A Shade of Dragon 2 Page 8

  “I don’t care about Theon. I’m just saying that he picked her for some reason. He thought she was good enough for his throne. And you—you’ve never even met her, Father! What if I told you…” Lethe hesitated.

  Michelle tried to squeeze next to me at the keyhole, but I kept my shoulder firm and blocked her.

  “What if I told you that I might love her?”

  In the corridor, the candles in the sconces streamed and flared with white-hot flames. It was the natural response of fire in the presence of a fire dragon with dangerously elevated blood pressure.

  Beside me, Michelle whacked my shoulder, but had the intelligence to not make a sound.

  The roaring of blood in my ears quieted, and the blackness tingling at the perimeters of my vision faded away to reveal Vulott Eraeus laughing.

  “You love her?” He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. I felt the draft from beneath the doorway intensify. “Oh, Lethe… so inexperienced. You poor bastard. We should have let you dally more than we did! Ice dragons cannot love, Lethe. We cannot. It is a capability we simply lack, as the fire dragons lack resistance to the cold.”

  At this, Lethe turned his head, and I was able to see his profile, white on white against the master bedroom window. “That’s not true,” he said. His voice was heavy with sorrow, and blades of frost fanned from his feet as he turned.

  “Oh, Lethe, my boy.” Although Vulott’s voice sounded like consolation, the expression on his face remained one of mirth. “You will have a queen. You will need a queen. But the queen to steer this wondrous island onward to greater and greater heights cannot sully the throne with soft-heartedness and gentleness. We demand a warrior queen for our warrior people. And humans? Humans are soft. You must look elsewhere than our own dungeons for your queen, son.”

  The dungeons.

  Yes. That was all I needed to know.

  Standing, propelled by a silent and smoldering rage, I gripped Michelle’s shoulder and, with the slightest yelp from her, pulled her to her feet and down the corridor, back toward the stairwell, down, down, down into the dungeons. Behind us, the candles in the sconces continued to burst with flame like a welder’s torches.

  Nell

  It was daybreak when I was finally relieved of my chains. My wrists had turned red and raw from the abrasion of the metal. But, as I limped in my now soiled and singed petticoats, I was still grateful that Lethe had honored his promise to provide me with a cell—even if I would have been even more grateful if he had allowed me to return home.

  At least the masked guard who came to collect me brought a fresh change of clothes.

  “The prince sends his apologies for your circumstances,” the guard told me. He all but added, Human trash. “He wishes you to know that it was by Emperor Vulott’s command, and not his own, that you have been relegated to the dungeons. Although there are no single cells available, he has also demanded that the cells be made tighter, so that one may be afforded for you alone.”

  “Oh… I don’t need that.” I didn’t want to force other prisoners to stand, or suffocate. “I’ll be fine in a cell with others.”

  “I’m afraid the prince insisted,” the guard said. His stink-eye game was strong as he led me past row after row of jammed cells, until we reached the cell closest to another stairwell, a stairwell I hadn’t seen until now. “These will be your quarters until he is able to secure you a ‘proper’ room.”

  I would have addressed the unnecessary tone, but “respectful communication” didn’t even clear the list of my concerns anymore. Rather, I let him lead me into the cell, and when we were inside, he thrust a set of pure white, linen fabric into my arms. It all matched, so it was difficult to tell what was petticoat and what was shawl, but I could see that it was intended to be some multi-layered, otherwise light gown.

  The guard forced me to change in front of him, because he was “required” to return my garments to the royal family. Feeling wholly embarrassed, I stripped down and handed him my blue velvet gown, which I had peed in during the night.

  I wanted to ask the guard for more information—when I would see Lethe again, if he would come back and give me food, if he would bring me another change of clothes tomorrow—but I could tell by the disgust in his eyes that this guard only spoke to me because he had been ordered by a member of the royal family to do so. The ice people, it was clear, maintained deep and abiding prejudices toward all non-ice people.

  I let him leave, and I wandered to the high window at the very top of my cell. The dungeon was much larger than I had thought, but I saw no other cells with windows save this one. Even this single window was so lonely. It was small, and it was barred, and it looked out onto a low and milky sky.

  I wound my arms tightly around myself, realizing that this gown was much thinner than the other gown had been, and that meant I would get much colder.

  I wished Theon was here.

  Hours passed; I was too tired to remain awake, waiting for someone to come with more news, trying to find a way out by my hopeless self. I slipped off to sleep, my head resting on a clot of straw in one corner, the rest of my body shuddering and shivering on icy stone.

  My dreams were chaotic and garbled. Theon came to rescue me, but then, as we embraced, he transformed into Lethe. The flames became icicles dancing over our bodies. Michelle danced into my cell and tore him away from me. She laughed, and blue scales coursed over her face and entire body. She ballooned out, as I had seen Theon do, and became a dragon. An ice dragon? But then the ice melted, and the water boiled, and Theon returned to me. He swept me up into his arms and I moaned his name in gratitude. My heart leapt in a burst of joy; had it only been days since I had last seen him? It felt like years. His warm amber eyes gleamed down at me, his complexion aglow with gold and rose. I threaded my fingers through his hair—which I remembered as being thicker, wavier, and shorter—and drew him close, both of our mouths opening eagerly for a kiss of greeting. But as his tongue filled my mouth, a blade of horror plunged into my breast.

  His tongue was cold.

  As cold as ice.

  My eyes bulged open.

  The ice prince’s frigid hands slid around me, pulling me upright. I continued to kiss him because I had to; what would he have done to me if I had reared away from him and displayed all the disappointment I had felt in that moment? Would I have not been shackled to the wall again? Would I have not been forced to urinate on myself while waiting for a guard?

  But on the inside, my heart tore into a deep schism.

  Our lips separated, and I was glad. I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. Lethe wasn’t a bad guy, really… he was just a little mad, but who wouldn’t be, given his life story? That didn’t mean I had to love him, though. It was even possible that I couldn’t love him. Who knew why we loved the people we did? And yet it was abundantly clear that he loved me. Why? We’d only just met, and yet he had attached himself to me with the readiness and trust of an abandoned child.

  “Penelope,” Lethe said. He did have gorgeous eyes. Unlike Theon’s, which were always so steady, Lethe’s seemed to swirl like the interior of a snow globe. “You don’t deserve this.”

  My throat clutched around my esophagus. Was he going to set me free after all? Return me to Beggar’s Hole, Maine? And, ultimately, Theon?

  “Just look at yourself. You have hay in your hair. Your feet are so, so dirty. And your wrists…” His fingers traveled to my red wrists, and the chill of his lips was a relief when they kissed across that raw flesh. “My love, nobility such as yours demands a room in a palace. Not a cell in a dungeon.” Wrapping his frigid palms around my wrists, he pulled me to my feet. I shuddered with gratitude for the numbness that his touch provided. “Did the guard give you my messages?”

  I nodded, relieved to be removed from the dungeon, and disappointed to be remaining in the castle. “He told me that it was your father’s order, not yours, that I be removed to the dungeon,” I said, even though Lethe had certainly seeme
d at the time as if the idea had been his own. “And he told me that you had been the one to demand that I have a cell by myself.” Lethe seemed to be demanding more of me, so I went on, “Thank you,” however uncomfortable. It was hard to be thankful for much surrounded by so many in need, including myself.

  “That wasn’t the only thing I wished for him to tell you.” Lethe led me through the cell, opening the door and closing it behind himself, then pulling me toward the second stairwell. The dungeon was so large, I could not even see the first stairwell. I could only gaze into the distance, a row of cells and manacles tapering off into shadow.

  Lethe turned, sliding one hand away from my arm and into my hair. His emotions must have been intense, for his breath came at me in little clouds of frost.

  “I’m in love with you, Penelope. And you will be my queen.”

  Theon

  As Michelle and I descended into the bowels of the dungeon, my nostrils flinched at the odors which rose to greet us. Waste. Decay. And mingled amongst these came moans and howls of hunger, of pain, of pleading. “Jesus,” Michelle muttered. Even in her peasant ensemble, she looked too regal to be surrounded by such mess. “Remind me again why Nell is worth all this effort?”

  I paused only long enough to glare over my shoulder, and then we continued along the path.

  The winding stone stairwell dumped us out into the greater dungeon area, filled with cells which I had seldom seen used in my time at the castle. Now they were brimming with prisoners. There were so many prisoners in our dungeon now that I could not see every face, for the crowd teemed with faces, and so many were dirty and beleaguered… Even if you had known someone once, would they look the same now?

  As we stepped onto the ground floor, a great cry rose up from the barred rooms. It was the prisoners. The fire dragon prisoners.

  They recognized me, even in the peasant’s garb, and they called out for help. Cruddy hands stretched through the bars, and my heart ached, knowing it would be impossible to save more than one or two. In fact, my own escape was questionable. Most if not all of these people would need to be left behind for the sake of the mission.

  I hardened my heart to their pleas…

  “Prince Theon! Oh, Prince Theon, you’ve come to save us!”

  … and I scanned solely for the faces of family, or Penelope, to extract from this pit.

  My jaw clenched at the thought of the skeleton key refusing to work even here, in a dungeon full of innocent people. Surely—surely Pythia was not so biased toward the ice dragons.

  “Son,” a voice called. It came not from the cells… but from the wall of manacles on my left. And I would know that voice anywhere.

  It was the voice of my father. The rightful king of The Hearthlands. Erisard.

  He was bound to the stone wall, but his legs had given out on him, and it appeared that his shoulders had both dislocated from the strain of his weight. He’d wasted away in his time here—three weeks, dear gods—and his body was papered in cuts and bruises, welts in various stages of healing. Some were vivid red from fresh marks.

  “Father.” I touched his face and brought it up to the light. His eyes could barely open. He would be dead soon if I did not take him to the shelter now. He must have lost twenty pounds in his time here. “Don’t worry… don’t worry.” For the first time since she’d been snatched away by Lethe, Nell actually faded from my mind. “We’re going to get you out of here. I have”—I dug in my satchel for the key and extracted it in a near fever—“a key.”

  As I inserted and turned the key, Father sought my eyes. “You must go. They’ll kill you, Theon.”

  The damn tumblers would not fall! Pythia had been a complete fraud! This key—what had it ever unlocked? Nothing!

  Around us, the torches blazed.

  “Let me go,” Father pleaded.

  I didn’t even hesitate. I couldn’t look at him. His words were ridiculous. They weren’t even worthy of consideration. He was mad with hunger, and thirst, and sleep deprivation and pain. I would die before I left this place without him.

  “I’m no threat to them, Theon,” he told me. “I’m old… They just use me… for a laugh.” The fire in my body had reached a peak I could no longer mediate. “But you, you’re young—strong—you’re too real a threat—”

  With a roar of frustration, I gripped the chains which held him and discharged a stream of orange fire, as thick as magma, onto them. They turned orange to match the flame and then melted away, over my hands and onto the floor. I stepped back and stared, dazed, at what I had done. I had never before, not in human form, caused such damage with my fire. I had never melted metal until it flowed like water. And my hands…

  I held my hands to my face, checking the palms and the backs. They were unscarred. They had withstood what should have burned even a fire dragon.

  My father slumped to the ground, both arms hanging at odd angles. He would have cried out in pain, I was sure, if pain really existed for him anymore. I feared he had entered the state of numbness shortly before death.

  Tender but resolute, I scooped him into my arms and stood.

  “Well, crap,” Michelle commented. “I guess we don’t have any more space on this one-man rescue wagon for Nell, do we?”

  A retort surged in my throat—if Nell cannot walk, you shall carry her—but the clamor of bells roused us from the would-be tiff.

  “What is that?” Michelle cried, her hands clapped over her ears.

  “Someone sounded the alarm,” I called back, already turning toward the stairwell. “They know there are intruders in the castle!”

  Theon

  As we ran through the dungeon, I recognized one face standing out from the blur, perhaps because it was so vividly cemented in my memory from when he’d been carried off into the sky by an ice dragon. Einhen.

  “Theon!” he called, waving his one good arm through the bars. “Theon! Prince! Friend!”

  And even knowing what a liability it would be, I hesitated. It was because of me that he was here. Maybe Michelle had insisted on Khem, but I had been the one to invite Einhen to what could very well be his death.

  Dammit.

  Wincing to myself, I shoved the skeleton key into Michelle’s hands. We didn’t have much time, but they all deserved to be free, didn’t they? “Unlock the cells!”

  “Come on.” Michelle pouted, clearly dismayed.

  “I said unlock the cells!” I snapped.

  This time, Michelle fell back a step, although the smug glare never quite left her eyes. She turned to the lock on Einhen’s cell and jammed the thoughtful key into it. My secret logic was that perhaps she would fare better than me. Amazingly, the key spun and the door popped open. Michelle extracted the key again and ran to me.

  “All right. Let’s go!”

  So her sense of invincibility did, in fact, know bounds.

  Einhen joined us, and with him came a rush of desperate prisoners, more than twenty and as many as thirty; at each cell we passed, I forced Michelle to go and turn the key again. Each time, the damn thing worked and another thirty prisoners came rioting forth. In a throng, they spilled toward the stairs, and with them, Michelle, Einhen, Father and I traveled.

  In a sick way, the escaped prisoners from these cells provided us with the perfect cover. Disguised in the rags of the working class, we blended into this throng of malnourished, bedraggled prisoners of war.

  I retrieved the key from Michelle and we moved together up the narrow, winding flight of stairs. Although the guards had been alerted that there were intruders, they would not be anticipating a large-scale breakout from the dungeon. I almost lost track even of Michelle several times, and of us all, it was she who typically stood out in any crowd.

  The stream of escapees burst from the dungeon door, and already, over the swell of clanging alarms, I could hear the hollers of guards. Their wintry arrows parted the air, and a man disappeared in front of me, trampled by the crowd. I clutched Father to my chest, careful of his arms.
Even in all this uproar, he was barely conscious. I could only pray as we milled through the streets and out of the city, that he would survive even the trek to the shelter. If I moved quickly…

  If I transformed…

  Would I be able to fly? Or would my wings stiffen and cause me to—

  My eyes fell on Penelope, and for a horrible moment, surrounded by the madding crowd, the moans of pain and barks of the masked guards, the damnable alarm system which dampened all other sounds, I froze. An onlooker would have assumed that an icy arrow had plunged directly into my chest, and in a way, one had.

  She stood at the balcony of the third floor… and she was so very small, looking down on me from up there. She was dressed entirely in white. In fact, if I squinted, it would appear that she was wearing the vestments of purity assigned to brides in the days before their wedding. It had been years ago that I had witnessed a dragon wedding. I remembered the gown she had been commanded to wear prior to the ceremony. It was light, and simple, and pure white.

  As was Nell’s.

  Was it only my imagination that she saw me too?

  Lethe was with her. In fact, as they stood together, his arm wove around her shoulders. He didn’t see me. He didn’t recognize me in these garments. It was only Penelope who would recognize me, because she knew the soul inside my eyes before she knew the style of my dress. It was only Penelope who would recognize me, because we were linked together by something stronger than circumstance and coincidence, fates be damned—

  “Theon!” Michelle yodeled ahead of me. She had reached the front gate of the palace, and was glaring at me. “Jesus Christ, Theon. Let’s go!”

  Released from my moment of shock, I was propelled forward with the crowd, and we spilled together onto the front steps into the bitter daylight cold of The Hearthlands. Behind us, the bodies of fellow fire dragons lay crushed, bloodied, and frozen. But all around us and ahead of us, even more of them charged into the streets, seeking either shelter or escape.