47

“He has to shed those scales,” she said, “but they’re too valuable to shed in the palace right now, where a wolf could potentially get their hands on them. He’s come back to do it here.”

“So we can get them,” I said. “How? Where does he leave them?”

“They’re a part of his hoard,” she said. “You’ll have to get them before he hides them.”

“Me?”

“I can’t get close enough to his quarters.” She gestured demonstrably to the band around her wrist again. “Even when he’s here and so the ward is dispelled. But you can.” She paused. “Is he in there now?”

“He said he was going to rest,” I said. “He looks pretty beat up from whatever is happening at the palace.”

She nodded. “Give it a few hours,” she said. “Tonight. You can sneak in to his quarters and retrieve the scales.”

“Where will they be?” I asked.

A small, cold smile curled her lips. “On his body.”

I balked. “What? I have to pry them off?”

She nodded. “They’ll come off easily. But yes, you’ll have to pull them from his body before they come off themselves.”

“While he’s asleep?”

“Ideally.”

“That won’t wake him up?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“And if it does?”

Corinne raised one pale eyebrow. “Make an excuse. Don’t get caught. But once we get them, we can get out of here. That’s what you want, right?”

I nodded, then chewed on my thumbnail, mildly anxious. My wolf whined internally. She wanted to pace. Something about this plan felt off. Reckless. But I didn’t have another option. If we needed the Draunar’s scales to get out of here—I could get them. I had to.

Down in the palace, Elias was still fighting. I needed to be by his side. He needed to know about Draunar’s plans, his current captive, and his future ones too.

Corrine and I passed a few quiet hours in the alcove across from Draunar’s quarters. I had a book open in my lap, but I kept reading the same passage over and over, unable to process any of the words. My nerves chewed at me, and the small knife I’d pulled from his hoard when I’d first arrived felt like it weighed as much as a brick in my pocket. Corinne was not interested in talking or telling me more about the process of building this spell. Every time I tried to ask a question, barely whispered, she only shushed me and returned to her book.

So I was left alone with my circling thoughts.

Even though I knew it was risky to try to pull this off, I didn’t see any other option. Even if Draunar caught me, what could he do that was worse than the fate I was doomed to now? It was better to have a tiny chance of getting back to Elias than no chance at all. No one knew where this cavern was. No one could get me out. Corinne and her Fae magic were my only chance.

Finally, she closed the book and nodded. “He should be asleep now,” she whispered. “He is a deep sleeper, but still, move carefully.”

I nodded, then set my book aside and climbed to my feet. I threw Corinne a playful salute in an attempt to cut the tension hovering in the still air, but she only narrowed her eyes and nodded toward the door on the other side of cavern.

I swallowed, then checked for the hundredth time that the knife was still in my pocket. Then I approached the carved obsidian door with trepidation.

The door was immense, larger than any other in the cavern. It was one great block of obsidian, nearly twice my height, and decorated in a detailed carving of two dragons facing each other with their fangs bared and their wings wide. In the center, between their clasped claws, was a recession in the shape of a handprint. It was bigger than my own hand, made for the King of Shianga to push open. I paused, as my open hand hovering over it, then closed my eyes.

I brought my wolf closer to the surface. I didn’t shift, but I leaned into her senses. I let her attention overtake my nerves, and let her examine the door. My nape prickled with her awareness, and still air felt a little denser in my nostrils, a little more layered with the scents of stone and sweat and water. Even with my hand this close to the entrance, there was no magic I could sense. Not from Corinne, and not from the door. I could feel the sconces, distantly, like the way my wolf could sense an oncoming storm. There was magic here, in the cavern, but not on the door.

I opened my eyes and let my wolf burrow deeper. Then, gently, I placed my hand in the divot. I half-expected it to push me away with some advanced draconic magic I hadn’t been able to sense, but there was nothing. It was just a door.

It wasn’t even locked. The door moved silently over the cavern floor. It was heavy, but opened fluidly.

I glanced over my shoulder. Corinne nodded at me. With her encouragement, I steeled myself, and slipped into Draunar’s quarters.

Inside, the cavern was dark, dimly lit by what appeared to be a fire, glowing in a hearth carved into the side of the long, narrow chamber. But there was no ventilation in the chamber, and no smoke either. As I stepped into the room, I saw it wasn’t fire in the hearth, but a glimmering, glowing light, dancing behind a foggy glass screen. The light moved over the stone walls, which were inlaid with gems and gold in a tiled mosaic pattern that went all the way into the ceiling. The sheer amount of color was dizzying. The floors of the cavern were covered in elegant, plush, colorful rugs—none of the ratty sheepskins like the ones in my room. These were thick, hand-woven, and layered in stacks of three, as if Draunar had so many he couldn’t choose one.