I feel a sudden urge to find Sema and help him finish whatever he had planned against Dayn. But with my shadow cloak still holding and time running out, I leap over the banister and catch the carved edge of the column.
Slowly, carefully, I climb down, fingers digging into sculpted dragons. My foot slips into a dragon’s open mouth—its fangs tickling my sole—but I steady my breath and continue, sliding down the pillar’s dark side.
Finally, I reach the ground floor.
“I don’t like that darkblood bitch,” the first guard mutters. “I don’t trust her.”
“Who does?” the other replies, as replacement guards double-check their shields and weapons. I’m barely twenty feet away, catching every hateful word.
“I don’t know why they don’t just get rid of her.”
“She’s bound to Lord Daynthazar,” one newcomer says. “They don’t know if the bond can be broken, or what it’d cost.”
“And I hear she’s got some mad new skills, now that she’s got all that dragon blood,” the first guard sneers.
Mad new skills,I think, allowing myself a dark, private smile before moving on.
The ground floor sprawls around me: polished black stone veined with gold, walls crackling with gilded lines. Amber light flickers from braziers and chandeliers, chasing shadows in a perpetual waltz—light advancing, shadow reclaiming. There’s always a balance, a rhythm I can feel in my pulse. Cloaked and unseen, I slip along the wall toward the southern wing of the palace.
Leaving the gossip behind, I chase thoughts of Dayn away while retracing my steps from the tour that Nyssa gave me. The BlackArchives are somewhere below, and there was a service staircase I remember, somewhere around…
Here.I spot the door.
It’s narrow and painted black, with gold streaks mimicking the wall’s design. It’s supposed to be unnoticeable, discrete enough for the common eye to miss, while those on staff would know precisely what it serves.
Of course, it’s locked.
I pause before I try to think of a way to open it without using blood magic. The whole Heathborne incident knocked the wind out of me, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not sure I’ve got all of my mojo back. The shadow energy comes naturally, as though it was always a part of me.
Besides, blood magic is more likely to be detected.
Other palace staff walk past me, but I’m safe in the shade. The darkness is my ally. The darkness…
My fingers move, already connected to a subtle thought in the back of my head. I feel the cloak pull away and concentrate into a pulse in the palm of my hand. I’m not hidden from sight anymore, but the shadow wisp that forms under my gaze takes the shape of a key.
A skeleton key.I stare, marveling at the synergy between my thoughts and my new ability. The way it obeys me like a limb.
It’s still rough and limited, however. I gave up the shadow cloaking for this key.
But it looks solid enough to use, so I slip it into the lock.
It works. After a minute, I’m in. I close the door behind me, then make my way down the spiraling staircase, curious as to how deep I can get.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched, though. As if a shadow not of my making lingers over my shoulder. I stop and look back, but there’s nothing. Only the sense of something heavy, something dangerous waiting for me to slip up.
The underground is a dark place, but just as clean and polished as the upper floors. The walls are dressed in obsidian, and statues of ancient dragons hold up flickering torches to guide the visitors.Again, I cling to the shadowy parts and move toward the end of the hallway, where a large set of double doors awaits.
The Black Archives.
Of course, guards are stationed there. I’ll need a diversion and another shadow-forged key to slip past them…
“Darkblood.” Lord Bemmar’s calm fury echoes at my back.
I spin around.What?
A shimmering pulse slams into me. It doesn’t hurt but sends a cold tremor down my spine as I stagger.
“Just because you’re learning to play with dragon-infused magic doesn’t mean you can elude us,” Lord Bemmar says.
