Chapter Three
“I’M SURE THERE’S SOMETHING more I can do,”
Ansley said as he scribbled something in his notebook.
His elbow almost landed on his plate, but Parker managed to slide it away.
Dallin eyed him from the other side of the table.
He was worried about his brother, and he knew he should say something, but he couldn’t find it in himself to.
Ansley was overworking himself, obsessing over his spell and why it wasn’t working.
He wanted to find Sol almost as much as Dallin did, for which Dallin was grateful.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if the other mages decided to stop looking for Sol.
They wouldn’t.
Even if they didn’t care about Dallin, they still needed all the mages to be protected when the fight with Carlyle started.
They couldn’t afford to lose any of them when they’d struggled so much to trap Carlyle in the gem the first time they’d fought him.
They couldn’t allow Carlyle to have the upper hand.
They didn’t know what Carlyle was doing with Sol or why he’d taken him, but it couldn’t be good.
That meant they had to get Sol away from Carlyle so he didn’t become another weapon.
How were they supposed to do that? No matter how many times Ansley tried, he couldn’t find either of them.
Carlyle had to be using a spell to block Ansley’s tracing spell, and Dallin was starting to think that there was no way for Ansley to break through it.
“You should eat more,”
Parker said, pushing Ansley’s plate closer to Ansley now that he was done taking notes.
Ansley blinked at his boyfriend as if he’d forgotten he was there.
That was one of the reasons Dallin was worried.
Ansley should be happy.
He’d been the first to find his dragon, and since then, he, Parker, and Parker’s son had become a family.
Ansley wasn’t supposed to be obsessed with finding Sol.
He was supposed to focus on the people he loved and on building a life for himself and them.
Dallin swallowed and looked down at his plate.
He pushed a piece of meat toward the edge, knowing he should eat but unable to stomach the thought of putting anything in his mouth.
He felt that if he tried, he might throw up.
He should eat, though.
There was no doubt in his mind that Carlyle was coming for them, and they had to be ready when that happened.
They needed to keep up their strength, which meant rest and food.
Dallin wasn’t sleeping well.
He kept having nightmares of what Carlyle might be doing to Sol, and most nights, he also struggled to fall asleep.
As soon as his head hit the pillow and he turned off the light, his brain started working overtime.
It kept offering him possible scenarios about what Carlyle was doing, each one more horrible than the one before it.
It was too easy for Dallin to spiral, and he’d started falling asleep listening to podcasts or watching TV.
It was the only way to distract himself long enough.
He wasn’t doing well.
He hadn’t expected to be, but he felt like if he continued down this path, he would be useless to Sol.
Dallin would free his dragon, be it the last thing he did.
He just needed to find a way to do it.
“Parker’s right,”
Jarvis said.
“Exhausting yourself isn’t going to help anyone, not even Sol. You need to get some sleep and eat, Ansley.”
Ansley frowned.
“You two realize you’re not my fathers, right?”
“I don’t need to be your father to worry about you,”
Parker said.
“You haven’t been eating. You’re barely sleeping. You’re focused on your work, and I’m not saying that you need to stop, but you have to take better care of yourself.”
From Ansley’s expression, Dallin could tell he was going to push back. Dallin didn’t want Ansley to stop searching for Sol, but he suspected that he was the only one who could make Ansley slow down. After all, Sol was his dragon. Ansley was doing this for Sol, but mostly, he was doing it for Dallin.
“He’s right,”
Dallin said.
It was as if all noise had been sucked out of the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him. Dallin thought that maybe they were waiting for him to break down.
He didn’t. He cleared his throat and looked at Ansley.
“It won’t do Sol any good if you collapse while trying to cast a spell.”
“I’m trying as hard as I can.”
Dallin didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want Ansley to cry, either, because if his brother started, Dallin would, too, and he wasn’t sure he’d stop. “I know.”
“I’ve been trying everything I can think of. I’ve modified the ingredients and the spell. I’ve tried with and without you there. I’ve even tried with Pippa, but nothing’s working.”
“I know,”
Dallin reassured him.
“I don’t expect you to work miracles. Everyone has been doing everything they can to get Sol back. It’s not your fault that we haven’t been able to yet.”
Ansley’s expression crumbled.
“Why does it feel like it is, then?”
A tear rolled down Ansley’s cheek.
Parker was on him instantly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to whisper something in his ear.
Dallin stared at them for a moment, but it was too much.
He pushed his chair away from the table as he dropped his fork.
The sound of metal on ceramic was loud, but Dallin didn’t apologize.
He turned and walked away, ignoring the people calling for him to wait.
He couldn’t wait.
If he did, he was going to break down and start sobbing at the dinner table, and no one wanted to see that.
Dallin certainly didn’t.
He loved his brothers and trusted them with his life, but he didn’t need them to comfort him.
He didn’t need them to tell him that everything would be okay.
They didn’t know that everything would be okay.
Hell, if Dallin had to guess, everything wouldn’t be okay.
There was no way Carlyle wasn’t hurting Sol.
He didn’t want to think about what Carlyle might be doing to Sol, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing just that.
He could think of a dozen spells that would hurt Sol without killing him.
Carlyle probably wanted revenge for what Dallin and the others had done to him, and Sol was the one who was paying for it.
He was the only dragon Carlyle had managed to get his hands on, and Dallin had no doubt that Carlyle was making the most out of that.
He bit his lower lip hard so he wouldn’t start wailing in the middle of the hallway.
He didn’t run, but it was a close thing.
He had no idea where he was going, but he didn’t need to know.
The castle was big enough that he could hide somewhere.
He’d see them tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he would give them the opportunity to fuss over him and make sure he was okay.
Tonight, he’d do what he always did.
He’d cry as he thought about Sol and about what both of them stood to lose.
A GLASS CONTAINER CRASHED against the wall.
Sol winced, grateful that hadn’t been his head.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Carlyle decided to aim his anger at him, though.
Things had been headed that way the past few times Carlyle had pitched a fit.
He was getting more frustrated every time his spell or whatever he was doing didn’t work, and while, for now, he’d taken it out on objects and on Graham, that wouldn’t last forever.
Sol was pretty sure that he was the reason the spell wasn’t working.
It was the only thing that made sense, and once Carlyle had exhausted every other option, he’d turn his focus on him.
“Why isn’t it working?”
Carlyle asked.
He didn’t expect an answer, and Sol made sure to keep his mouth shut. He didn’t need to attract that kind of attention.
Unfortunately for him, he got it anyway. Carlyle swiped everything off the table. It crashed on the stone floor, pieces scattering everywhere. Carlyle was panting. His cheeks were red, and his hair was messy. He looked around as if searching for something else to break, and his gaze stopped on Sol.
That couldn’t be good.
“It’s you,”
Carlyle said.
Sol had no idea what to do. Should he ignore Carlyle? Should he answer him? Should he try to placate him? Sol didn’t want to make things worse, but just standing there staring back wouldn’t help.
Carlyle stalked toward the bars. Sol was bigger than him, both in height and in muscles, but Carlyle was a mage. Even if Sol shifted into his dragon form, he was pretty sure that Carlyle could kick his ass.
He’d tried shifting a few times when he’d first been locked in the cell. It had been a tight fit, and even as a dragon, he hadn’t been able to do much. There was no way out of the cell, no matter what form he was in.
But there was a way in for Carlyle.
Sol watched as Carlyle opened the door.
He pushed it so hard that it slammed, the sound loud and grating.
Sol eyed the door, wondering if maybe he could somehow get around Carlyle and escape.
The only way to do that would be to knock Carlyle out, and he wasn’t sure how to do that.
Carlyle snapped something that sounded like it was in a different language, and Sol’s body locked up.
It was as if his feet were rooted to the floor, and no matter how hard he tried moving, he couldn’t.
Maybe Carlyle had realized that Sol had been thinking about escaping, or maybe he just wanted Sol to stay still for what he was planning.
Whatever the reason, Sol wasn’t going anywhere. The only thing he could do was watch as Carlyle stalked toward him.
Carlyle stopped in front of Sol and looked him up and down.
“I’ve never understood why the bond was so important to them. The only thing shields are good for is to protect and power us. Why would I want to be tied down to one of you?”
Sol had no idea what Carlyle was talking about. He still didn’t know anything beyond the fact that he could turn into a dragon while Carlyle had magic. He didn’t know what bond Carlyle was talking about, but the way he was speaking didn’t sound good.
“But I need that bond now,”
Carlyle continued.
“It’s the only way for me to get your magic.”
He leaned so close that Sol thought their noses would brush together. He didn’t want to touch Carlyle, so he attempted to rear back, but he couldn’t move.
“I need to break the bond that’s already in you. Nothing I’ve tried works, but I only used magic until now. Maybe I need a different approach. Maybe I need to be more physical.”
Sol saw it coming.
Carlyle cocked his fist back, but Sol couldn’t even close his eyes as the punch came toward him.
He was frozen, but his body moved anyway.
He couldn’t control it as he fell back.
He hit the floor, wheezing out a breath, but Carlyle was already on him.
The mage kicked Sol in the stomach.
Sol attempted to curl into a ball without success.
He tried to tell Carlyle to stop—hell, he wouldn’t hesitate to beg at this point—but no sound came out of his mouth.
He was like a flesh statue or maybe a human punching bag.
That was what Carlyle was treating him as.
Luckily for Sol, Carlyle wasn’t very strong.
Sol had noticed him panting just to go up and down the stairs.
He wasn’t strong enough to do serious damage as he hit Sol.
He also got tired very quickly, so it wasn’t long before he had to stop and lean over his knees, out of breath and sweating.
Sol was in pain, but he didn’t think anything was broken. He’d be sore and bruised, but he could deal with that.
Carlyle made a disgusted sound and turned.
He stumbled on his way out, but that didn’t stop him.
He slammed the door shut and muttered something, and suddenly, Sol could move again.
He resisted the urge to throw up and instead sat slowly.
He half expected Carlyle to say something else, maybe to threaten him, but he didn’t.
He left, not once looking back at Sol.
Sol groaned as he got to his feet.
He stretched his arms up, twisted this way and that, and made a mental note of his aches.
He hoped this wouldn’t become a recurring way for Carlyle to end his failed spell attempts.
Sol could probably withstand this a few times, but he’d be in trouble if Carlyle decided to use his magic for more than keeping him still.
Soft footsteps made Sol look up.
He wasn’t surprised to see Graham peeking into the room from the stairs.
Normally, Sol would have ignored him, but he couldn’t this time.
This time, he stood strong, exposing his body to Graham.
He wanted the man to see the blood from his split lip.
He wanted Graham to see the dirt from Carlyle’s shoe on his T-shirt.
He wanted Graham to know what Carlyle had done.
“You need to help me,”
he murmured. He knew he had Graham’s attention because the man was staring at him with wide eyes.
“This is the first time he’s hurt me, but you know it won’t be the last. I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but I suspect that whatever result it’s supposed to have, it won’t be good for anyone but him. You can’t allow him to cast that spell.”
Because Carlyle wanted Sol’s magic. He was weak, but with the magic Sol used to shift, he wouldn’t be anymore.
Sol didn’t expect Graham to do anything right now, but he’d wanted to say his piece. Hopefully, he’d gotten through, but he wasn’t sure. Graham was terrified of Simon and Carlyle. It was clear he didn’t want to be here any more than Sol did, but that wouldn’t be enough for him to shake off his fear and do something about it.
Sol didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think there was anything he could do beyond what he’d already done. Talking to Graham might not help, and it might not solve anything, but Sol still had to try.
“Think about it, okay?”
he told Graham.
“I know you’re scared. I am, too, but staying here will end badly for both of us. If you help me escape, we can leave together and protect each other.”
Because Graham might be a bad guy, but it was clear he was as much a victim as Sol was. Sol wanted to save himself, but he also wanted to save Graham.