged, Jesus Christ, she'sbleeding. There's a gash in her bicep. She's staring at the blood, dumbfounded. "You…" she gasps, sucking on the air like she's been drowning for two hundred years, and has finally surfaced. "You selfish…fuck."

Faster than I can follow, Simcoe whirls and lunges for Laura. She ducks away, but too slow, humanlyslow, and everyone in the room surges to their feet, gasping in horror, because it's clear that he means to—that he'll—and she's hisFavorite—how could—

Several of Simcoe's back-bench dragons get there first.

Simcoe draws up short when a woman hisses in his face, mouth sparking. The others shuffle Laura to the back of the courtroom, protecting the treasure that her own dragon has forgotten holds value.

"Andthisis the chaos that you will allow these two youngfoolsto sow among our court?" Simcoe seethes.

"It ismycourt, Lord Simcoe," the queen reminds him darkly. "And we will haveorderin it."

"Your Majesty!" Simcoe protests.

The queen addresses me. "Your argument, Colin Dragon's Own, is that we should return colonies to the Indigenous dragons because they can manage them better than we can, isolated on our throne?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I say nervously, glancing between the queen, and Simcoe, and Laura. Someone in a paramedic's uniform is already seeing to her arm. Why don't they take her to safety? I don't—

"Master Levesque!" the queen says, voice like a whip-crack, and I yank my attention back to her. "Proceed!"

Laura's safe, I tell myself.She's got a wall of scales between her and Simcoe.

I can do this. Laura needs you to do this. Focus.

I step out from behind Dav. "Here's the thing, Your Majesty and, um, distinguished dragons and humans of the court, up there," I say lamely, craning my head up to the gallery and waving. "Hi, by the way."

Someone chuckles, but it's not mean.

Simcoe is so disgusted he spits. A smoldering hole appears in the carpet.

"Listen, I get it, there was Empire-mania going around. Europe’s crowded. Territories are divided and subdivided and sub-subdivided. After centuries and centuries of nesting here, to be promised a wide-open New World devoid of dragons and rich with resources? It sounds tempting as hell, Iget it,okay."

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