Page 17 of To Sway a Prince
"I-I'm fine." I hugged myself. "I just haven't figured out how to fix the binding spell yet." An odd thought occurred to me. Ramiel had said Zephyrus wouldn't want to stay with his family because of his bond to me. What if he'd been waiting for me?
Swallowing the knot of emotion in my throat, I stood. "It's all right. I really am fine. If—if you want to be with them, it's all right. I want you to be where you want to be."
He glanced between me and then the nearest of the dragon snuggle piles four cells in. The low growl that rumbled in his chest sounded like a question.
I nodded, hugging myself tighter. "Yeah. I'm sure. Go on."
I wasn't even sure how I knew it was possible for him to reach them, but the thought crystalized in my mind. He cut his amber eyes at me once more and then strode back deeper into his cell through that dark space. Within moments, he emerged in the cell farther down. The purple and dark-green dragons lifted their heads sleepily. The grey-blue one nuzzled his neck and nibbled at the scales as he flopped down. Zephyrus's gaze remained fixed on me as if to ensure I was telling him the truth.
I forced a smile and nodded. Ramiel was right. I felt it in my gut. Thread rot. "I'm going to go get some rest in a safe place," I said softly. "It's a little too exposed here."
The grunt that followed made it clear he understood.
Slipping out of the stable, I made my way up the stairs. My thoughts drifted to all the possibilities and what I should do. I wanted Zephyrus safe. But if he was supposed to be here, how could I manage that?
I halted, realizing my hand was on the door handle and I had already pushed it open into a hall. In all the pulseporting, I hadn't been here yet. The air thrummed, a distinct but intense magic pulsing through the air. I frowned as I listened.
This wasn't the floor with the guest rooms. Then again, I wasn't going to sleep in his guest room either. Something about that felt too—intimate. It'd been years since I'd slept in a bed anyway. No sense starting now. I pulled back a step and looked at the marking on the central panel of the door.
There was nothing really unusual about it. It bore a similar crest to all the rest on this floor: three swords emerging from the mist. Each sword had a runic inscription on it, charges for steadfastness, courage, and honor. Interestingly enough, eachcarried the statement "to death, through death, and beyond death."
Yes. Death walked these halls. I wouldn't let it claim my best friend, but now I had to figure out how to protect him and let him be with his family.
That tugging sensation intensified. In fact, I wanted to go to a specific room. Maybe there was an answer up here. The air vibrated softly, no other source of sound in the long, dark, gently curving hall. My eyes adjusted easily to the dim light, but there was something even softer in this place. It was…comforting.
The only wards and sigils I saw were the standard ones for restoration and protection. They appeared in combinations that suggested this was a beloved place. Perhaps a hall of memories or remembering? Our palace had had both, but I couldn't remember the distinction any more.
One door seemed to call to me. The fifth one in. A marking for sand centered on this one, the etching so delicate it could almost be missed. There were other symbols that I couldn't fully translate, but I knew enough of the base to see that there was no threat here. I pressed the door open and peered inside. My mouth fell open.
8
THE WALL
Ihad never seen a room like this in my life and yet some part of it felt familiar. Something in this place called to me like the distant memory of a comforting dream, just out of reach. The ceiling within arched up like a cathedral, the eight pillars that provided support along the walls connecting in an interconnected design that was impossible to carve without magic.
This was some sort of sanctuary. Two walls were nothing but shelves, one mostly filled with large elegant jars of sand. The other held the same vessels but a far smaller number, and these were all empty. A soft glow came from the ceiling though there was no particular source, and the air itself shimmered with energy and magic. I drew in a long breath, analyzing the layered scents. It was almost too much. Rich colognes, fragrant perfumes. When I focused, I could pick out some specifics: smoked myrrh, crushed starblooms, oiled leather, charred pine, jasmine nectar, and so much more.
My eyelids slid shut. Across my mind's eye played a whole ballroom of couples waltzing and mingling. A rune fae ball, so runes glimmered in the air, shimmering and changing colors with the music and the mood. Obsidian chimes hung atintervals, floating amid the runes. And the orchestra played all manner of traditional instruments including rune string harps, shatterdrums, and violins. All I could think for music though was a lullaby.
When I opened my eyes, I saw the sand-filled jars once more. Beautiful. Sacred. They were filled almost to the brim with swirls of two colors. Except for one near the bottom. It was just blue.
I picked it up to study it. It looked as if it had been made of something similar to sapphires and lapis lazuli. Despite the beauty of the shades of blue, it somehow felt plain and small next to the rest. Only half full.
The wall next to it held a crystal geode that reminded me of an amethyst cathedral, easily twice as tall as me. It hummed and vibrated softly, its voice soothing but easy to miss.
The other wall was filled with dozens of elegant glass vials, each one tall, flawless, and empty. One had been set apart. Something had been etched into the side of one glass jar set apart from the rest: Natoumai ahme vahre. I frowned a little, uncertain what that meant. It wasn't a language I recognized. That pang of curiosity twisted deeper. Thistledown was a day's flight from here, and they'd probably know what this said. But I didn't have time for that now.
My goal was to rescue Zephyrus. Of course, if I really wanted to agitate Ramiel, I could always mix the sands together.
Some part of me recoiled immediately at that thought. Unlike all the other things I had done, this could not be undone. And there was something…sacred about this place. Maybe I'd done that with my father's hourglass and the sandkeeper, but it wasn't appropriate here. I held the jar a little closer as I contemplated my situation. It really wasn't as simple as I had initially thought. It was almost nice to remember my family though. Something about Ramiel made me think of them. Maybe because he was rune fae too.
Family.
Polph. I couldn't do any of this anymore. Was I going to have to let him go?
Guilt and unease tightened my shoulders and gripped my heart. Maybe Ramiel was innocent in this. Or at least not the monstrous thief I'd thought him. I frowned. Some parts still didn't add up. But that didn't mean Ramiel was evil.
I couldn't even deny that protecting the Chasm was good. It had to be done, didn't it? In my years of travel, I'd never actually visited the Chasm, but I'd heard loosely of its dangers and the general belief in the Sentinels and the value of their work. Not that I'd expected it to be a single fae in a tower with a dozen dragons. It seemed…disproportionate. And this tower was clearly intended for many more. Prince of the Sentinels now seemed more like a mocking title than a real one.
