Finally, she was yanked to a halt. They were in front of a door, which one of the guards leaned past her to shove open. Beyond was a cell with no windows. A metal framed cot and a bucket in the corner were the only furnishings.
“Get in there,” the other guard growled, giving her a shove from behind.
Dela flew forward, her worst fear springing to mind as she imaged herself falling and crushing the dragon egg beneath her body. But somehow she managed to keep her balance and twisted her body so only the backs of her legs hit the cot on the other side of the small space.
“Welcome to your new home,” the guard sneered. “Not that you’ll live long enough to appreciate it.”
The door slammed shut, encasing her in darkness. A loud crack sounded as a bolt was jammed into place. The only light came from the small gap beneath the door, and the place stank of stale urine. Dela pressed her lips together, holding back a sob. Was this futile? How was she supposed to escape from here?
She lowered herself to sit on the edge of the cot and held the dragon egg close. Its warmth penetrated through her clothes, at least giving her some comfort in the cold, dark place.
Her thoughts turned to the others. Where were they being held? Had they been taken back to the dungeon? Or did the king think they wouldn’t be contained there, and so instructed them to be taken to rooms similar to the one she was in now? She hadn’t heard any signs of them when the guards had been dragging her here, so they might be on the other side of the castle, for all she knew. This place was huge, with hundreds of rooms and different passageways. They could be anywhere. Not that her knowing where they were would make any difference. It wasn’t as though she’d be breaking free and rescuing them any time soon.
It was impossible to track how much time had passed—maybe an hour, maybe less—but eventually movement came at the door. The lock cracked back, and Dela jumped to her feet, her pulse racing in anticipation.
The door opened to reveal two more guards, but a far larger figure stood behind them. With his broad shoulders and thick beard of golden brown, King Roland Crowmere made a striking figure. She guessed him to be in his early forties, with the queen in her late thirties, but, despite their ages, they had not produced an heir to the throne. It was something people never mentioned in public, but often gossiped about behind closed doors. After all, how would a kingdom continue without an heir? That wasn’t Dela’s concern right now. If she had her way, neither of them would be on the throne.
The guards parted, allowing the king through.
He regarded her with disgust. “Well, here she is. The young woman who has somehow got herself caught up with usurpers from the other races, and saw fit to return here to steal from me.”
Dela held the egg tighter. “This doesn’t belong to you.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “It doesn’t belong to you either.”
“I know that. I’m returning it.”
The king gave a deep laugh. “And who, may I ask, are you returning it to?”
“To the dragon it belongs to,” she said, stubbornly, refusing to allow herself to be intimidated by this man. Somehow he seemed to take up more space than a regular person, as though he exuded an aura that made him larger than he actually was.
King Roland Crowmere pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring as he stared at her, and then burst into laughter. Behind him, the two guards joined in with the peals.
He managed to get hold of himself, his cheeks flushed. He touched his fingers to his lips as though trying to contain his mirth. “You do know that dragons no longer exist.”
She held his gaze, her jaw rigid. “You believe whatever you want to believe.”
“And even if they did still exist, you’re not getting out of Castle Tearos with that egg.”
“We’ll see about that.” They were empty threats. She had no plan, no way of getting out of here. What he was saying was most likely the truth, but she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing her broken.
The king turned to the guards. “Take the egg.”
The guards hesitated. “Umm, we’ve already tried. It’s as though it’s been glued to her hand somehow.”
“That damned Elvish creature.”
“He’s not a creature!” she blurted. “He’s a prince.”
The king shook his head. “I don’t recognize his kingdom. If it were up to me, they wouldn’t even be allowed to call each other kings and princes. I’m the only king in Xantearos. My forefathers allowed the Elvish to keep their kingdom, but it doesn’t mean I have to respect it. Not that it matters now, anyway. With the Treaty broken, we can do whatever we want.”
She stared at him in fury. “You’re happy this happened, aren’t you? You want there to be a war.”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure why I should care, but tell me why you’re so against there being one.”
“Because it’s unnecessary,” she snapped. “The Elvish don’t mean us any harm. Neither do any of the other races. They should be allowed to practice magic if it’s a part of who they are, and the other races should be allowed to live wherever they choose.”
“What would we gain from that?”
“We wouldn’t lose people to the Choosing every six months, for one. We wouldn’t have to give up our food so you can fill your vault with yet more gold and jewels. What are you planning on doing with it all, anyway? There’s only so much you can wear.”
“Wealth is power. Maybe if you were a little older and more well versed in the ways of the world, you’d understand that.”
Dela shook her head, curling her lip in disgust. “I’ve seen more of this world than you ever will. You call yourself a king, but you’ve sent all those men out to fight for you, while you’re hiding here, in your castle.”
He took two steps to bring himself into her personal space. His movement was so fast, she didn’t even see it coming. His palm made contact with her cheek, sending her head rocking, and pain exploded through her cheek and ear. “You don’t speak to your king in such a way.”
She lifted her eyes to his, hating how they watered with the pain, but blinking the tears away in the hope he didn’t see them. “I don’t recognize your kingdom,” she snarled.
“I’ve had enough of this. Guards, take that egg from her.”
The two guards looked between each other in uncertainty. “How?” one of them asked.
“I don’t care. Cut off her hand. But keep her alive. I want the rest of Anthoinia to see what happens to a traitor like her.”
With that, the king turned and stormed out of the cell and down the passageway, leaving her alone with the guards.
The two guards advanced, both of them having drawn their swords. Dela glanced between them in horror. Was this really happening? They were going to cut off her hand to get the dragon egg. Sick with fear, she backed away, but there was nowhere she could go. Her back hit the stone wall behind her.
“No, please.” She didn’t want to beg, but the words escaped her tongue. She held out the hand not holding the dragon egg, trying to ward them off, but she was unarmed and defenseless. The only item of furniture in the room was the cot, and she darted toward it, kicking it away from the wall to try to put it between her and the guards. But they were faster than she was, and there were two of them. Strong, merciless hands caught her arms, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. Dela struggled best she could, but they were far stronger.
The two men spoke to each other over the top of her screams.
“Careful of the egg.”
“Get her onto the bed, and then stretch out the arm holding the egg.”
“It’s wrapped around the egg. How are we going to do this without breaking it?”
“No, please, please,” she cried, trying to barge them away with her shoulders, though it did no good.
“Cut her arm off at the elbow. It’s not like she’s going to need it for much longer.”
That they could joke about such a thing made Dela si
ck to her stomach. She didn’t want to think about the blood and agony, or the stupid vanity of being so hideously disfigured, but all these thoughts crowded her mind, making her dizzy with horror.
The taller of the guards stood above her, while the second guard forced her arm out from her body, straining her shoulder to get a clear cut. All the fight went out of her. There was nothing more she could do. She squeezed her eyes shut and stretched her neck as far away from the cut of the sword as she could, not wanting to risk losing her head as well.
With a growl, the guard lifted the sword high above his head. Dela felt the air move past her cheek as it swung back down again. She braced herself for the extreme pain she knew was coming.
But there was nothing.
“What by the Gods?”
She risked opening an eye and glanced over. The whole of her arm and shoulder was lit up in the same blue light Vehel expelled when he did his magic. The binding spell must somehow be protecting her.
The guard lifted the sword and brought it down again, but this time Dela forced herself to watch. The moment the blade hit the light, it glanced off, the metal skimming away from her.
Dela let out a bark of laughter, staring in relief and amazement. Thank you, Vehel.
The two guards looked at each other, baffled. “Now what are we supposed to do?” the one with the sword asked.
“The king wants her alive, for the moment,” the other one said. “He’ll have to take the egg from her when she’s hanging by her throat in the market square.”
So that was to be her fate. Though she knew no good lay in her future, she still couldn’t help her relief at getting to keep her arm. At least she’d die in one piece.
The guards left her again, the door shutting, locking her into darkness once more.
Chapter 31
Dela
Another hour or so passed before the door opened again.
This time, she knew, it was so she could be taken to her death. The one thing that got her feet moving was the possibility she’d see Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel again. She desperately needed to know that they were all right, even though their lives would not continue for much longer.
The guards hauled her from her cell and dragged her back through the passageways of Castle Tearos. She clutched the dragon egg close, wondering what would happen to it once they’d been hung. Would Vehel’s magic stop working when he was dead?
Eventually, they stepped outside, and Dela found herself blinking at the bright light. It was still daytime. It was crazy to think of how she’d spoken to her parents only that morning, and that she’d flown in on the back of a dragon. All that felt as though it had happened a lifetime ago.
They made their way forward, through the gates that led onto the market square and the platform where The Choosing was called from every six months. Her stomach twisted. There was something new on the platform—a row of gallows with four nooses.
The market square was crammed full of people. Word had got out that there was to be a hanging, and this one would be special. Everyone wanted to see the men from the other races hang.
She spotted the thick, black beard of the head of the City Guard, Philput Glod. He stood beside the gallows, with his chin lifted, surveying the crowds. At the back of the platform she saw two other familiar figures, and her heart lifted. Warsgra and Orergon! But where was Vehel?
Orergon must have sensed her approach as he glanced over at her. His lips were pressed together, his dark eyes filled with remorse. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she was the one who’d got him into this mess, and she wished she’d just sent them all home to be with their own people, not to be killed in front of a crowd of strangers baying for their blood. Warsgra also glanced over to her, and she saw the abject fury on his face. If he were to get free, he’d kill every man standing here now. But both their hands and feet were bound, and numerous guards stood with their swords pointed toward the two men, as though they’d strike them down should they so much as lean in the wrong direction.
The guards pushed her up the wooden stairs, onto the platform. The crowds of people stretched out before her like an ocean. She searched their faces, trying to spot someone familiar. Would her parents be here? Had they heard?
From behind came movement, and gasps and murmurs rose from the crowd. She looked to see Vehel being carried out onto the platform.
Vehel was barely conscious, and two men carried him to where Orergon and Warsgra were standing before throwing him to the ground. Were they really going to hang him when it didn’t even look as though he had any idea what was going on? If they wanted him dead, they could have just killed him in the cell, but they didn’t. Instead, they’d hauled him out here in front of everyone, purely so they could make an example of him. That was all they wanted—to show the human population of Anthoinia what would happen if you tried to go against the laws of the city.
A fresh burble of noise rose from the crowds. It wasn’t the raucous jeers and calls she’d heard during previous hangings, but more an uncertain murmuring. But Dela knew the noise wasn’t because they were about to be killed. No, it was their horrified fascination seeing Warsgra, Vehel, and Orergon for the first time.
She tore her attention from the men and scanned the crowd once more. Her heart tightened as she locked eyes with her mother, and then her father standing beside her. Her mother’s eyes were pleading, and she shook her head. Johanna covered her mouth with her hand, and she pressed her forehead to Godfrey’s shoulder as though she couldn’t bear to look at Dela any longer. Dela sought out her father’s face instead and he mouthed, we love you, to her.
I’m sorry, she mouthed back, hoping he understood her. Her eyes filled with tears.
Rough hands pushed her forward, toward the nooses hanging from the gallows, and a roar erupted from the crowd. She thought it had to do with her at first, but then she realized a new person had arrived on the platform. It was King Roland Crowmere, and just behind him stood his wife, the queen.
The egg. If only the egg would hatch, it at least might buy them some time. But despite the heat and movement she’d sensed, the egg remained just an egg.
Dela fought against the tears pricking the backs of her eyes and threatening to close off her throat. She didn’t want to cry in front of all these people. She didn’t want their last thoughts and memories of her to be of weakness. But, despite her best efforts, a tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. She wasn’t crying for herself. She was crying for the lives of Warsgra and Orergon and Vehel, and the anguish of her mother and father, and for all the thousands of deaths that were going to happen in Xantearos.
Philput Glod stepped forward, and the crowd fell quiet. “Dela Stonebridge,” he called out, “Vehel Dawngleam of the Elvish, Warsgra Tuskeye of the Norcs, and Orergon Ortiz of the Moerians. You are sentenced to death for theft and rebellion against the kingdom.”
A fresh roar erupted from the crowd as they were each pushed forward, closer to the gallows. Warsgra barged his shoulders against the guards pushing him, but he had a sword at his back, and both his hands and feet were tied. Orergon shuffled forward, his head held high, appearing as noble as possible in the situation.
No longer caring what people thought of her—she had nothing left to lose—she shouted into the crowd. “Don’t just stand there! You’re being used. You’re being repressed. Our lives don’t need to be like this. The war doesn’t need to happen.”
But instead of rising up, she saw shame in the hundreds of pairs of eyes looking up at her, shame and embarrassment on her behalf. This was it. No one was going to help them. They were going to hang in front of all these people, and there was nothing she could do about it.
In the far distance, beyond the city walls, echoed a mournful, ancient screech.
Dela’s heart lurched. Could it be? Dared she hope?
Moving as one, the entire crowd turned toward the sound.
It appeared as a black speck at first, a dot against the blu
e of the sky, but then it grew larger, taking shape. A long, curved neck. Massive wings outspread. A spiked tail extended behind.
The screech came again, louder this time.
A ripple of fear ran through the crowd. What had at first been uncertainty and confusion, and perhaps even a little awe and wonder, quickly morphed to panic. As the dragon flew ever closer, people began to realize the creature was heading directly toward them. Murmurs rose to shouts, and the crowd started to move. Shoulders jostled, and hands shoved as people tried to get away.
Dela couldn’t help the triumph that rose inside her. In her arms, the dragon egg moved again, that same feeling of something pressing against the inside of the shell. Heat spread through her, and she lifted her face to the sky, a smile pulling on the corners of her mouth.
He was here.
Multifaceted scales glinted green, blue, and purple in the sunlight. Dela caught a glint in its eyes, which appeared red this time with anger, and an intelligence far exceeding most of the people here.
“Get back!” shouted the head guard, Philput Glod. “Protect the king and queen!”
A couple of the guards backed away to try to protect King and Queen Crowmere with their swords, but others stood wide-eyed and staring up into the sky in fear.
Laughter bubbled up inside Dela’s chest. Just how did they think they were going to fight a dragon with swords? It would be like throwing pins against stone. Some of the men seemed to realize this, and they dropped their weapons with a clatter and fled.
The dragon swept down and opened its mouth wide. Smoke poured out from its nostrils.
“Dela, move back!” Warsgra suddenly shouted.
She’d been the one closest to the gallows, and at the last moment she realized what was about to happen. She staggered backward, thankful her feet weren’t tied, as flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth, and all four of the gallows and their hanging nooses disintegrated in flames. Dela reared back, the heat blasting against her skin, and she smelled hair burning and was sure she might have just lost some of her eyebrows.
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