A Shade of Dragon 2(25)

The thoughtful key, forged by the fates themselves, had denied me entrance to the castle.





Theon





Feeling numb, I pulled the key from its lock and stared at it as if I had never seen a key before.

“What is it?” Michelle asked off to my side. Her voice brought me back to the present.

“The key,” I replied, my voice unusually low. “It should have opened this door. But it—didn’t.”

I glanced over to find Michelle grimacing at me, a dark heat glowing in her eyes. “Well, don’t just stare at it,” she snapped. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

I hated to admit that the woman had excellent instincts, and when she whirled and stomped through the tundra, it was me who followed her.



 



Back at the shops, we settled in an alleyway to regroup. Ice dragons milled past us, none the wiser for our disguises. My face soured as my eyes followed an ice dragon female, unquestionably beautiful—and yet somehow hideous to me—sauntering through the destroyed storefront of a butcher shop. She had a length of boar sausage wrapped around her forearm, one of the links inflating her cheek and causing her lips to gleam with grease.

At least Gordon’s Instruments could not be stolen and strummed by their treacherous hands anymore.

“So, what else do you have in that magic sack of yours?” Michelle asked, her voice chilly. I should not have returned her kiss that night. But telling her such things would do nothing. She’d proven that already.

“Two extra swords… a length of rope, not long enough to reach the parapets… Ouch! One throwing star… some canned vegetables… youthberries,” I said, digging through the mason jars which lined the bottom of the satchel… until I came to the final glass jar: the empty bottle of poison with a scroll of papyrus tucked within. “There is a love letter.” I took the bottle from the satchel and examined it. “It can be written to anyone whom you love.” I slid the paper from the satchel and gazed upon it more closely. Was it useless now? Was the only possible recipient of its messages—Penelope O’Hara—in love with someone else? Would she, even if I breached the castle walls, demand to stay? “And the poison bottle,” I noted, as I continued to stare at the love letter. What would I write her—

“Poison bottle?” Michelle snatched the glass cylinder from my lap. “There’s nothing in this.”

“Whatever liquid fills it becomes poisonous. It’s quite dangerous, I was told. It could put a man to sleep for a few hours, or it could kill him instantly.”

“Oooh.” Michelle held it at a distance, examining it with renewed attention. “All right. Let’s try this one.”

“Just… try it?” She spoke so casually of murder. But then, had I not murdered a man—an ice dragon, but a man—just the other night? And when I had hesitated to murder another, had I not regretted it and seen the death of an old friend in recompense? Perhaps it would behoove a leader to react more like Michelle.

“It’s the only way to know,” she said, scooping some snow into the bottle and then handing it to me. “Here. Melt this.”

I glowered at her, but tucked the frigid bottle against my side nonetheless, and within a minute, it was sloshing with water at my slightest movement.

“Oh, that is funny,” Michelle commented, gesturing down to my feet. “Your body heat is so intense, it melts the snow around you if you stand still long enough.”

I glanced down, disbelieving, and sure enough found myself surrounded by a ring of brown and sodden grass.

I had never been mired in a snowfall like this. It would be a dead giveaway as to my position. All an ice dragon would need to do would be to look out a western window which peered onto the fire rose vine, and they would see the snow pressed to the side…

I pulled the poison bottle from within my shirt and saw it was now burbling with gas bubbles.

I could relate.

Even the fates seemed resigned to my downfall.

“Um, bro, you need to get a grip on your feelings. Nell is just a bitch, all right? So she cheated on you. Everybody cheats. Get that look off your face and let’s get into that damn castle already.” Apparently sensing my melancholy, Michelle snatched the poison bottle from my hand and sauntered out of the alleyway, passing the demolished storefronts and weaving her way toward the front gates.

It was madness, but I wasn’t surprised. Michelle was obviously insane. She would make a great dictator.

I followed her, but when she reached the guard staff itself, I shrank back behind some barrels of ale lined up outside one of the fire dragon breweries. The barrels were untouched, as our brand of ale could very well put an ice dragon into the hospital, gods be willing.