He wants to leave.
But he must make a wrong turn next, because the passages around him are unfamiliar. Fewer people, emptier rooms. All the black onyx walls look the same, and every gargoyle is different yet indistinguishable in Bellamy’s distress.
Fresh air beckons around the next corner. Bellamy searches for active magic, finds none, and follows the breeze to a small garden room.
Caught between light and shadow, the garden is brightly lit with golden torches and dancing fireflies, while its far wall is completely open. Only a wrought-iron railing separates it from the dark sweep of the canyon beyond.
The flowers are potted, fragrant and out of season. A minor plant mage’s work or from a greenhouse. Besides the plants and fireflies, the room is empty. A gentle breeze tickles the leaves and petals.
As Bellamy passes among the plants, they respond to his presence. He doesn’t expend much energy, just feeding them a bit of strengthening power to strengthen. He wishes he could do the same for people sometimes, but the Sandry family only heals plants.
Healing humans is the other side of the blood magic he just witnessed.
Mind completely blank, Bellamy leans against the railing. The Nostic canyon is home to a river far below, too far for Bellamy to hear. Too far down for the stars to reach. The opposite wall of the canyon is distant too. Every once in a while, great shapes move in the darkness, flickering with some magic peculiar to dragons.
Bellamy’s face itches beneath the white mask. He’s about to take it off to rub his nose when he hears footsteps behind him.
When Bellamy looks over his shoulder, his stomach turns to ice. The two pale-haired men from the main chamber enter the garden—and this close, Bellamy recognizes the first.
The man wears a steel-dark mask inlaid with glittering amethyst. His long hair hangs loose, and despite the labyrinth’s warmth, his dark coat buttons all the way up to his chin. More jewels glitter in spiral patterns along his sleeves. Expensive. Eye-catching. But it’s his effortless posture that reminds Bellamy of a man he’s only met once before, when they were both much younger.
Vana Dire, first prince of Draskora.
The taller man behind the prince is almost an afterthought. A shadow. A faint, blood-red bond stretches between him and his prince. He waits at the doorway while Vana joins Bellamy at the railing.
Bellamy turns back to the canyon. His mouth is dry, and he has no idea what to say.
“Disturbing, isn’t it?” Vana says after a moment.
“The duel?” Bellamy’s surprised when Vana nods. “Everyone else seems used to it.”
Vana manages to make his shrug look elegant. “I’m not from Draskora originally.”
Bellamy thought Kaiskara was part of Draskora, but saying so would reveal that he recognizes Vana. Which Bellamy definitely doesn’t want. Except, maybe it’s weird and suspicious if hedoesn’trecognize Vana. He probably should have bowed and said “Your Highness” or something when Vana walked in.
Too late now. “You’re not?” Bellamy asks instead. “Your eyes, though…”
Vana’s eyes are as violet as Rakos’s.
“Even so.” Vana pushes his hair behind his ear and leans against the railing next to Bellamy. For a moment, the two princes simply stand next to each other. Then Vana says, “Perhaps you can help me. I’m looking for a man named Rakos Tem.”
Bellamy’s knuckles whiten on the railing.
“Rakos Tem?” Bellamy’s eyes remain fixed on the canyon, avoiding Vana. “I don’t think I know him. Who is he?”
“A friend of mine,” Vana says. “Better known as the Shadow of Draskora. He recently deserted from the dragon corps.”
Heart in his throat, Bellamy tries to remember everything Rakos has ever told him.
Rakos claimed Vana was after him for tax evasion and insulting Vana’s parentage, which Bellamy believed readily enough at the time. He was so busy panicking about being stranded in Draskora, he didn’t have the energy for suspicion. But no matter how common a name Rakos is, what are the odds that two men named Rakos have inspired Prince Vana’s ire at once? One a tax-dodging farmer, the other a traitorous dragonrider?
No. Absolutely not. Bellamy can’t believe this. His Rakos is afarmer. Bellamyslept with him.Rakos can’t be the dragonrider everyone’s looking for. The Shadow of Draskora. The greatest threat Audric faced at the border.
“I don’t think I know him,” Bellamy repeats. The next question hurts to ask. “But in case I happen to meet him, what does he look like?”
Vana’s voice lilts in a bitter laugh. “Half-Fellrian, long blue hair, and an utter dearth of common sense. He’s always the loudest man in the room.”
The yearning flowers. The fireflies. The canyon’s abyss. Everything feels very distant. “No,” Bellamy says eventually. “I haven’t seen him.”
