Sir Callie and the Dragon's Roost, page 28
But Willow is able to take over for me. “Adan and Peran murdered Jowan,” he tells his mother without a waver. “Then they framed Dumoor to create dissent and fuel the war. It was Adan’s arrow that killed Jowan, and it was Adan’s arrow that killed Jory and hurt Callie. All on Peran’s orders. And that’s what they’re going to keep doing until Helston has fallen and there is nothing left.” He brandishes the papers like I would brandish Satin—assured in his strength and ability to strike swift and true. “Letters to Peran from Adan and Lady Anita, containing everything from transcripts of your council meetings to battle plans to maps of Helston. Mother, please, you have to believe us. We knew the dangers of coming back. We knew we would not be welcome. But Helston is my home too, even if it doesn’t want me, and I won’t see it destroyed just because—”
“Let me see these.” Adan snatches the papers from Willow’s fingers before anyone can stop him. He scans them quickly, one after the other, barely more than a second each, then crumples them with a dismissive hiss. “These are poor forgeries, Your Majesty. An unconvincing attempt to discredit me and humiliate you. Nothing more than a ploy to distract us from the real issue.” He glares at me, still addressing Queen Ewella. “I did warn you that they would attempt such tactics.”
“Give those back!” I spit. “If you were so innocent, you wouldn’t care if anyone saw them!”
“They’re right, Adan,” says Papa softly. “Let Her Majesty make her own judgment.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Adan hisses. “Dumoor is advancing at this very moment, and every second we waste is one second closer to defeat.”
“Every second you keep talking is a second closer to defeat.”
Adan rounds on me, and Papa shoves me back before he can strike. It’s close and it sets my heart racing with a fear I didn’t feel before we left Helston. I know Adan better now. I know what he can do. I know what he has done. It would be different if I had Satin.
“You see?” Adan turns to the queen, practically quivering with triumph. “I have been telling you for months that Nicholas is working for the enemy. How could he not be? Ever since the children supposedly defeated a dragon and returned with the witch’s dragon, everyone in Helston knows there is more going on than meets the eye, and here is the result. An infiltrator wearing the dead prince’s face. With all due respect, Your Majesty, if you permit this, how can your people ever trust you again?”
Papa lunges with a face full of thunder and draws his sword in a single whistling motion. “You dare speak to your queen like that?”
Adan doesn’t even flinch. “You lost your authority the moment you were seduced by the enemy, and you have been trying to do the same to Helston ever since. You should’ve been turned out. You should’ve been put down before anyone ever let you near Helston’s children. You are the reason Helston lost Prince Willow and Peran’s kids, and you won’t rest until every single one of our children is lured to the other side.”
“Can you hear yourself?” says Papa. “Can you hear the words coming out of your mouth? Ewella, for goodness’ sake, you can’t believe any of this!”
Queen Ewella looks at us warily, like she can’t trust her own eyes, her own instincts. I don’t blame her. Not really. She has been lied to by so many for so long.
“I have lost everything,” she whispers. “I will not lose my kingdom too.” She turns sharply on her heel with a final, “I will not fall prey to ghosts.”
“Then we’re done!” Papa calls after her, his voice shaking with anger. “I forfeit my titles and my position and my loyalty to Helston. I will do what you are too afraid to, what I should have done right from the beginning, and I am putting my family first. We won’t bother you again.”
“And what about your pet, Nick?” Adan calls after him. “You know the condition of his release. Are you really going to leave him here for us?”
Papa’s hand clenches around my shoulder so hard I wince. “Let. Neal. Go.”
Panic thrums through my chest. “Neal? They’ve got Neal?”
Papa never takes his eyes off Adan’s smirking face. His entire body quakes with rage. “When Adan returned to Helston and told us you’d…fallen, Neal didn’t believe it. He was certain you were still alive. He tried to leave, to go after you. And they arrested him.”
“Why?”
“Were we to let a known enemy return to his master?” Adan scoffs. “I don’t think so. We’d let one dragon escape. We weren’t going to let another go. Besides, your dad needed a little…motivation to stay in line.”
“They’ve been using Neal against me ever since,” says Papa. “On the promise that once the battle is won, they will free him.” His voice cracks. “Callie, I already thought I had lost you. I—I couldn’t lose him too.”
I breathe deeply. I know what I need to do.
No one’s getting left behind. Not again.
This time we go together.
I catch Willow’s eye and mouth, Cover me.
Concealing his fingers by his side, Willow counts down on them: Three, two, one—
And then it’s like he brings the sky down on Helston.
Thunder. Lightning. Thick darkness that sets chaos in motion.
I take off, ignoring the clash of swords and the yells and the magic flashing through the air. When I trip, I pick myself right back up and keep going. There is no choice. I cannot think about anything other than Neal.
Papa and Willow are two of the strongest people I know.
They will be okay.
I have to believe that.
Neal in the dungeons, trapped in the dark as the damp sucks out his magic—he needs me.
Helston is no longer familiar, but my feet know their way around the palace grounds. I zip past the stables and up the hill toward the barracks. The farther I get, the quieter it is.
Everyone is down the hill.
“Stop!” Peter yells not far behind me.
I curse through my teeth and push on.
He isn’t worth the breath it takes to argue with him.
I wish I had Satin. My fists will have to be enough.
“Callie!”
The moment he’s close enough, I wheel and punch him—a single crack to the nose.
Peter gasps and stumbles back, blood already spilling between his fingers.
And then I realize he doesn’t even have his sword drawn.
It hangs untouched at his belt; the pommel a beautiful deep green, detailed with copper.
I recognize it with an outraged cry. “Satin! That’s my sword! Give her back!”
His fingers are already scrambling at the buckle, trying to undo the scabbard before I hit him again, and she’s back in my hands and the weight of her is such a relief I could cry.
Except I don’t.
And I’m not letting Peter off so easily. The thought of anyone touching my sword, let alone him—
“How did you get her?” I demand, leveling her tip not too far from his nose.
Peter puts his hands up in surrender. “You dropped it, back in Dumoor Forest, remember? Adan brought it back as proof you’d fallen. Everyone knows how much you love that sword. After that, I…borrowed it. Look, I don’t have one of my own. Not a good one. And I figured it was better to use it than let it get lost or rusted or—” He deflates with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. She’s home now.”
“Yeah. That’s right. But if you think this makes up for everything you did, to Edwyn, to Jory—”
“I—I didn’t want him to die,” Peter insists. “You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t know Adan was going to kill him. I didn’t know Adan was going to kill you. I—I thought we were just going to scare you a bit, to put you back in your place, but I didn’t…I would never—”
“But you did!” When I turn on him again, Peter recoils, covering his face with his hands. Good. He should be scared. “Like it or not, you’re his accomplice. You let them believe we were dead!”
“He said you were!” Peter insists. His once-white cuff is bright crimson. “He said if we didn’t get to you, Dumoor would. I didn’t know you were alive. I swear!”
“Your oath is worth less than the dirt on my boot.”
“You said you would help me—”
“I said that if you helped me, I’d help you. I don’t see you doing your part.”
“What about this?” He digs into a pocket and pulls out a thick iron key.
I don’t take it when he holds it out. “What is it?”
“To your father’s shackles.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Neal’s?”
Peter nods, not meeting my eye. “I don’t have the key to the dungeons, but you have magic. You got Edwyn and his sister out. I figure you can do it again. But this is my contribution.”
The thought of Neal chained up and underground nearly has me snatching the key right out of Peter’s fingers. But I force a pause.
I cross my arms and glare at him. “And what do you expect in return?”
“I expect nothing, but—” Peter swallows, glancing back down the hill with a whispered, “They’re all going to die. Every one of them. Captain Adan thinks I don’t hear them making plans, but I do. They’re sending out the little ones first, as a distraction. They don’t care who lives or dies so long as the battle is won.”
My stomach flips so I nearly puke. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Peter gives a weary shrug. “Who would I tell? Anyone who is in a position to do anything is part of the strategy. Besides, who would listen to me?”
I chew the inside of my cheek. He sounds like Edwyn.
“But if you have friends on the enemy side,” Peter says, pushing on, “you can tell them not to fight. To stand down. Or at least…don’t hurt the kids. It’s not their fault. They don’t understand.”
I give a wry smile that trembles on my lips. “You talk like you’re not one of those kids.”
A whole head taller than me, Peter scowls. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“I would do it without the key.” I snatch it from Peter’s palm and pocket it before he can change his mind. “But this helps. Thank you. Sorry about your nose.”
He waves the apology away with a dismissive hand. “At least, if it comes to it, I can say I put up a fight.”
I smirk. “Even if it means admitting I beat you?”
“Don’t push it, Callie.”
I would never.
* * *
The palace looms up, as silent as though it’s been abandoned.
I’ve never seen it like this before. The courtyard is always busy, with nobles and knights on their way to the next important appointment; the front doors into the grand entrance are always open; the Great Hall always loud through the stained-glass windows.
It doesn’t feel like Helston, either in my dreams or in what I have come to experience. It feels like we’ve been gone so long that everything has changed; fallen apart and gone to seed. Or maybe we’ve just grown up.
Either way, I can’t wait to leave.
I let the dream wind its way through my blood and fuel me from the inside.
Just a few short hours and we’ll be flying away from here. All of us. Me and Willow and Papa and Neal, letting Helston disappear behind us. Together we can get Elowen and Edwyn away, and we can finally escape this ridiculous war. Let them fight it out if they must, but keep us out of it.
You cannot help people who will not help themselves.
Just a few short hours…
I shove all my desperate hope right into that rusted lock and it crumbles in my hands, easy as anything.
Down, down, down into the darkness. I don’t waste my magic on light. I’ve been here before; I can find my way again. My hand trails along the damp stone, helping me count corners as I sink into the underground labyrinth and fight to keep my courage.
Every nerve in my body sparks with the warning memory of the last time we were here.
I’m not afraid.
And if I am, it doesn’t matter.
It’s worth it, to find Neal.
I pass the cell that held the twins, and the room that Willow told me had once been his. Close by is Teo’s cell, where we locked Adan.
I wish no one had bothered looking for him.
I wish we had buried him.
“Neal? Are you here?”
I strain for any sound of life, no matter how small, trying not to think about worst-case possibilities. Trying not to fixate on them when they lodge in my head. Trying to breathe through the terror of the certainty that I’m here too late and Neal is already—
Breathing.
I hear breathing other than my own and hope is a flame in my heart.
I chase it, my fingertips scraping along the rough stone walls, skidding in puddles of who-knows-what that have been here who-knows-how-long.
“Neal?”
The breathing is loud and steady but no one answers my call.
I fly around the last corner and stop.
Curled in the farthest, darkest, dampest corner, with a thick chain shackling him to the wall, is a dragon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
It’s too dark to see anything but a shadowy shape, even as I creep closer.
But my heart knows.
Neal.
Adan wasn’t just throwing insults around when he kept referring to Neal as “dragon.”
He meant literal dragon.
Neal’s a…dragon.
I don’t understand….
But I don’t need to.
Not right now.
Neal is Neal, no matter what he looks like.
I crouch until my knees are wet and reach out a hand.
I’m surprised by how unafraid I am.
“It’s me. It’s Callie.”
His scales are warm and alive and soft to the touch.
His dragon eyes fly open and roll in alarm, his body thrashing against the chain, trying to escape beneath my fingers. Trying to escape me. His long tail whips through the air, nearly hitting me.
“Neal. Neal.” I say his name over and over, hoping it can bring him back to me. “It’s okay. It’s Callie. Neal, it’s Callie. I’m okay, just like you knew. I’ve come to help. I’ve come to rescue you. We’re gonna get out of here. You, me, and Papa. Just like it’s supposed to be. Look, I have the key. Let me free you.”
I keep talking, focusing on my tone instead of the words, trying to approach again, to soothe with touch; running my ripped-up palm along his smooth scales until he calms down.
One large eye focuses on me, the color of a summer sky during twilight.
“Callie.” His voice is his own, and I nearly cry with relief.
I wrap my arms around Neal’s long neck and cling, scales rough against my cheek just like his stubble right after he’s shaved. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
His neck curves around me like the safe circle of his hug. “They told us you were dead.”
“Humans lie.”
Way worse than dragons.
The key and lock are so heavy, I can hardly lift them together with just my two hands. But there’s no way I’m giving up. Not ever.
Neal shakes out his body when I finally haul the chains off him and hurl them in a pile with a satisfying clang; he stretches his neck and wings the same way I’ve watched him stretch out the crick in his shoulders every morning. He is smaller than Kensa and bigger than Teo, though in these cramped cells, everything feels enormous.
Why didn’t you tell me? I long to ask, but now isn’t the time.
Instead, I tell him, “Papa and Willow are in trouble.”
Neal dips his huge, horned head. “Then it is time to help them.”
The thought of a dragon rescuing the knight is poetry better than any ballad I’ve ever heard.
I have no idea how Neal’s huge form manages to squeeze through the narrow tunnels and back up the stairway, but there’s no point in questioning magic. And the same way cats are 90 percent fluid, dragons are 90 percent magic.
When we finally break out into the sunshine, Neal’s whole body shudders, huge wings stretching and quivering with relief.
I gape.
He is so beautiful. His scales are almost black until the light catches them and makes them shimmer with a pearly forest green. The undersides of his wings are bright, shimmering emerald, and two dark brown horns curl up out of his head, the same color as his eyes.
Eyes that I recognize as Neal’s.
“Are you angry with me, Callie?” he asks, his familiar voice coming from the dragon’s mouth.
I start to say No! Obviously not! but that’s not what we do. We tell each other the truth, even when the truth is hard.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “You didn’t tell me you’re a dragon. I’m hurt that you kept it from me, that you felt like you had to. But I’m not angry. Not at you.”
His long neck curves as he twists to look at himself. Even on his dragon face, I can read his miserable expression. “This isn’t me. I kept it from you because this isn’t how I wanted to be.”
