The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1)

Chapter 17

"Oh, hell no," I said. "I've just been shot. I don't need to be tortured too."

Paris De Lange regarded me with equal distaste. She had clearly just rolled out of bed. Her normally immaculately styled hair was twined into a disheveled braid, and a plush burgundy sleeping mask rested above her hairline. I briefly wondered what time it was, not thinking it to be late enough to sleep yet. Then again, Paris was a doctor, so she probably kept weird sleeping habits.

Paris wrapped her scarlet silk robe tighter around her, her sharp eyes snapping to my wound. She sniffed the air and hissed. "More Scarlet Steel? What the hell happened now?"

"We were attacked at the arcade," Aden said as he pulled me inside. I looked around. It was neatly furnished with modern looking furniture and wall art. A black leather couch sat beside the door, and I plopped down on it as Aden turned to face Paris.

"Was it Frost?" Paris asked. "I heard about the ruling."

"No." Aden's face was grim. "It looked like Imperial guards."

Paris gasped softly. "Do you think he knows?"

"For all our sakes, I hope not."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "Am I in some sort of danger?"

Aden and Paris turned to me, as if noticing I was there for the first time. "Probably more radicals," Paris said, waving away the notion. "The Blood Brotherhood has always been extreme in their demonstrations. I wouldn't be too concerned. Aden will get to the bottom of it, I am sure."

I remembered opening the door that night to find the group of red robed men standing before me, branding Mrs. Knight as a traitor to her race. "It wasn't radicals, though, was it? You're hiding something, both of you."

"I need to go," Aden said, stepping around Paris. "I'll be in touch as soon as I know something." He looked back at me one last time before closing the door behind him.

I stared after him. What were they not telling me? What precious secret were they trying to keep hidden?

Paris crossed her arms and looked me over. "Aden has his hands full being your guardian, an appropriate punishment on Frost's account." She sighed irritably and motioned for me to follow her. "Come, come. Let's get that arm stitched up."

The hallway was full of framed photographs, most of which were Paris and a handsome, dark haired man. She looked different, happier.

We settled in the kitchen, me at the table while Paris stood at the counter sterilizing a needle. I squeezed my eyes closed, my skin all of sudden clammy as the image of the needle rooted itself in my mind. There was the strong smell of antiseptic before Paris plunked down a small glass of red liquid beside me. "Drink this. It'll help."

I sniffed the liquid. It didn't look like blood, so I took a sip. The bittersweet wine flowed along my tongue and down my throat. I didn't mind wine. I'd had it before at my Mom's Christmas parties. Even after Orion died, she had still thrown extravagant parties after becoming Sovereign.

She didn't have time to mourn, not with so many important people to impress.

The wine was laced with blood. I could taste it the moment it hit my tongue, and I wondered whose it was. My nerves loosened up the more I drank, and I felt my mind begin to freely probe Paris' thoughts and emotions as glamour leaked out of me. Paris removed the tourniquet and applied antiseptic, wiping away the dried blood so she could get a clear view of the wound. It stung a little, but for the most part I felt blissfully numb.