Page 1 of To Sway a Prince
1
RESCUING A DRAGON
Wasn't breaking into the Sentinel's tower supposed to be hard?
I shoved my hand into a crevice in the dark stone and hauled myself higher. The crisp night air caressed my face and tugged at my dark hood and cloak.
Rumors abounded that the Sentinels were weakening in power, the Chasm nearing implosion. But then some said that the sorcerer prince who lived in this tower was a cursed fiend with the heart of an ice spirit, a spoiled child who thought being the prince of the Sentinels was enough to allow him to get him whatever he wanted. I mean, in fairness, that last part was me and the people in the village of Irca agreeing with me after I learned who took my dragon. But they didn't disagree. And he certainly didn't seem to be loved. Most barely knew anything about him and his Sentinels, except that they were to be avoided and protecting the Chasm, though exceptionally dangerous, was crucial.
I pressed my body tighter against the cool stone. The winds picked up, fragrant with the sweet pleasant scents of lavender and moon fruit. The tower itself smelled of damp stone and runic magic, a cold scent like an oncoming storm. Ancient wardsprotected the perimeter, and this tower hummed and pulsed softly, vibrating deep into my marrow.
For anyone who didn't know magic, these glimmering wards might be enough to make them draw back. A pale-blue one spiderwebbed across the stone above me. Clear, well-constructed, and…easy to dismantle. Almost insultingly so. I'd always been a good knotweaver, especially when it came to undoing the central threads and spiraling away the strength of a well-formed ward or sigil. Few things other than Zephyrus brought me as much joy as seeing a vibrant bond slip out of that first knot, then the second, then the three all the way to the end.
But these—these were insultingly easy, and that didn't sit right with me. Ramiel or his minions had slipped into camp while I slept and stolen Zephyrus without waking me. I'd recognized the tang of magic on my tongue when I woke, a sweet but dark flavor like persimmons and plums. Whoever had done it had been sophisticated and skilled enough not to trip any of the guards I set up. Not even my aura had stirred as I slept. And that meant tremendous power.
So why these fluffy little nothing wards?
This one pulsed above my head like a ripe moon fruit, its natural light mirroring that of the moon above. Tendrils of mist curled around my boots as I reached higher. Hmmm, interesting. This ward was newer, the energy fresher. I didn't even need my blade to direct my focus. The tendrils came through, and those central threads came undone as easily as if they wanted to come apart.
Was it possible that because the Sentinels were neutrals they were prohibited from having certain kinds of guarding magic?
That didn't add up.
Shaking my head, I adjusted my grip and continued upward.
Even if this was a trap, I'd figure it out. If I got in too much of a jam, I'd pulseport back to the willow by the river whereI'd left my few belongings, regroup, and return. But if all went well, I'd be riding Zephyrus out of here. He'd been my faithful companion and dearest friend since I was a girl. So many years together, and that giant scaly beast had never abandoned me once. I wasn't going to leave him in this forsaken tower on the edge of the Chasm.
I moved a little higher and tackled the next one. This too fell apart as easily as it if were simple string, the strands of energy vanishing as soon as that central thread pulled free.
My fingers twitched as I adjusted my grip on the stone.
Just a bit higher.
The broad stone ledge of the open window jutted out above me less than fifteen feet away. I made my way up. My fingers ached, and my calves cramped, my boots gripping and pressing against the stone in an awkward position. An easy enough climb, all things considered, and my unease grew with each moment.
Up, up, up I climbed. Two more wards suggested I depart, and I insisted they vanish, their knots giving way to my focus within seconds.
At last I reached the broad ledge of the windowsill. Another thicker ward hummed over the window space, angry and alive. It pulsed with its own life. I clicked my tongue at it and channeled my focus through my eyes and index finger, tracing the strands. My energy hiccupped at the knot point, curling around and struggling with three of the strands. I pressed harder against the stone with my left hand and reached for the pale gold blade fastened on my right.
Finally, a ward that was more of a challenge.
I scrunched my nose as I lifted the blade as if it were a wand. It might as well have been. It accomplished the same thing and was even halfway decent at stabbing people. For now though, I simply summoned my energy up and focused it at the point. It hummed through my veins and then shot out, almost invisible.The air wavered around its path, and the ward flickered. Two of the three strands came undone. Then the third. The caster's essence flared through it, sharp and cold with an undercurrent like white moonstone, frosted silver, and glacial petrichor.
My lips curved. Ramiel, probably. Whoever it was, he liked his spells with bite. It had a depth about it, similar to the dark sweet aftertaste of magic left in my mouth after the abduction. With skills like that, he could obviously have done something far worse. So…why make it so light?
My energy rippled along the blade. Though the central thread resisted at first, my aura pressed against it and forced it to reveal itself. A darker purple and blue against gold light. Runes flared against the stone behind the ward, but instead of activating something more sinister, the threads came undone. For a moment, the intricate pattern hung in the air like frost, then it vanished.
Knots take me, what was I missing?
I seized the stone ledge and swung myself up. The dark-blue wooden shutters had been pressed back quite some time ago if the faded paint and the cobwebs and bits of leaves clinging to them were any indication.
A stronger gust of wind surged around me as if to shove me inside. My golden hair snagged on the faded paint. Hissing, I caught hold of the errant strands. How annoying. Carefully, I tucked my hair back beneath my dark-blue hood and surveyed my surroundings.
I could see most of the chamber fairly well from this crouched position. The stone ledge opened into a room large enough for a dragon to fly out of. It was rather bare, just a simple wooden plank floor and dressed stone walls. Functional like a barracks. A single table occupied the space to my left. An ebony inkpot and a glass case with a quill as well as a simple paper box suggested this was an observation point of sorts. Upon closerinvestigation, I noted that talon marks scourged the wood at multiple points and some of the stone had been chipped a little. Probably just from landing or easing inside. If there had been an actual fight here, it would have been far worse.
Oddly enough though, there were no traps up here. Not even any wards. The only sigils present were a few that merged with runes in the walls, and those were all focused on health, strength, and rhythm. Ancient, yes. Like prayer stones that remind you to pray and give thanks.
I eased myself down and took it all in. The moon through the window cast eerie shadows across the tower floor. Though my ears strained, all I caught was the distant call of a dark blade owl, plaintive and lonesome. A floorboard started to shift under my boot, but I drew back at once. All the rest were far more secure, allowing me to remain silent. No wards here at all. Curious. Not even a sign of this prince.
