Page 2 of To Sway a Prince
Maybe he lived somewhere else. People said that the Chasm was a rift that led to places between the worlds. Maybe he had another home somewhere else.
A chill pulsed through me. What if he had taken Zephyrus with him?
Swallowing hard, I shook my head. No, no, Zephyrus was here. I knew it. And I'd never been wrong about where Zephyrus was.
I slipped up to the wall and continued forward, gold blade tight in my right hand as I pressed my aura out in search of any kind of threat.
There. Not a threat. A staircase. It was behind a thick hickory door. The stairs curved down into darkness. My eyes adjusted swiftly, moving between the moonlit night to the close darkness of the stairwell. Steps silent, I made my way down deeper and deeper, counting each step as I went, nerves tense and aware. Thirty-nine, forty—there!
I lifted my head, breathing in deeper. Yes, there! I caught that familiar earthy, fiery scent: Zephyrus!
Willing myself to remain cautious, I continued down, ever downward. The air thickened. The sentinel's magic bit into my senses as well, proof that he had been here as well and recently. It wasn't as ancient as some of the wards, but the undercurrent was the same. He was blood to whoever had cast the originals. He was also colder, angrier, and bitter if I read the remnants of his magic properly. I hoped he was somewhere in the Chasm.
The warmth intensified as I went lower. Deep grunts and low growls as well as heavy thumps punctuated the silence. Something stirred down here, and while Zephyrus's scent grew stronger, other scents took over. This staircase was large enough for him to come down, and there wasn't evidence of a struggle. Perhaps Ramiel had used an enchantment to keep Zephyrus compliant.
Then I reached the bottom. A door halted my progress, but already I caught new smells. A charred scent with undertones of smoke, leather, and sweet hay filled my nostrils, and a sharp mineral-rich flavor stung my tongue. Several dragons were down here. Those low rumbles suggested snores.
Pressing my hand to the door, I eased it open and peaked inside. A massive chamber—perhaps a dungeon—spread out before me, lined with what looked like iron-barred cells. My heart clenched, my fingers curling into fists as I searched for any sign of danger. I'd found the dragons, all right. But…what was going on here?
The bars were spaced wide enough for a dragon's head to slip through. Thick cushions of straw and scraps of fur and fabric spilled across stone floors. No signs of waste or neglect either. Each cell contained a large feeding trough. A few had dragged out the bones of their most recent meal, leaving bloodycarcasses. Nothing rotted either. All fresh and bloody as if they had just been fed hours ago.
A deep blue-green dragon's tail curled out between the bars of one cell, flicking in sleep like a cat's. Another cell held a pearly-blue scaled beast whose snores echoed off the stone especially loud and made the water in its trough vibrate. I counted at least six dragons, all more peaceful than any I'd seen elsewhere. And there was still more to the stable.
I couldn't quite place what magic had accomplished this. Dragons were wary creatures. Even in family packs, at least one always remained on guard. But all slept here. That either meant they had been enchanted or another protector watched over them. Someone they trusted as much as blood. The latter seemed far more likely.
Zephyrus wouldn't be sleeping, of course. Based on his size and the patterns of his scales, he was older than some of the nations we traveled through, and you didn't get to be as big and powerful as him without being constantly on guard. Each night when I tucked in beside him, he slept with one eye half open.
Pursing my lips, I whistled a couple low bars. It was a mimic of the throaty call he made when looking for me. But no answer came back. The dragons continued to snore. Stepping farther in, I whistled once more.
Only snores and grunts greeted me.
Hand still gripping my blade, I continued into the dungeon. Still no sign of guards or attendants or anyone. No wards here either. Only the same runes and sigils, providing encouragement for health, strength, and stability. If there was anything else here, the caster had been especially good at masking them.
I took a few paces farther in. My heart leaped. There he was!
Zephyrus lay curled in one of the larger cells near the back, his dark-blue scales catching the torchlight. His massive head rested on his forelegs, eyes closed. Steam rose from his slantednostrils. Not a mark or scratch marred his hide. No chains bound him. No signs of struggle or resistance scarred the stones around him.
Relief flooded through me at seeing him unharmed, but alarm quickly followed. Why was he here, sleeping so contentedly? Why hadn't he tried to escape? The Zephyrus I knew would never willingly stay caged, no matter how comfortable. He had to be drugged or enchanted. Or both.
A low rumble vibrated through the chamber as one of the other dragons shifted in its sleep. I needed to wake Zephyrus and get him out of here before anyone realized I'd broken in. But first I had to figure out what kind of enchantment held him so docile. I couldn't catch anything specific about it. Even as I reached out with my aura, nothing changed. Would he even recognize me?
I whistled once more, a little louder this time.
Zephyrus grunted, a stronger blast of steam searing from his nostrils as his pointed ears twitched. His horned eyelids fluttering open. His amber eyes were calm. A low purr rumbled through his chest as he cocked his head. With a deeper, lower growl, he stretched out like a cat, his claws scraping over the stone.
"What's going on?" I whispered, moving closer to the bars. He had only been this relaxed once or twice in the past, and that was when we were in the abandoned dragon tower or with two other riders.
He stretched his neck forward, nudging his snout at the gap. If he wanted, he could put his whole head through. He purred louder.
Tentatively, I placed my palm against his jaw. No signs of injury or distress marked his hide. His eyes were clear and alert, showing no signs of enchantment. No commands had been bound into his scales either.
Knots take me, I didn't like this. I was missing something. Part of me half expected to see Ramiel staring at me from the darkness, eyes glowing, magical energy pulsing.
I scanned the chamber again, more thoroughly this time. The torches burned steadily, no flickering that might hide motion-triggered wards or proximity sigils. The floor showed no trace of spell circles or runes. Even the ceiling, often a favorite place for trap-makers to hide their work, held nothing but smooth stone and iron brackets for the braziers. Some sort of mechanism suggested that the ceiling could be opened at the center of the dungeon.
Zephyrus bumped my shoulder with his snout, nearly knocking me over. His tail swished back and forth across the straw-covered floor of his cell—a gesture I knew well. He was...happy? Content even?
"I don't understand." I ran my fingers along his thick neck and then over onto the bars. Still nothing. Only iron. "You could break these easily. Why are you still here? You wouldn't abandon me, would you, Zephyrus?"
