Chapter 32 Esme
ESME
Boot heels echo down marble corridors as palace guards make their rounds—way more than usual.
Commands bounce off stone walls, mingling with staff whispers that carry news of the crown prince's disappearance. My shadow cloak hugs my form as I slip from one stone dragon to another. I have to keep my distance. My magic hides my form, but I’m not confident it entirely hides my scent.
“You, there!”
Byzu's voice freezes my blood. The service stairwell beckons forty yards ahead—my escape route—but the dragon lord blocks my path.
His gold armor catches torchlight as he strides forward, dark hair disheveled across his forehead.
For a heartbeat, he resembles Dayn, until I register his more twisted features and wider bulk.
“Yes, my lord.” A guard's voice answers from behind me.
I press against cold stone, barely breathing as four soldiers approach Byzu, their postures rigid with anxiety.
“Any sign of him?” Byzu demands.
“No, my lord. We've searched the palace.”
His apparent concern for Dayn doesn't match my suspicions. Unless he’s been directing searches away from wherever he's hidden his brother? I remain motionless, studying the tight line of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes—searching for deception in every twitch of his face.
“Then search the Bellatorium,” Byzu commands. “Every catacomb, every passage.”
I press deeper into shadow. Dayn is here somewhere—I feel it.
My fingers twitch with useless knowledge; I know five blood rituals that could locate him instantly, but Draethys's wards render my native magic impotent.
My shadow abilities might help, if I could figure tracking out.
Combat training never prepared me for that.
Byzu's growl reverberates through stone. “Lord Daynthazar couldn't vanish without leaving something behind.” His words land like hammer blows. “Fresh squad. Fresh eyes. Fresh noses.”
“At once, my lord.”
The guards' boots thunder toward the entrance hall, down the front steps, voices fading into a chorus of urgent commands. The palace hums with growing panic over the missing Crown Prince.
Only Byzu remains, massive and motionless in the corridor. His head turns, gaze sweeping back toward my hiding place.
My lungs freeze mid-breath.
His eyes pass over me, then stop. Return.
I don't breathe. Don't twitch a muscle.
But he approaches. He halts before the statue. My pulse stops dead. His head rotates with excruciating slowness while seconds stretch like taffy. The air congeals around me. Heat climbs my throat. His golden eyes flash white-hot.
“Found you,” he murmurs.
Gods, no—
His hand rises before I can process it. Fire erupts with blinding intensity. I lunge sideways. The blast slams into stone as acrid smoke invades my lungs. I tumble, roll, spring upright, and flee.
“I thought I caught your scent before. Last night too!” Byzu hisses behind me.
I sense the next fireball coming.
Pure instinct takes over—I fling my shadow cloak backward. Dark energy engulfs the flames, extinguishing them with a smoky hiss before retracting into my fingertips.
I stare, stunned.
Byzu's expression mirrors my surprise, but I don’t pause longer. I bolt.
The service stairwell beckons just ahead. If I reach it, cut through to the stone garden, I might disappear into the city. I sprint without hesitation.
Byzu pursues. “Stop running, little shadow,” he calls. “We could…talk.”
“Hard pass!”
I careen down the stairs, nearly breaking my neck. Orange light floods the passage as Byzu hurls another flame, but the cramped space works in my favor. I burst through the exit, wincing as heat licks my skin from his near-miss.
But he won't quit.
“Don't be a fool, Esme!” he growls, conjuring a massive fireball between his palms. “You can’t outrun me.”
I'm only halfway across the stone garden, the service gate still too far away.
I zigzag between towering statues—ancient dragon-kings carved from black limestone, their wings spread wide, veins of gold and crimson minerals threading through the stone like frozen fire. These are the ancestors Byzu wants to honor by reclaiming the surface world.
My foot catches on uneven flagstone. I sprawl forward just as flames roar overhead, singeing my hair. The stench of burnt keratin fills my nostrils as I pat out smoldering strands.
Byzu's footsteps echo closer. “You can't escape me, Esme.”
“Want to test that theory?” A male voice cuts through the garden.
My head snaps up, heart leaping with impossible hope—Dayn?
But it doesn’t sound like him, and the figure stepping from behind a statue definitely isn't Dayn.
“Chad Valgrave?” I rasp, barely recognizing my former classmate. His once-green eyes now pulse crimson, and behind him—
“Brynn?!” I scramble to my feet as my younger sister emerges, her expression a battlefield of determination and terror.
“Hey, sis,” she gasps.
Byzu halts, momentarily thrown by these unexpected arrivals.
Chad thrusts out blood-slicked palms. Nothing happens except a faint ripple in the air.
“Blood magic won't work,” I hiss. “The place is warded. What the hell are you doing here?!”
Chad's eyes never leave Byzu. “Darkbirch elite mission. Rescuing you. Obviously.”
Another fireball hurtles toward us. We dive for cover as I summon every scrap of shadow energy I possess, hurling it at Byzu with a primal scream.
The darkness surges from my fingertips in a solid wave that slams into him with impossible force.
He crashes to the ground, pinned beneath writhing shadows that coil around his limbs and torso like living restraints.
He will not touch my sister.
“What the hell!” Brynn practically chokes beside me.
The darkness seeps through golden plate armor, finding every seam and joint.
Byzu's agonized roar echoes across the garden as shadow-needles pierce his flesh.
Distant shouts and the clatter of armored footsteps grow louder—palace guards converging from all directions, already on edge from their missing prince.
“We need to go. NOW!” I release my grip on Byzu, the shadows reluctantly retreating into my skin. I grab Brynn's wrist and sprint toward the perimeter wall, Chad matching our pace. We vault over the stone barrier, landing hard on the other side.