Chapter 12 #2
Shadows rippled along the ground, brushing her feet with cold, curling fingers. But his anger waned as he paused before her again.
The moonlight fell like a silvery veil between them.
His eyes burned brighter, seeing right through her. Yet I am not the only one who is confined.
Alora’s lips parted with a faint breath.
How did he know?
Of course he knew. The gods knew everything. Including her desperation to be free from royal duty.
You came here to make a bargain with the shadows, Rune pressed. But you desire more than to eliminate your invaders. Speak freely.
There was no clever answer to that. No half-truth she could hide behind.
“My people suffer under a curse that renders them into a permanent sleep. The gods are the bearers of this world, the source of all, including magic. You must know how to unravel it.”
For a long moment Rune was silent. Then a low rumble stirred his chest, more amused than sympathetic. Curses are chains of another kind. Some shatter easily, while others bind until the end of days.
Her stomach knotted. “Then, you cannot break it?”
I did not say that. His tail flickered behind him pensively. Curses always demand a price. Such are the rules of magic. His head tilted, maw curling in something like a smile. It can be broken with the right boon. True love’s kiss, perhaps.
The dragon laughed and she tensed at the strange beastly sound.
You might consider simply letting the curse take its course. Then you would have no need of my aid, princess. All would eventually succumb to it, and in so doing… grant the freedom you so desire.
Alora blinked, realizing with a chill that it was true. But she shook off the thought. To give such a flippant answer, she wondered if he had been the one to cast it.
“I won’t do that,” she said firmly.
You wish to save a kingdom that will remain your prison?
She thought of the high walls of the castle. The locked doors. The loneliness. The way she was hidden away in the Midlands, kept but never heard. Even if she didn’t marry Prince Eldrik, she would remain trapped at her father’s whim.
Still, her people didn’t deserve to suffer for that.
Alora clenched her jaw. “Yes.”
The cavern trembled with his growl.
I can taste your lies, he snarled. I will hear the truth. What do you want most?
Her heart squeezed and her confession spilled. “I… I want to be free. From my father. From duty. From all authorities that be. I wish to be a princess no more.”
Her confession earned its pleased hum. Poor little bird in a cage. Do you know what it means to make a deal with the dark?
“I’m told you’re a demon.” She clenched her shaking fists. “They say a deal with you will cost of my soul but it’s all I have to trade.”
Then chains rattled as the dragon moved closer. Close enough to see the flames churning in his eyes. You trade what is not yours to give, but I will gladly take it.
She ignored the tremble wrapping around her spine. “Then we have a bargain?”
With a flick of his tail, the chains struck the stone at her feet.
They were anchored deep into the ground, etched with divine glyphs glowing like trapped starlight. These weren’t made by mortal hands. She could feel the power woven in them, power so immense it belonged to the Seven.
Grant me my freedom, Alora Lark of Argyle, and I shall grant you yours.
Her chest rose with shallow breaths as their gazes locked. Every instinct screamed caution. Whatever had bound him here, the gods were not punished without reason.
Her voice came out thin. “Why were you chained?”
The dragon bared its fangs in what might have been a smile. The sight made her shiver all the way down to her bones.
What other reason would there be to chain a monster?
She swallowed hard, whispering, “To stop it from doing monstrous things…”
His quiet, dark chuckle carried in the cave.
By no means could anyone mistake him for anything but evil, but Alora ignored the warning in her heart.
Because she would rather gamble with a wicked god than bow to Calveron.
She lifted her chin. “If I release you, do you swear to do no harm to me or my people?”
The dragon lowered onto his forepaws, as though the thought of razing a small kingdom bored him. You have my vow. I will enact no violence upon you or the citizens of Argyle.
A wave of silvery magic rippled through the cavern, brushing over her skin like an unseen brand. Alora flinched, shivering as something invisible carved his words into her being.
“What was that?” she whispered.
A god’s promise.
The storm of anxiety in her chest eased, albeit a little. If she knew anything of the gods, it was that they rarely gave their word.
Her legs steadied as she stepped closer. “How do I release you?”
I need but a drop of blood given willingly… His voice lingered on the pause, eyes burning brighter. Then our contract will be sealed, and your soul will be mine.
Alora’s heart thundered behind her ribs, her body growing cold. This was it, what she came for. To give up something as essential as her soul was terrifying. But so was living with her life bound to someone else’s will.
Zinnia’s rule surfaced in her mind.
Never spill your blood…
But Argyle hung now in the balance, and she was the only one who could help them now.
Alora drew in a steadying breath. Her fingers brushed her pocket, and she pulled out the crimson spindle. It glimmered faintly in the moonlight.
The sound of her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she lifted the crystal needle. The old scar on her fingertip tingled, hot and raw, as if she had pressed it against iron. Something screamed in warning. She quickly dropped the spindle back into her pocket and removed her lark hairpin instead.
Inhaling a breath, Alora quickly pricked her finger.
The instant it pierced her flesh, the cavern shuddered.
The shadows shrieked like a thousand voices torn open at once, a chorus of rage that clawed at her ears.
A wind roared through the cave, an icy void pressing into her, sharp and suffocating.
The stone beneath her vibrated, a low groan like the mountain itself had stirred.
Alora staggered back, clutching her hand. A raw, searing ache spread from her fingertip and through her being as though her own body rebelled against her. As though something lost inside her had surfaced.
Across the cavern, Rune’s eyes flamed with alarm, the shadows at his claws rippling restlessly, recoiling behind him. For a heartbeat he stared her, unnervingly still, gaze narrowing in suspicion.
A low rumble rolled from his chest. What magic lies in your veins?
The sharp unease in his voice made Alora’s pulse thrash in her throat. Her skin was clammy, her body shaky as though she had broken something inside of her. She pressed her finger tight against her thumb, trying to stop the trembling.
“That wasn’t my doing,” Alora whispered.
The mountain groaned with another dim quake. Rune said nothing more as he observed her and the gleaming spindle in her hand.
Why was he so confused? It was his trinket, after all.
Bracing herself, Alora stepped toward the chains. She pinched her fingertip, a scarlet bead welling forth. Together they watched the drop of her blood fall against the steel.
Light flared along the divine chains, the ancient symbols blazing before guttering out one by one. Then, with a thunderous crack, the manacles split and fell, crashing heavily on the stone.
For a breath, the dragon did not move.
Then he rose to his full height, wings unfurling with a leathery snap that hit her with a gust of wind. His roar tore through the dark like a storm breaking, so vast it shook her bones. Alora gasped, stumbling back.
His laugh followed, low and feral, curling inside her mind. His eyes slid closed briefly in triumph. Oh… yes.
She stared, wide-eyed, watching the scorched flesh where his shackles had bound him knit and heal before her eyes. His gaze lingered on her for a long breath and her heartbeat climbed.
Nothing bound him anymore.
But then a faint shaft of moonlight touched the edge of his jaw. His scales sizzled instantly, smoke curling from the burn. He recoiled with a snarl, dragging back into shadow.
Alora froze at this first glimpse of weakness. Her eyes flicked up to the jagged gap in the ceiling.
The light burned him.
His glowing eyes locked with hers and she sensed his ire, but not toward her.
In three days’ time, on the night of the new moon, I will descend upon the invaders on your shores, he said and she smiled, heavy relief sinking through her.
The dragon’s red eyes faded as it retreated into the depthless darkness of the cavern.
And once their screams end and the fires die—I will come for you.
Alora blinked at him, her breath catching. “I don’t understand.”
Did you forget? His voice purred in her ear, as though he stood beside her. The shadows writhed around her legs, coiling up over her waist. You bargained away your soul for my aid. Therefore, you now belong to me.
Her heart lurched. She jerked forward but stepped back into the moonlight. “That was not our agreement!”
We agreed I would grant you freedom. From your father. From tyranny. From duty. You will no longer be a princess. Not the bride of a foreign nation, but mine.
“No…” She stumbled backward, her throat catching with a sob. “I didn’t want this…”
The song had been a warning. So plain to see. She thought herself clever, but the God of Shadows had lured her into a deal on his terms. A snare wrapped in silk, as merciless as the manacles in the dust.
Her eyes welled. “Why me?”
Dragons are always seeking treasure for their troves.
The amusement in his tone suggested other things Alora couldn’t pretend to understand. He mocked her as everyone else did.
“How is this meant to be freedom?” she asked, not bothering to disguise her tears. “You have trapped me within another prison when all I wanted was peace!”
The God of Shadows quieted.
She couldn’t see him, but his gaze settled on her like a weight. When he spoke again, his voice was almost pitying.
Peace is temporary. Freedom an illusion. As my bride, no king will barter you, no council will cage you. Walk in my shadows and the world will bow at your feet.
She turned in place, sensing his silent presence circling her like prey.
I will give you anything you desire. Wealth, crowns, vengeance. There is but one tether I demand: that you remain by my side for all eternity. Give me your soul and I will provide liberties the world never offered you.
Such pretty words. So charming and tempting. If she had not already been fooled by him. Eternity. The thought made her teeth clench. Regardless, logic argued this could work in her favor. The God of Shadows was power incarnate, and power was the last coin left to her.
Use him. Use his power. Survive.
Because she had not come this far to bend to another.
His presence retreated into the dark, his voice fading. Go now and await the downfall of your enemies.
Alora gave a shaky nod.
“Thank you,” she said and winced. A habit of courtly etiquette.
He laughed again, softer now, but far from kind.
You will not thank me for long.
Without warning, darkness ripped her backward. She fell through shadow and flame and woke to hands shaking her awake.
“Alora!” A warm hand patted her cheek.
Her vision struggled to clear, her body limp as if she had lost all strength. But she recognized her father’s voice and his distorted features looking down at her. The room was lit with torches that reflected off the armor of the castle guards.
Caelum knelt at her side, concerned. “Princess, what happened? Are you harmed?”
She tried to form words to say she was fine.
Laurent slumped back, his complexion paling when he looked past her. “By the Seven, child. What have you done?”
The spindle rolled out of Alora’s fingers, clattering on the floor. She followed everyone’s stare to the mirror where a drop of her blood rolled down, shaping into a hellish glyph. It blazed and the glass splintered.
Alora tried to move but she may as well be stone. It was as if the shadows themselves had reached into her chest and stolen her breath, her very will. The mirror caught fire, scattering fractures of light into her fading vision.
The world tilted.
Alora tried to reach for Caelum, for air, for anything.
But the dark claimed her first.