Page 107 of The Last Slayer
All the other stuff that was going on retreated to the back of my mind as I gazed at the armor. It was exquisitely made, meticulously detailed. And a live wyvern to watch my back! What a bonus. If I had to fight, I wanted all the help I could get.
“Go ahead. Try ’er on,” Dorian said.
Toshi held out both foreclaws and a dressing room appeared. I nodded and went inside with the armor. It was impossibly light, hardly weighing more than a t-shirt. The wyvern heads converged where my skin touched the cool metal and inhaled my scent. Their breath tickled me, but I was careful not to make any sudden movements. The last thing I wanted was to startle them. Getting bitten by my own armor would suck.
I took off my clothes and slipped into the armor, which was more like a body canister with built-in socks. The legs were entirely too wide. Actually, everything was too big and awkward. But the moment I put it on it began to shrink and mold to my body. Soon it fit perfectly, light as silk against my skin. When I swung my arms and kicked my legs it stretched and provided extra tension, giving the movements a smooth power they wouldn’t have had otherwise.
It was truly alive and fused with me. Totally cool. No more need for Under Armour when I had the real deal.
“If you’re finished, milady…” Toshi said from the outside.
I smiled. It reminded me of shopping with Valerie, except she was never as deferential as Toshi. I came out of the room to show off my new “outfit.”
Dorian made a few grunting noises and fussed over the armor here and there. His fingers pinched, tweaked and tugged at my sleeves, around my waist and my toes. He climbed up on a stool to adjust the neck and shoulders.
“How much protection does this provide against dragonlord swords?” I said.
“It’ll keep your ladyship alive, ?
??less she receives a direct ’it to a vital organ,” Dorian said.
“It will also regulate your body temperature,” Toshi added helpfully.
Dorian straightened and looked up at me. “That’s got it. Not ’alf bad, if I do say so meself.”
“You look quite dashing, milady.” Toshi beamed toothily. “I believe Lord Ramiel and his generals are ready for you.”
I thanked Dorian and left with Toshi, who made my old clothes vanish with a wave of his claws.
It wasn’t until I reached Ramiel’s antechamber that it hit me. Toshi didn’t mean Ramiel wanted to introduce me to his troops. He meant we were going to get briefed for battle.
Normally the suddenness wouldn’t have bothered me. I’m fine with fast and violent. But shouldn’t there have been some training? Demigod Killing 101 or something?
Ramiel and his generals were seated around a large table. The generals looked like handsome men, except that each of them was of a single vivid color from head to toe. Their skin, teeth and fingernails—all were of the same hue. They looked almost cartoonish…like coloring book figures when a child was down to just a few crayons. Most of them were some variation of red or silver—although no two were precisely the same shade—and green was also well represented. I could smell their dragon breath. It wasn’t foul, but it was different—deep and slow, as if they were sleeping, with a hint of sulfur. Each of them had an armor motif to designate its real form: wyvern, wyrm or drake. Not all dragons can change form, and even those that can generally don’t like to transform into mortal shape. But if they had remained at full size, no one would have been able to see the table.
Ramiel raised an eyebrow slightly when I entered the chamber. “Armor becomes you.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat. Ramiel’s stoic expression made me seventy-five percent annoyed, twenty percent confused and five percent nervous. His face might be blank, but his eyes seethed. Did he feel anything when he looked at me other than lust? Or was he keeping me off-balance with those cool incubus-demigod powers of his? “You look nice in yours too.”
I sat in the only empty chair. The table held refreshments—dainty sandwiches, tea and some wine—compliments of Toshi, no doubt. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought it was a social call. I picked up a tall glass of iced tea and glanced around.
“Where is Eastvale?” I said.
“Perhaps not coincidentally, not far from where you used to live,” Ramiel said. A map appeared, hovering in the air over the table, and he pointed at a spot in Fair Lakes, of all places. “This tract of land.”
Disappointment hit me hard. I did my best to hide it, but it was difficult. I thought I was getting something as pretty as the Lunar Garden or as impressive as Besade. The plot on which Ramiel’s finger rested was wooded, and I had always thought it was owned by the county or the state because it had never been developed. I was going to risk my life—and everyone else’s—for that?
I wanted my condo back.
Ramiel must have sensed what I was thinking. “Once you get there you may find it more to your liking.”
Huh. Easy for him to say. What was I going to do with an undeveloped patch of land? Go camping?
The wyvern on my right bowed. He was the color of a boiled lobster. “Tiamo at your service, milady. If I may speak…?”
I nodded.
“All dragonholds have barriers that serve as camouflage to hide them from mortals and to keep intruders out. Eastvale is a beautiful dragonhold, one that you will be proud to call your own.”
