Smoke and Fire: Part 1 by Donna Grant Page B

would say. His attention was on one thing—bringing down Con.
    “It’s like the humans believing fairies are small, winged creatures with pointy ears,” Mikkel said.
    Taraeth merely smiled aloofly. “But we’re not mortals. We’ve lived for billions of years. We travel from realm to realm, and our magic is feared by many. The Fae aren’t some mindless cattle to be swayed by a myth or two.”
    “But you’ve never seen a Reaper.”
    “And I hope I never do. That doesn’t, however, mean I don’t believe they’re here. My people all over the U.K. claimed to see Dark fall dead for no apparent reason. That’s one of the modes of the Reapers. Then there was mention of a white-haired Fae with red-rimmed white eyes.”
    Mikkel sat forward, suddenly interested. “White eyes?”
    “The Reapers are Fae who are given greater power, speed, and whatever else Death wishes. They’re not to be messed with.”
    “But I’m a Dragon King,” Mikkel said. He set his glass on the sofa, then rose and walked from the room.
    Taraeth watched him, waiting until the doors closed behind Mikkel before he said, “You’re not a Dragon King.”

Chapter Eight
    Through the countless decades, there had been numerous conversations between Ryder and Con about Ulrik. Ryder hated spying on Ulrik. No matter what Ryder suggested, Con wouldn’t allow Ulrik to just live his life.
    Over the last few months Ryder was focused on Ulrik in a way he’d never been before—and even more so now because the thought of Ulrik pulling Kinsey into this war sent Ryder into a frenzy.
    Ryder had every camera in Perth looking for Ulrik’s face or his car. Anything to prove that the banished Dragon King was there.
    Ulrik proved time and again that he’d do whatever it took to hurt the Dragon Kings. That usually meant he targeted their lovers.
    Ryder’s blood went cold at the thought of something happening to Kinsey. She had been on her own for three years, and nothing had happened. But that didn’t mean nothing would happen either.
    The fact she’d been sent to Dreagan was like cannon fire over the estate. Someone was making a point. No, Ryder corrected himself. Ulrik was making a point.
    The question was what?
    Ulrik could’ve gotten to her and killed Kinsey easily. Why hadn’t he? Why had he brought her to Dreagan?
    None of her tech held any signs of a virus or being tampered with. Ryder checked them all three times just to be sure. Her bag, her purse, and even her car had been thoroughly examined. Still, they found nothing.
    Unless … Kinsey was the Trojan horse.
    Ryder swung his head toward her. She far surpassed most individuals who worked with computers doing the intricate things she did. She was kind and sweet, willing to help anyone who needed it. But she wasn’t a good actress.
    He’d always been able to tell when she lied about anything. Since she walked through the door, she’d been telling the truth.
    Yet others had been fooled. Darcy, for one. Ulrik and his old Druid had gone to tremendous lengths to make Darcy think her magic remained, when in fact it had left her the moment she helped Ulrik.
    Then there was Iona. Her father was murdered just to get her back to Scotland so Ulrik and the Dark Fae could access Dreagan.
    “What is it?” Kinsey asked when she caught him staring.
    Ryder shrugged, not wanting to tell her his thoughts just yet. “I’m thinking.”
    “Apparently hard by the way your forehead is creased. It’s about what’s going on, isn’t it?”
    He gave a slow nod. His gaze landed on the box of donuts, and for the first time, he didn’t want one.
    “Just tell me,” Kinsey urged as she swiveled her chair to face him.
    “No’ yet.”
    “Why?” she pressed, her voice edged with a hint of aggravation. She suspected he was hiding something.
    Ryder shoved a lock of hair off his forehead. “I need to get it all sorted in my head first.”
    “You look worried. Talking it out helps.”
    He paused his fingers as he typed