Luck’s saggy balls! Tiria curses herself. That’s what I get for trying to grab an interesting specimen without wondering why it’s there.

  Looking back, the furor that had drawn her there in the first place should have told her that she was dealing with something out of the ordinary. Cliffs don’t just collapse quietly and carefully without intervention, and anything that’s scary enough to chase five Tier two yelnas away with their stubby tails between their legs is something that even a mage should take seriously.

  But what she had seen in the young dragon had blinded her to anything else. A beast with a Class! The prospect of finally making a breakthrough in the research she’d been doing for almost a decade had put all else out of her mind.

  Anyway, she’d expected to be in and out with no trouble – the subjugation orb usually worked to subdue its target within flickers, and then her special transportation pouch would have received the young dragon easily. Even if she’d had an angry Tier three dragon mother on her heels, as long as she made it to her tower in time, she’d have been fine. Or I should have been, with as many enchantments as are on the place. The delicious prospect of finally cracking the code of Classes more than made it worth the risk.

  So much for that. Instead of the manageable risk of an angry Tier three, she seems to have angered an even more powerful foe – the heir to a Great House. And of course it would be Titanbend, she thought angrily to herself. What’s the heir of Titanbend doing here? I hadn’t even heard they had an heir!

  Of course, it’s possible that the man is lying about his identity, but Tiria doubts it. She vaguely recognises the woman accompanying him – she’s a mage too, and one sponsored by Titanbend. The equipment the man is wearing looks well-made and expensive. And the number and power of beasts currently surrounding them indicate the man is a powerful Tamer – which fits very well with that House.

  Tiria can’t help but notice how well said armour fits him, and how his crossed arms set off his chest nicely. The stern expression doesn’t quite suit his face, though – Tiria absently wonders what he might look like when he’s smiling.

  Lover’s tits, stop that, she scolds herself. She must have been away from the city for too long if muscles and a chiselled jaw are enough to distract her from the dire situation in which she’s landed herself.

  Because, sure, he might be part of the House but not the heir, but what would he gain from lying about something so easily disproven? All she’d have to do when she next returned to Zlona was to tell her grandmother about the encounter and the man would be in a great deal of trouble. Unless he’s planning on killing me, she forces herself to acknowledge. But he could have done that already, without going through this farce.

  No, it’s most likely that this man is telling the truth – which means Tiria is ploughed, to borrow a peasant’s crassness.

  “I apologise deeply, my lord,” she starts, bowing at the waist, even deeper than she’d normally bow to the heir of a Great House. She holds the pose for longer than usual too, before straightening to continue speaking. “I can only say that I did not know he was yours – or your own identity. I thought you were a common hunter in my family’s domain.” Though, if she’d spent the time considering his appearance rather than being more than half-distracted by trying to figure out how a beast could have a Class, she would have realised that couldn’t be possible.

  “Which doesn’t answer my question of why you attacked him,” Lord Markus responds, his tone dangerous. Tiria swallows, not sure if the frisson that goes down her spine is fear or attraction. She’s always been a sucker for Warrior-type brunettes.

  “I was trying to capture him,” Tiria admits honestly – lying might be an idea if she could think of a good one, but being caught in a lie would just make things worse. No, better to be honest for now. Anyway, it’s not as if her research here – and its lack of progress – is a secret or anything. As her grandmother likes to remind her every time she goes back to visit. And the Lady wonders why she rarely returns.

  Lord Markus’ eyebrows lower into a frown that suits him even more ill than the sternness.

  “Capture him? Why?”

  “I’m doing research on Classes,” Tiria explains, brightening up a little as the subject moves onto her passion. “Have you never wondered where they come from? Or how they work?” She notices a funny look pass across the Heir’s face and briefly wonders at it. Then shrugs to herself – he’s probably like most Classers, barely sparing a thought for what gives him his power, only that he has it. “Well, I’m convinced that if we find out more about them, a whole world will be opened to us. Maybe we’ll be able to break past the stat limit that separates the Class rarities. Or maybe we’ll figure out a way past the level ninety-nine barrier!”

  Unlike most people she’s spoken to about this – her grandmother aside, Lord Markus hasn’t yet scoffed or indicated that he thinks her research is a fool’s dream. Heartened, she continues. “I’ve been spending years trying to find out more about them, investigating differences between the stones, between the Classes within people, and…whether there is a way of a beast gaining one or a human Evolving as a beast does. Every record I have – and experiment I’ve done – has proven that beasts are unable to receive Classes. Usually it kills them. When it doesn’t, they wish that it had. You must see, I’m sure, why I would be so interested in finding out more about a beast who already has a Class.”

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  Her gaze wanders towards where she last saw the young dragon. Healer’s staff, I wish I were taller!

  “Is that what you were doing with the orb?” Lord Markus asks, his tone unreadable. “Capturing him for an experiment?”

  “Oh, more than one, I’m sure!” Tiria enthuses, then checks herself, remembering exactly who she’s speaking to. “That is, if it had been just some unattached young dragon. I promise I wouldn’t have attacked him if I thought he was yours.”

  “No,” the lord replies with a pointed tone. “You wouldn’t have tried to capture the Bonded of a Titanbend. But the Bonded of a common hunter, now? That seems to be a different matter. Or did I mishear it when you threatened me with the collar for defending my companion against you?”

  Tiria swallows and this time the frisson that goes down her spine is definitely fear.

  “I didn’t mean it,” she mutters, her eyes falling to the ground. “I was just angry. And that fire attack hurt.”

  The unconvinced hum that the lord gives isn’t reassuring. Tiria swallows again. Justice’s scales, how am I going to get out of this one? Titanbends were notorious for their ability to Bind humans as well as beasts – perhaps the four here were already tied to the heir. Tiria had no desire to feel that first hand and, while her status as a noble prevented the Heir from just Binding her immediately, if he took it to court, she reckoned it was better than even odds that he’d win.

  She had attacked his Bonded. And she had attacked him. That she didn’t know who he was wasn’t an acceptable excuse – this was still Azaarde, still his territory. More, even than Zlona’s since the major part of a city lady’s influence ended at the gates. Anyway, it’s not like Tiria is really a member of the ruling family – she knows she keeps her place only because of the power of her magic and the use her grandmother gets out of her from time to time.

  “Maybe…maybe I can do something for you to make up for this?” she offers. “Or…” she searches for something she has that he might be interested in. “I have results from experiments? Beasts that I’m no longer using? Class stones that I’ve gathered for experiments? Cores from beasts that died – mostly Tier two? Or…or…what would you…want?”

  She bites her lip, aware that her offer makes it clear that she would do almost anything. But if she doesn’t appease him and he takes it to court, she might be Bound to do literally anything – for as long as he keeps her. And that’s worse. Isn’t it?

  By Diplomacy, I should have paid more attention to my negotiation tutor rather than sneaking off half the time to study magic.

  Interest has kindled in Lord Markus’ face and Tiria braces for whatever he intends to ask of her. She might think he’s rather attractive, but that doesn’t mean she likes the prospect of having to work off her transgressions on her back.

  “You say you have Class stones? What types? And how many?”

  Tiria blinks. Of everything she said, that is what he is most interested in? She almost feels insulted. Don’t be stupid, stupid, she scolds herself again.

  “Nothing above Rare,” she admits, “and only two of those. But Common and Uncommon? Quite a few. And all different types – combat, non-combat, a few mage, lots of crafter ones, and lots of Warrior and Warrior sub-types. ”

  Lord Markus nods slowly.

  “Then I’ll take thirty Common stones, fifteen Uncommon, and one of the Rares.”

  Ooh, that last was a hit to the gut – she’d had to work hard for grandmother to be given those stones out of the family treasury. But he could have asked for both, she reminds herself. And sure, that takes most of my stock but…it could be worse. She can’t help drooping a little as she mournfully calculates how few of her precious Class stones she’ll have remaining – and it’s unlikely grandmother will help fund new ones, so she’ll have to sell some of her Cores to raise money for replacements. It could be worse, she repeats to herself.

  “And this will…wipe the slate clean for us, my lord?” she asks tentatively. There’s probably a better way of asking that but, again, younger-Tiria – blast her – much preferred studying magic over her etiquette lessons.

  The pause before Lord Markus answers has her heart beginning to race. Is he going to ask for something more?

  “Yes, it will wipe the slate clean,” the lord agrees and Tiria can barely prevent a gusty sigh from exploding out of her.

  “Thank you, my lord, for your mercy,” she murmurs. That, at least, she can remember from her lessons – she’s had to repeat something similar enough times. “The stones are in my tower not that far from here. I can be there and back in a few flames.”

  “No,” the lord denies. “Stay here. I have something I need to do, and then we can follow. Actually,” he cuts himself off almost mid-thought. “We’re looking for a rift that’s causing problems for Zlona. You indicated you live nearby. Do you have any idea where the rift might be?”

  “A rift? Problems for Zlona?” Tiria repeats, alarm going through her. The lord frowns again.

  “Yes. They've been suffering an increasingly powerful beast wave for the last couple of tendays. Didn’t you know?”

  “No,” Tiria replied, feeling more than a little faint. A beast wave. Hitting Zlona. Surely grandmother would have called for her.

  And then horror goes through her as she realised something that had slipped her mind. A bad error of judgement.

  Grandmother is going to kill me!

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