Fingers caressed my cheek. I barely managed not to shudder. “Good. All is in place. Continue administering the drug in my absence. I doubt this will take long.”
Lips kissed my forehead, followed by a whisper. “I’ll be back, my love.”
I fought the urge to wrinkle my forehead at the wetness his lips had left. Footsteps again, and the closing of the door.
*Thorkel’s going through with some plan—Maolmuire! I heard Maolmuire’s name before they drugged me.*
Flare of anger. *Traitorous whelp. I bet he’s working with his mother. She helped Thorkel’s dragon escape years ago. I knew we should have—* A pause. *The dragons are preparing for flight… Idiotic lizards. I can so beat him.*
Excitement grew in my chest. *You can escape?*
*They left me with an arrogant weakling of a guard. I can take care of him. I cannot take care of this chain around my foot. Forged with magic, I bet.*
*My guard’s ignoring me. Tell me when you think the dragons are out of range. Then I’ll escape and…*
I fell silent. And what? Return to the Kyer? I couldn’t claim Krysta of Clearspring’s blood without also revealing my father’s identity. Thorkel had spoken true. Drageria would never trust me, and hatred… I thought of Tressa and suppressed the urge to cringe.
Whether the truth got out or not, one thing wouldn’t change. Shamino would never want to speak to me again.
The guard began to doze. Quietly, I lifted my arm. No heaviness. The dragonsbeard had worn off, and I finally remembered the rest of Thorkel’s words.
*Thorkel told Maolmuire that the trap is set. Not sprung. He’s planning something for the Kyer,* I told Mettalise. *After I take out the guard, I’m searching the house. We need to get Thorkel’s plans to Merram.*
Shamino had never been mine. That didn’t mean I wanted dragons to die, or their humans. Drageria could reject me, that was its choice. My choice was to go after the blood-red dragon and its rider.
Minutes passed. More. For the first time, I missed the Time Spheres. Finally, Mettalise signaled that the enemy dragons should be out of range.
Slowly I shifted my weight, seeing if the bed creaked. It didn’t. I eased myself to sitting. The guard continued to doze. The room was simple; it only had the bed, a chair, the table—on the table, an earthen bowl.
I stood, slipped my hands around the bowl. Every rustle from my clothing made my heart skip a beat. The soles of my boots pressed against a rug—I made a mental note, if I ever needed to hold someone captive, I should remove all rugs. I lifted the bowl. The guard sighed in his sleep.
The bowl gave a low, dull crack as it hit his head. He slumped and I awkwardly caught him. We collapsed together, him on top. I scrambled to pin him, paused when he didn’t move. I’d successfully knocked him out.
*Too easy,* I said to Mettalise as I checked the man’s breathing. *He was supposed to struggle or cry out or something.*
*Be grateful. There are many guards to go.*
*I know. That’s why I’m unhappy. I used all my luck on the first one.*
I considered taking the man’s sword, but I had no training. I hid it under the mattress instead. I did take his dagger and used it to cut the blanket into strips. I belted the dagger to my waist. Every thud we made as I wrestled him into the chair set my nerves on edge, but soon I had him tied with the shredded blanket.
I pressed my ear to the door. Nothing. Eased it open. No one roamed the halls, either. I hoped Thorkel had taken most of his men with him.
Which way? Four other doors lined my side of the hallway, and I suspected they were small rooms like my own. On the opposite wall, a single door. Doors on both ends. I picked the single door in the long hallway. I tiptoed, pressed my ear—
Thick, unknown words and laughter. Not my door.
I tried one of the end doors next. Silent. And locked—I liked locked. Cautiously I fed my Gift through the lock; I found a spell there, and it took very little effort to unravel it. Better and better, because only Thorkel could dare to use such a simple lock. I slipped inside.
“I really can’t be this lucky,” I murmured. Unlike the other rooms, this one showed no sign of decay. The plaster on the walls was new. There were no stains on the ceiling, and the floor had been smoothed and polished. One side of the room had been turned into a personal area, the main feature a large bed with a ridiculous number of pillows. The rest of the room was more of a study, with a desk and a bookcase. A map of Drageria-Carthesia hung on one wall, marking the front with tiny green and yellow circles. Green circles also trailed from the Kyer and Dragonsridge—our courier lines.
Desk first. Most of the papers were written in hopeless Carthesian. The rest, financial records, supply lists. I spent one minute, five. More. I began checking drawers, but I found nothing. When I knelt to search the bottom drawer, I noticed a pile of crumpled papers on the floor. I took one, smoothed it out—
“Shamino?” I breathed.
*Are you found?*
I calmed my shock. *Sorry. I found letters, a whole pile of them, and they’re written by—no. This looks like Shamino’s handwriting, but…* I flushed. Shamino formed his words with careful precision, just like the letter writer, but whenever the real Shamino wrote my name it was as if his pen relaxed. The ‘A’ in Adara didn’t peak sharply, the last stroke usually trailed…
*Shamino didn’t write these. They are drafts of a single letter… Give me a second.* I rummaged until I found a few of the more complete ones and began reading. *Pigshit.*
Thorkel
