“Indeed,” Ryolas said, a bitter note in his voice. “Not that the title seems to be worth much these days. They’ve clapped me in iron chains—bad business for an elf, as you probablyknow.”
“Damn.” Alistair felt a pang of sympathy for the elven prince. “And your father has no issue withthis?”
Ryolas snorted. “He won’t even allow me to explain myself,” he said sadly. “I don’t know if you know theparticulars—”
“Tariana explained it to me,” Alistair said. “The two of you were staging the battles to avoidcasualties.”
There was silence for a long moment. “I’m not sure I’ll ever see her again,” Ryolas said in a hollow voice. “I would have liked to tell her I love her one lasttime.”
“As would I,” Alistair said morosely. He would have liked to kiss Dareena one more time too, but at least he’d held her in his arms and made love to her before he’d been dragged off. And she would have his brothers to comfort her if he didn’t make it out of here. But Tariana—he’d seen the fierce love in her eyes when she’d talked of Ryolas. She would be devastated if she losthim.
“You’re certain you’ll be executed?” Alistair asked. “Without even atrial?”
“I would have one if my father were in his right mind,” Ryolassaid.
“What do youmean?”
Ryolas hesitated. “My father isn’t mad the way yours is,” he said, “but he isn’t himself as of late. The High King of Elvenhame has never been one to sit back and let others take charge, and yet he has let Arolas take the reins. It is almost as if my dear brother has already become the new king. He’s got me in the dungeons awaiting the gallows, he’s marrying Basilla off to that nasty warlock prince…. Soon, there will be no family left to challenge hisdecisions.”
“Yes, the king seemed remarkably passive,” Alistair said. “Do you think the warlocks could be involvedsomehow?”
“If they are, there is nothing we can do about it from here,” Ryolas said grimly. “I knew it was a bad idea for us to ally with the warlocks, but Father insisted—he was a child during the War of the Three Kingdoms and remembers the dragons’ treachery all too well. Back then, the dragons really were the enemy. But now, I am not certain our sights are fixed on the rightenemy.”
“Neither am I,” Alistair said. He wondered if Lucyan was tugging on this particular thread, which Dareena had uncovered the day she’d found that dragon scroll in the library. Their middle brother knew more about the warlocks than anyone else; if anybody could find the true culprit behind this mess, it washim.
Whether or not Alistair lived to see such a day remained to beseen.
21
After Lucyanand Tariana went their separate ways, he managed to convince the tinkerer to hasten their pace toward the capital. They arrived at Enethar just as the sun was setting over the beautiful city, setting the elegant, spiraling buildings aflame with gold and red. Relief washed over Lucyan as they entered the town—tonight, he would finally be able to do some reconnaissance, and find out how his mate and brother fared behind the walls of CastleWhitestone.
Lucyan and the tinkerer made their way to an inn a few blocks from the castle. The city hummed with life and activity, an air of peace and harmony that Paxhall lacked. Lucyan spied no pickpockets or thugs skulking in dark alleys, no homeless people panhandling in the streets—everything was clean and shiny, everyone was courteous, smiling and nodding as they passed, many of them coming up to the wagon and buyingitems.
If Lucyan didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have thought this was a country atwar.
“Ahh, here we are,” the tinkerer said as they stopped in front of a green and white two-story building. Warm, inviting light spilled out of the windows, and the heavenly smell of freshly baked meat pies lured them closer. “The Whistling Willow. My favorite place to stay inEnethar.”
They booked two rooms and ate some of those delicious meat pies, washed down with honey mead. The tinkerer retired to his room afterward, and while Lucyan, full and sleepy, was tempted to do the same, he instead pulled his cloak around his shoulders and walked out into the rapidly darkeningnight.
Castle Whitestone was perched atop a hill overlooking the entire city. It towered above Lucyan as he traversed the winding streets, approaching the castle from the west, studying the exterior with his keen eyes for any weaknesses. He counted twenty guards manning the battlements, and that was only what he could see from his angle. The walls were thick and high, and as he drew closer, he saw an additional four men stationed at the frontgate.
“Excuse me,” he said, flagging down a passing woman. “I grew up in Idlegrove, and this is my first trip to the capital. Are tourists allowed inside thecastle?”
“Sometimes, if you can get an official to vouch for you,” the woman said. Her gaze darted to the castle towers, and Lucyan wondered at the troubled look on her lined face. “But these days it is nigh impossible. No one who is not an elf is allowed past the gates. Even the human servants who work in the castle are no longer allowed to come and go freely—they are forced to stay in the servants’ quarters and are only permitted to visit with their families at thegate.”
“That’s too bad.” Lucyan frowned up at the castle. He should have thought to ask Shadley for an elven disguise—as a human, there was no way for him to sneak through the gate, and in his natural form, the elves would put an arrow through his heart the second they spottedhim.
If only I could shift,Lucyan thought morosely. But then again, would that really do any good? He remembered how Tariana had been gravely injured when she’d tried to rescue Ryolas from that fort—the magic that had forced her back into human form was very likely in effect at the castle,too.
Still, being able to shift might be handy when they made their escape. Alistair would likely be very weak from being exposed to all that anti-dragon magic. Lucyan would have to carry him and Dareena too. The fevers preceding the change had already come and gone. Did Lucyan have the power to change into a dragon as Drystan had done back in the throneroom?
Turning away from the castle, which he could do nothing about, he gazed out at the rolling hills, which were almost completely invisible to his eye now that the sun had set.They would be a good place to practice,Lucyan thought as he trotted down the hillside. He hailed a small wooden carriage, big enough to fit no more than two, and paid the young elf driver to take him to the outskirts of the capital. From there, he hiked a good two miles away, until he was well into the hills, certain no one could see or hearhim.
“All right, Lucyan,” he muttered to himself as he sat atop the hill. He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together, mentally preparing himself. “You can do this. Change into adragon.”
Closing his eyes, Lucyan did what he had often done as a child—he clenched his hands tight at his sides andwilledhimself to change as hard as he could. Every muscle in his body strained as he mentally grasped for whatever thatsomethingwas that would help him morph from his puny—if handsome and well-muscled—human form into the glorious, fire-breathing, winged beast that his people worshipped andfeared.
Unfortunately, all Lucyan got for his valiant efforts was a tension headache. “Blast it,” he growled, opening his eyes. He yanked a fistful of grass from the hill and tossed it, only for the wind to blow it straight back at him. “It would have been nice to get some instructions!” he yelled to the dragon god as he wiped dirt and grass from hisface.
