She stared, thunderstruck, as a flight of dragons broke from the waters below, a starburst of behemoths rising up to meet her. Another earsplitting roar, then a fifth and sixth joined the chorus, and Alizeh set aside all thought of relenting to the skies. Death by water was one thing, but she was determined she would not be eaten alive by dragons.
It was fresh terror that inspired her to summon the lingering strength she possessed; and through nothing short ofa miracle she managed to flip herself into a position reminiscent of an exclamation, her head pointing to the water. She hoped to descend more rapidly this way, to escape the dragons and, with any luck, break the surface with less brutality—but she’d hardly a moment to celebrate her success before one of the shimmering creatures swooped toward her with a terrifying screech, its enormous mouth yawning open upon approach.
It was no use.
Alizeh screamed, pulling her knees up and cradling herself like a child, as if the cold comfort of her own arms would make any difference. The dragon snapped her up into its jaws with a violent jerk, and in the second Alizeh expected to be devoured, the animal only soared upward with astonishing speed, the sudden motion throwing her back against its teeth, which pierced her skin with a violence that tore the breath from her body. Alizeh felt the excruciating burn of the injuries, the telltale moisture of her clear blood oozing, and grew suddenly light-headed. The whiplash of descension and ascension had wrought havoc upon her mind.
Through layers of distorted awareness, Alizeh grew cognizant of her own confusion; she didn’t understand why she was not yet dead. She felt the graze of a fresh breeze against her skin, so different from the humid mouth of an animal, and was abruptly released; her body rolled to a gentle stop onto damp ground, her fingers catching blades of grass.
Alizeh groaned.
With a whopping flap of its enormous wings, the dragontook off into the sky, releasing a screech as pain lanced viciously through her body. For a worrying moment, Alizeh thought she might throw up.
It was with great bitterness that she realized she’d just experienced Cyrus’s idea of a joke.
She wondered why she didn’t hear him then, why the degenerate did not show himself, applaud himself for a job well done. She wondered, as she forced herself up, nearly biting through her tongue to keep from crying out, what Sarra would think of this performance of her son’s affection.
Alizeh prepared herself to ask, swinging around tipsily for a glimpse of her captors—when she realized she was alone.
The dragon had deposited her somewhere new.
Alizeh stood at the open mouth of a monumental structure, a series of stone archways closing around her like a set of ribs, the gaps between them lashed by golden rays. The soft grass underfoot was dense and springy; tiny orange flowers bloomed against her toes. Birds tittered, fluttering between arches as they sang, their colorful plumage glittering in the morning glow. A gentle wind pillowed her weary face, the gust at once strong and soft enough that she let herself rest against it, just until it pulled away, coaxing her to look right, where she was presented with a sight so breathtaking she went slack, almost forgetting about her injuries.
The stupendous waterfalls appeared both smaller and calmer from this vantage point, the stone columns providing a frame through which the magnificence of the scene was presented in all its glory. Alizeh had collected enough visual information by then to deduce she’d been depositedsomewhere high up in the castle, and she couldn’t help but wonder whether this secluded, heavenly garden was meant to be hers.
Surely Cyrus had meant to toss her in a dungeon instead?
As she followed the path, she came upon a small table and chairs, the three of which were positioned just so under a specific trio of arches, where flowering vines had snaked up the stone, braiding natural shade across the tops. The decadent fragrance of the blooms scented the air so completely Alizeh felt compelled to stop; for a long moment she closed her eyes, inhaling the perfume as a flurry of air caressed her cheeks, stung her wounds, curled her hair.
When she opened her eyes she spotted a set of doors in the distance. Alizeh approached these cautiously, the grass underfoot disappearing under a series of silky, patterned rugs, their vivid colors standing out in stark contrast to the green path.
Inside, Alizeh discovered an oasis.
A soaring, domed ceiling crowned the central room, marble tiles arranged in geometric patterns along the floors, over which ran yards of lush red rugs that spanned the room. Massive windows had been thrown open to let in the light, the welcome breeze ruffling the sheets of an enormous bed that sat, silky and decadent, in the center of everything, quilts folded down in invitation. Alizeh walked through it all as if in a daze.
Was this meant to be hers?
If this was meant to be hers, she thought she could understand why someone might make a deal with the devil. Forthe space of a single moment, something like this might seem worthwhile.
But then, there was more.
There were more rooms beyond this one: an opulent sitting room; separate rooms for the bath and toilet; a small courtyard with a dining table—
It was only as Alizeh wound her way through these spaces that she realized she’d been delivered here in reverse. The entrance to this wing was not through the bedroom; it was in fact just ahead of her. An imposing wooden door seemed to wink at her from where it stood, daring her to open it.
She would not.
Not yet.
She stole into the bathroom instead, locating a stock of bed linens in a cabinet and quickly tearing a sheet into strips. Half of these she used to mop and stanch the blood of her wounds, the remainder she repurposed as bandages, wrapping them neatly around her injuries. With a heavy sigh, she slumped against the wall. All she desired in the world at the moment was to take a warm bath, swaddle herself in clean clothes, and sleep for an eternity.
The first two seemed impossible in her current state; she didn’t think she’d survive the time it would take to draw a bath, and neither did she know where to find a change of clothes. But if she could only make her way back to the bed, she might yet accomplish the third.
She peered through the wrong doorway in her search, discovering inside a luxurious dressing room, which, as curiosity coaxed her forward, she found to be fully stocked withgarments so fine she was afraid to touch them. She only dared graze the articles with the tips of her fingers, the sight of such superb textiles sparking to life a slumbering part of her brain; Alizeh suddenly itched for her sewing supplies. Without thinking she patted herself down, reaching for pockets that did not exist, looking about herself for a luggage she no longer owned.
With a terrible fright, Alizeh froze.
Comprehension dawned by aching degrees, dread flooding her body as memories filled her head, the chaos of the last twelve hours trying desperately to sort itself into chronological order.
