A Shade of Dragon 2(24)

“But it’s totally locked,” Michelle finished. “Theon? Are you even listening?”

“Yes,” I assured her, shaking my head. “You found the fire rose door. It was hidden behind a thicket of fire roses for all of my life, in fact. I myself have never seen that door.”

“Well, it was pretty awesome. But again, it is locked.”

What if that door, viewed for the first time by this woman, Michelle—the very door planted after the last war, as a symbol of our enduring right to the castle and natural victory over the ice people—is a sign?

Is Michelle the natural choice for queen, given future victory?

The thought left my throat raw. It was just too soon to consider that. To consider anything. I’d never opened up my heart to a woman as I had to Nell. I’d never chosen someone… and to be betrayed by the very one I chose? What did that mean?

There was only one way to find out.

The skeleton key.

A thoughtful key, Pythia had informed me. You may unlock any door which the key deems fit. This key was forged by the hands of fate, as was I.

If I could unlock the fire rose door to reach Nell, to reclaim her from the ice people… would that not also be a sign? A sign that my mission was pure?

“All right,” I told Michelle, going to rifle through the hanging racks of peasant clothing. I selected for myself a low-brimmed cap, a black knit scarf, and a frayed jacket stuffed with wool. The luxurious bearskin mantle would need to stay behind, lamentably. Lifting out the skeleton key from within my leather satchel, I said, “This will open the door… if it is the will of the gods that we enter the castle this morning.”

I left the mirror behind in the clothing shop, telling myself it was because it was too heavy and unwieldy, and we might need to do battle… though I knew it was not the whole reason.



 



The palace lay near the shops of the city; now that day had risen in the marketplace, ice dragons had entered the foray to “shop,” although it resembled looting and pillaging. Luckily, the ice people had always been self-centered and materialistic. Unlike the fire dragons, they cared nothing for their fellow man, and so they allowed two peasants to pass without so much as a glare.

Within a block or two, using only alleyways as passages, we had woven through the crowd and come to the castle itself. The main entrance was, naturally, heavily guarded. But there were too many potential points of entry to install a guard at every terrace, every lattice. At least, with the depleted ice population, it was not possible.

Though the staff of the fire dragon palace must have also lacked in some respects, or else the ice people wouldn’t even be here.

The palace was composed of a pearlescent white stone, built in large, square bricks, cemented with mortar. Round towers protruded from its sides, and verandas trimmed the space between towers. Now that I peered at the castle as a hopeful fugitive seeking entry, I realized how laughably simple it was. There were a hundred places to slip through.

Along the western wall was a tower which housed our library and an arsenal. Once a thick bramble of blood-red roses as thick as my fist had sprouted along the rock’s path like a swath of blood. Every now and then, a hummingbird or a bumblebee would land on one of the incandescent rose petals, and the entire thing would burst into flames. Of course, fire children were much more capable of withstanding fire than any other variety of child, and so we’d often triggered them for sheer fun. If you got caught by one, it was no worse than an electrical shock… for us. For an ice dragon, you might lose the use of that limb for a few weeks. It was emblematic, mostly; emblematic of the fire dragon lives lost in the last war, and how it would never happen again.

The western tower now stood barren, with the exception of the brittle, skeletal shawl it still wore: a shawl of twisted dry veins where fiery roses used to glow, just begging to be touched, now destroyed in the snow. And there, heavy and rusted shut, was the secret door. An entrance into the castle which could only be used by fire dragons—until now. Until the death of the roses.

Although the likelihood that we would be spotted by a guard was low, as the castle was huge and we would not be standing at this wall for long, it was still not safe to be here. At any moment, someone might have yelled, “Intruders!”

Intruder. Into the only home I had ever known.

I extracted the skeleton key and closed my eyes, willing the fates to bless my mission. To bless the throne of the fire kingdom, to bless the safe return of my father and brother, and to bless even Penelope, however unknown her heart. Bless her still.

I inserted the key and twisted.

No click came. No tumblers fell into place. No bolt slid.