Tonight, the gardens couldn’t hold her interest, and Tate found herself studying the palace. In particular, the part of the palace where the fire had originated. At some point after her departure, the emperor’s people had managed to put it out. A thick haze of smoke still obscured the stars in the night sky.
Fires were unruly things to get under control. It was surprising they’d managed so quickly, making Tate wonder whether they’d had an artifact or a dragon’s help. Either would explain the quick reaction.
The wing that had seen the most damage from the fire was looking worse for wear. There were gaping holes where the flames had managed to eat through the stone. Half of one of the exterior walls looked semi-melted, the stone twisted and puddled on the ground outside to create a flat surface.
Being made from black stone, it was impossible to see how damaged the walls were around the melted parts. Tate suspected it’d be difficult to tell what had suffered scorch marks and what had weathered the blaze even with the advantage of daylight.
They left the gardens and palace behind, approaching the cliff in the distance. In the dark, it felt like strolling up to the end of the world, only the crash of the waves far below contradicting the illusion.
Why had they brought her out here? As far as she knew, there wasn’t anything but cliffs and sea. Somehow, she didn’t think the emperor summoned her for a midnight stroll.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a hint on what I’m walking into?”
Ben sent her a cryptic glance. “Not really.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Ben and George turned left, traveling along the edge of the cliff until they were as far from the palace as possible without falling to your death or flying.
A pair of pillars with stone dragon heads mounted on top sat to either side of an incongruous set of stairs. From far away, those stairs seemed to simply drop off the edge of the cliff. It wasn’t until Tate was closer that she saw that the stairs were cut deep into the stone, creating a channel that led all the way to the ocean below.
“I almost forgot about these,” she said softly.
The fourth and final method to reach the Upper from the Lower. It was a route that wouldn’t occur to most due to the strenuous undertaking required. Even the Hill was preferable to climbing a thousand steps straight up with the ocean breeze a constant irritant as it tried to pluck you off.
More importantly, the stairs could only be seen from the ocean. Not the rest of the city. Out of sight; out of mind.
George and Ben’s footsteps echoed on the stone as they began their descent, slipping past the dragon head pillars without a word. Tate followed, noting the guards standing on either side of the staircase, nearly invisible in the shadows of the pillars.
A peculiar energy brushed against Tate’s senses, growing stronger with every step she descended. At first no more than the hint of a breeze, it burgeoned into gentle waves that buffeted her mentally and emotionally.
Ilith woke, pressing down on Tate’s conscience to peer through her eyes.
“Do you know what this is?” Tate ignored George’s startled glance as she concentrated on her dragon. Ilith was unsettled, something about the energy throwing her off balance.
Ilith?
Her dragon’s response was terse.I need to think.
Tate frowned. That didn’t sound promising.Are we in danger?
I don’t know.
It was the first time Ilith had sounded so uncertain. The answer did nothing for Tate’s peace of mind.
Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it unless she wanted to shift to the dragon and hide until the Aurelian empire fell into dust.
In need of a distraction and bored with the silence, Tate looked at George. “Dragon slayer, right? How many dragons did you have to slay to get that title? Did you always know you wanted to be a dragon slayer?”
Had George dreamed of it as a young girl? Being the person to kill the most powerful creature in Aurelia?
George stumbled on the stairs. Ben turned toward the cliff, hiding his face as his shoulders shook.
George stared at her for several silent seconds. “What made you ask me this?”
Tate lifted a shoulder. “No reason.”
How could she tell the woman it was because she was bored? Judging from George’s reaction, the question hit at a sore point. If George knew Tate asked out of idle curiosity, she was very much afraid the slayer might slay her.
