The Color of Dragons

by R. A. Salvatore

  He exited in the Great Hall, which sat dark for the first time since he’d moved into the castle. He snuck past several guards, tiptoed up the stairs, finding Maggie’s hallway empty. Not a single guard was posted at her door. Which meant she wasn’t there.

  Next stop was the kitchens, where he hoped to find Bradyn, but he wasn’t there either. Apparently, he’d been missing since lunch. His mother, Molly, was escorted out of the castle. Her husband declared a traitor. The baker, a skeletal old man with spindly fingers called Osperth, told him everyone assumed Bradyn was with Molly.

  “Is that tray ready?” Raleigh called from the kitchen galley.

  Griffin lifted a finger and dove into the pantry.

  Osperth waited until Griffin was out of sight to answer him. “Yes, sir. A basket of bread and water only, as you requested. Who should it be delivered to?” Griffin heard him say.

  “I’ll take it.”

  Griffin heard Raleigh’s footsteps clack on the tile floors, moving away from him. He followed him. It wasn’t easy. Raleigh stopped every few feet, checking behind him. When his old mentor started down a particular set of stairs, Griffin knew he was heading for the dungeons. Maggie hadn’t consented to anything, so the prince had locked her up in the one place the moon couldn’t reach her.

  Seven flights down. Three long tunnels. Only the light from torches led the way. Griffin gave Raleigh plenty of space. He glanced into the cells that were full of sleeping servants, those who worked in the castle.

  Griffin heard a latch clank, and knew Raleigh was at Maggie’s cell. His heart pounding, Griffin needed to act fast. He lifted the dagger Esmera gave him out.

  “Griffin, you cannot think to sneak up on the man who taught you to fight,” Raleigh called.

  Griffin cursed. He hid the knife and turned the corner, padding down a ramp, descending into the deepest part of the dungeon. The walls felt like they were closing in. He walked with purpose. In the glow of the torchlight, he could see Raleigh and two other guards near the last two cells before the tunnel ended.

  As he got closer, he saw both cells were occupied. On his right, Maggie was barely visible, curled up in a ball against the back wall. On his left, Bradyn. Both looked like they were breathing, but it was difficult to tell. His mind raced. Did Jori mean to do away with them too? “What the hell is going on here?” he yelled at Raleigh.

  Bradyn crawled to the bars. “He killed my father, Griffin. He threw him down the hole after the king.”

  “How’d he get that gag off?” one of the guards asked. He moved to open the cell door, but Griffin kept him from getting to it.

  “The prince wanted Maggie to kill the king and when she wouldn’t, he said he would kill me. He was going to drop me.” Bradyn’s voice cracked. He started crying. “My father did it for me. He . . . he did it for me. And then . . . and then . . . Raleigh killed him.”

  Griffin shoved one guard into the other, then punched Raleigh as hard as he could. His mentor stumbled into the two guards.

  “Let them out!” Griffin demanded.

  Raleigh rubbed his swelling jaw. He pulled his sword. “You have a match tomorrow. You really want to do this?” He lunged.

  Griffin spun out, bouncing off the wall, reaching for his knife, but Raleigh shouldered him, throwing him up against the bars of Bradyn’s cell. Griffin felt the knife lift from the back of his trousers. Griffin ducked Raleigh’s strike, shoving him into the bars, and Bradyn’s outstretched hand. The knife punctured Raleigh’s side, a fatal blow to the kidney.

  Raleigh dropped to his knees, using the bar for support. Bradyn ripped the dagger out. The knife struck Raleigh’s throat next.

  It was over.

  Bradyn’s hands trembled. “He killed my father. He killed my father.” He repeated that over and over again.

  The guards looked back, hesitating at first. Griffin seized one in a headlock at the same time he found the guard’s knife in his belt, getting it against his chest. That guard dropped his sword. The other wasn’t as bright.

  He thrust.

  Griffin used the guard in his arms as a shield. The blade cut into the man’s chest. Griffin threw the dying guard at his killer, then made use of the knife. His throw never wavered, striking the guard between the eyes.

  It was over in less than a minute.

  Raleigh’s empty gaze was upturned, staring at the ceiling. Griffin’s boots waded through blood from the dead guards. Like Bradyn’s, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He had killed many draignochs, but not people. Not ones who had once cared for him. Not like this.

  “Sir Griffin?” Bradyn whined, breaking Griffin out of his trance.

  Griffin searched Raleigh, finding the keys, opening Bradyn’s cell first.

  “Bradyn, you need to get out of the castle, and to your mother. Use the passageways but move slowly. Jori knows we’ve been using them.”

  Griffin handed the knife to Bradyn.

  “What about you and Maggie?” he asked.

  “Go . . . ,” Maggie uttered.

  Griffin pushed him. “I’ve got her.”

  Griffin didn’t watch him leave. He pulled the guards’ and Raleigh’s lifeless bodies into the far corner of the empty cell, and locked it. Then he opened Maggie’s cell. He padded over to her slowly, kneeling beside her.

  “Maggie?”

  She rolled over. He started at the gaunt look in her eyes. The blue in her irises faded to near white. Her skin graying, her mouth cracked and dry.

  She tried to speak, but when she couldn’t, she put that strength into her arm. Griffin caught her wrist before the rock in her hand hit him in the head.

  He could tell the lies Jori told her racked her with anger, but he didn’t care. He was so happy to see her. He kissed her forehead. Then her eyes. Her cheeks. He lifted her up, cradling her in his arms. “You’ll have a much better chance of pummeling me after you see your moon.”

  Maggie stirred as soon as they reached the top of the spiral staircase. He set her down beneath the first window he came to, pushing it open. The moon didn’t hesitate. Strands of finely spun silk shot down. Her eyes flew open. Blistering cold, his outstretched arms numbing, Griffin stumbled away from her. Her normally blue eyes gone. They were solidly white, and glowing. She gasped, her mouth falling open. With every inhale, the light faded, but Griffin never saw it leave her.

  She stirred, trying to stand. He tentatively touched her. Her skin cool, but much more temperate, he settled an arm around her back, holding her up. “Can you walk?”

  She tested her legs. “I think so.” Then she started to walk away.

  Griffin pulled her back. “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you! Before I kill you where you stand.”

  She turned to leave but he grabbed her hand. “Maggie, let me explain.”

  “Explain how you tricked me! Training me to become some kind of weapon for the prince? Or should I say wife!” She drew a glistening beam of light as long as a sword, dropping it until it was only an inch from his neck.

  “I did none of those things.” Griffin let her go and raised his hands. The light so bright, his vision spotted.

  “How am I supposed to believe you, Griffin? You take me to see Rendicryss. You help me grow my powers. You give me everything I ask for, except my freedom.”

  “Because the only one who can give you freedom is you.” He paused, letting that sink in. “We’re all trapped. Rendicryss is your only hope. She will have to fly you out of the city. You will have to free her in the arena as we planned. It is the only way. It has always been the only way.”

  She stared at Griffin, incredulous. The internal argument played out in sneers, head shakes, and grimaces.

  “I love you, Maggie. Jori knows that. It made it easy for him. I was too busy paying attention to you to notice that he betrayed me too.”

  The light faded. Darkness fell. “He wants you by his side, Griffin. You’re not tempted?”

  Griffin stared at the blood on his hands.
“No . . .” For the first time since his parents had died, he wanted to cry. “I never thought he was capable of this. I’m not sure I really know who he is, or who his father was. I only saw the prize. Being prized. But I don’t want it anymore.”

  Maggie threaded her fingers through his. “What do we do now?”

  Nineteen

  Maggie

  My sleep was restless, filled with nightmares. In one I remembered well, Rendicryss couldn’t fly. Her wings broken, hanging at odd angles, she ran around the ring, moving slower than a turtle. Jori took great pleasure ordering Griffin to cut them off. The sun burst through the windows in the queen’s quarters, waking me before I heard Griffin’s answer. I wanted to trust him, but some part of me still doubted his allegiance.

  I was surprised yet relieved to see Petal come into the room. She had a fresh smock and a scarf around her neck. From the strong musky perfume, I could tell it was a gift from Esmera. From her gesturing, I gathered that she’d snuck back into the castle. I tried to make her leave but it did no good. A finger pointed at her heart, then dragged across her neck, and then aimed at me.

  “I don’t want anyone to die for me, Petal.”

  She had brought Esmera’s lavender dress with her, new boots, and a knife, all a part of Griffin’s plan. He should be at Jori’s door, telling him that Raleigh arranged for him to speak to me, and that he convinced me to have a change of heart. That I was moved to his mother’s quarters to sleep in, heavily guarded of course, and that at this moment I was being washed and clothed to look perfect for my wedding, which was to take place after the final match.

  And that Griffin’s wedding to Esmera would happen directly after. Neither nuptials would take place so long as I could break the chains binding Rendicryss.

  I wished to hear her all night, but she was quiet. Not even a whimper carried on the wind.

  The queen’s rooms in the tower were dusty, the last of Umbert’s wives having died years ago. I didn’t light a fire. It would’ve drawn too much attention. I slept curled up in a ball between the bed and the wall, wrapped in musty blankets. When morning broke, I saw the room was draped in red. From the curtains to the linens, the rugs and tapestries, all embroidered with creeping roses. It felt empty, void of not only life but memories. There was nothing, not even a dress in the wardrobe to say that someone once lived here.

  Thirty minutes later, Petal was weaving small purple flowers into the curls in my hair when his stern knock was heard, and he walked in uninvited. Five guards were with him.

  I shoved Petal behind the screen and stood to greet him, smoothing down the lavender pleats.

  “Maggie.” Jori said my name as if it were an order. His fair hair was slicked back. His normally soft brown eyes were harder, taking prominence on his face, making him look like an angry owl. He wore all leather, with swords crossed on his back. He looked like a warrior. A calculated move so that he appeared strong enough to lead when he revealed to the people later today that their king was dead.

  I approached him with caution, the snake in the grass Xavier accused me of being. “Sire.” I curtsied.

  Jori nodded. Guards rushed me, throwing me down, binding my hands behind my back at elbow and wrist, as Moldark had done yesterday. When they were finished, they left me on my knees.

  The guard handed him the key to my cuffs.

  “I don’t understand. I thought—”

  Jori laughed at me. “Suddenly you’re ready to take on your destiny? Do I look like a fool? Griffin may be so bewitched by you that he believes every word you say, but I am not. You can be a slave to me as easily as a wife.” He bent over, dangling the key in front of my face, then put it in the pocket of his tunic. He nodded again, and I was hoisted to my feet.

  “Today, you will make sure your dragon kills Malcolm,” he continued.

  “How can I do that with my hands tied behind my back?”

  “You don’t require your hands to speak to her. Armel told me.”

  “Armel was wrong.” My heart pounded so hard I worried he would hear. Our plan would never work if my hands were bound this way.

  He stared at me longer than necessary, then waved his hand. A guard brought him a long black cloak. He wrapped it around my shoulders, clasping it at my neckline, letting his fingers linger. He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  “This will hide your chains. We will ride now to the arena in a carriage, for our safety, of course. On the balcony, I will announce my father’s death. The last match will go on, during which Malcolm will die. Afterward, Maggie of Nowhere, you will swear your loyalty to me, and then we shall be wed for all to see. Am I clear?”

  “Yes.”

  He patted my cheek harder than necessary. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  Esmera and Sybil were in the carriage when the guards carried me in. Both draped in black as well, they looked like they’d slept better than I had. Beneath they wore simple yellow frocks. Esmera’s blonde locks were woven into tight braids, pulling the hair off her face. Sybil’s red mane was tied in a ponytail at the base of her neck. Retrained hair, loose-fitting clothes—they were armed and, by the looks of it, prepared to fight.

  “Why are you hunched over like that?” Sybil asked me.

  She lifted my cloak and saw my hands were bound behind my back. She paled with worry, letting go of the wool as Jori climbed in beside me.

  Esmera and Sybil exchanged nervous glances with each other, and then with me. The plan was for me to cut Rendicryss’s chains by wielding moonlight, which I couldn’t do with my hands cuffed behind my back.

  We would have to find another way to set her free. My only hope was that we would see Griffin in the tunnel before the match. If I couldn’t get word to him, then hopefully Esmera or Sybil could.

  Jori set a hand on my knee. “Is there something wrong, Maggie? Why do you stare at Sybil and Esmera so?”

  “I thought we’d be riding alone.” My glare shifted from Esmera to Sybil. “I do not wish to look at her, not on my wedding day.”

  I tried to shift away from Jori, force his hand to fall off my knee, but his fingers tightened.

  Esmera glowered. “The ride will be over soon enough, and then I will have your champion to myself.”

  “And I your prince.”

  Sybil cleared her throat, her stare flipping between us as if we had lost our minds.

  Jori ignored us, his mind and his attentions straight ahead, on the arena.

  The carriage stopped and the door opened. I started to climb down but Jori pushed me aside to go first. Then he shut the door.

  I leaned forward to whisper in Sybil’s ear. “Griffin and Malcolm need to find another way to set Rendicryss free. Can you get word?”

  “And how exactly will I be able to do that?” Sybil asked.

  Sunshine broke through the clouds as the door cracked again.

  “Let’s go.” Jori grabbed the fabric of the cloak at my shoulder, yanking me out. The bridge at the Top was empty. With the volume of noise coming out of the arena, it sounded like the people were already seated, and had been for some time.

  Esmera and Sybil flanked me as we padded across. Jori walked ahead with several guards. In the tunnel, Griffin and Malcolm waited to enter the ring. Neither wore much armor, and neither was armed. I kept my eyes trained on Jori, too afraid to even glance at Griffin, for fear I might crack. How were we in this place—two nobodies from nowhere, both under the thumb of the power-hungry prince—both of our lives hanging in the balance?

  The guards ushered me into the stairwell before the others. I heard Esmera and Sybil ask to speak with their brother, wishing him luck. Jori spoke to Griffin, but I couldn’t hear what he said. The guards prodded me to start climbing. I tried to catch Griffin’s glance, but he never looked up before the door to the stairwell shut.

  At the top of the stairs, I was told to wait for Jori. I stopped and closed my eyes, praying to the moon that my dragon would be freed and we would live to se
e nightfall, and her in all her glory. I never believed in prayer, but with all else stripped away, it was all that was left. That, and a present Petal had left in my boot.

  Twenty

  Griffin

  Last night, Griffin had returned to the dungeons and moved Raleigh’s and the guards’ bodies to a cold storage room, hiding them behind enormous ale barrels. The cold would hide the smell long enough, he hoped.

  He went back to the old queen’s room, where he put Maggie, finding her on the floor, tucked behind the bed, in the throes of a nightmare. He stayed with her, holding her, worried it would be the last time he would ever get to touch her. His plan was reckless. Outlandish. Impossible—but it was all he could think of.

  Griffin went to Jori before dawn, telling him that Raleigh was in the Middle, dealing with unrest at the marketplace, but that Maggie was well guarded in the queen’s rooms. Jori seemed to believe in Griffin’s fealty, yet went to see her with his own eyes. “Just to be sure.”

  Jori had the guards remove Esmera and Sybil from the tunnel before speaking to him. He waved at a soldier who brought Griffin’s and Malcolm’s swords. The soldier passed Malcolm his weapon, then, at the prince’s request, gave Griffin’s to Jori. He held it up, checking the sharpness and balance as if he was about to enter the arena. “Maggie was where you said she would be.” Jori winced a smile, handing the weapon to him. “I hope you take no offense at my . . . confirmation.”

  Griffin did his own testing of the blade, hoping Jori would leave, but he didn’t. He stretched an arm, leaning on the wall. “Griffin, where did you sleep last night?”

  “What? What are you accusing me of?”

  Jori walked around him. “I was told you left the queen’s room before dawn this morning.”

  “You were told wrong.” Griffin chuckled. “You’re growing as paranoid as your father, Jori. You have the throne. You have Maggie.”