Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I slip out from behind the tapestry and begin my search.
The room is obsessively clean with every object in its place. I start with the wardrobe—velvets, satins, more black and crimson gowns than I can count.
I search them all but there’s nothing hidden in the pockets. I check the drawer of the carved vanity. I find lip paint, kohl pencils, and crystal bottles of perfume. I lift each one carefully, searching beneath them.
Then I notice the hearth.
Above it, hanging like a trophy, is an ornate gilded sconce with a single velvet pouch dangling from one horned hook. Gold velvet.
Just like the one she used to tuck the key away.
I dart forward and reach up, my fingers trembling. The pouch is heavier than I thought. I tug the drawstring and peer inside to see…
There! A thick, black iron key, cold to the touch.
I clutch it to my chest, swallowing hard. This is it—this is the key to freeing Xaren’s Drake. I can feel it in my bones.
But then I hear a voice—a horribly familiar voice—right behind me.
And I know that I’m trapped with no where to go.
34
ELAINA
The Queen’s voice is like a blade—cold, precise and laced with venom.
“—or you’ll never amount to anything, Dorian—not with a Drake barely the size of a small cottage. Be honest, my son—your Drake doesn’t even breathe flame. That’s why we need your older brother. So no, I will not give the order to kill him.”
I freeze, pressing myself into the shadows behind the velvet tapestry as her words slither through the air.
I’d been about to turn and sneak back the way I came—my fingers still tingling from the weight of the iron key I just dropped into the pouch and rehung on the ornate sconce above the hearth. But the sound of her voice stops me cold.
They’re here—closer than I thought. My heart thunders. I barely dare to breathe.
The chamber beyond is a study in cruel beauty. Black velvet drapes hang heavy as mourning veils, trimmed in blood-red satin. Mirrors framed in gold line the walls—warped reflections stare back at me like cruel eyes. The fire crackles low in the hearth, casting flickering light across the polished obsidian floor tiles. Everything in this room feels like it was designed to intimidate, to consume.
Just like the woman who owns it.
“I don’t want him around when I ascend the throne , Mother,” Prince Dorian snaps, his petulant voice rising. “I want him gone. You must give the order to kill him!”
“Don’t be an idiot.” The Queen’s tone is sharp. “Without Xaren’s Drake, our borders will fall. Do you think your mewling little lizard will protect us when the western baronies rise again? When the kingdoms to our South return for vengeance?”
“I could do it,” Dorian insists. “If you’d just—”
“No,” she cuts him off. “You couldn’t. Your Drake isn’t strong enough. Your brother is the Kingdom’s shield—whether he likes it or not.”
They’re walking deeper into the room now, and I hear the soft rustle of her skirts against the stone floor—layers upon layers of fine brocade and stiff netting. My stomach drops as I realize they’re heading straight toward the hearth.
No, no, no—
I creep away from the fireplace, finally making it back to the wall. If I can just hide behind the tapestry, I’ll be all right. I slide behind the heavy fold of fabric, trying not to sneeze from the dust.
I’m almost there. I curse myself for not taking the heavy iron key with me, but I know if the Queen had caught me with it I would have lost a hand—or worse. Maybe I can just stay here in the secret passage until she leaves again and then go get it. But first, I have to get to safety.
Slowly, carefully, I begin to edge toward the secret panel. If I can just—
My heel scuffs the stone—the tiniest sound. A whisper…a breath.
“What was that?” Dorian’s voice slices the air.
Before I can move, the tapestry is ripped aside and I’m caught in a spill of firelight, blinking up at them like a cornered rabbit.
“You,” the Queen says, eyes narrowing to slits. “Of course.”
She doesn’t even look surprised. Just…annoyed. Like I’m a bit of mud on the hem of her gown.
Dorian grabs me roughly by the arm and hauls me into the center of the room.
“You filthy little thief,” he snarls, his hand tightening painfully. “What were you trying to steal, hmm? Something pretty to hawk at market before you ran away? Or were you looking for the key to your precious monster’s collar?”
I say nothing. My heart is racing, my mouth dry. I can feel the Queen’s gaze stripping me bare.
Dorian shoves me against the edge of the Queen’s vast marble vanity, hard enough to bruise me, and begins to paw at me with rough hands.
“Stop it!” I twist away, but he’s stronger and furious. His hands are everywhere—grabbing, probing, forcing their way down my bodice like he thinks I’ve hidden an expensive necklace or a priceless brooch between my breasts. His fingers pinch and bruise as he yanks at my gown, tearing the delicate lace.