“Berth—a stuffy old servant,” she whispered. “He was snooping around, asking about your mother.”
“The queen?” I ducked under a thick strand of webbing, flinching as something skittered to my side. I squinted into the shadows. Whatever it was, it was too small to worry about.
“Aye, ‘Queen of Dragons,’ he called her. In exchange for a few juicy tidbits about her, he shared these old passages with me.”
“Not just my secrets, but my mother’s as well.” I sighed, dust and grime clinging to my hands as I crawled. I couldn’t fathom how I’d explain the state of my robe to Edith in the morning.
“Have faith,” she reassured me. “I told him nonsense—something about you being born in the Nest.”
“Common knowledge,” I muttered.
She paused, and I leaned over to see what had halted her. A massive rat skeleton glinted in the flickering candlelight. “You’ve seen dragons swallow cows, and you’re scared of a dead rat?” I chuckled, then took the candle. I moved past, shuffling down the dusty passage with a grin.
“Common in Draconia, but here it’s a bit more… shocking!” she mused, the rustle of fabric assuring me she followed.
The path stretched on, swallowed by the endless darkness. We passed several side passages but kept our course straight, the most reliable route for retracing our steps. The air grew heavier, colder. Conversation dwindled, our words drowned by the creeping silence. Then, faint voices filtered through the stillness. We froze, exchanging tense glances in the dim light.
“Chicken.” Her brown eyes twinkled in the candlelight, a daring smile lifting one side of her mouth.
I glared, thrusting the candle at her before inching forward. We could still turn back, slip away unnoticed, as long as whoever spoke wasn’t in the tunnel.
The voices swelled, growing louder as we snuck along, each hand and knee placed with deliberate caution. We dodged rat droppings, stepped over decaying mice, and skirted low-hanging webs, the air thick with dust. My throat itched, but I fought the urge to clear it.
We stopped at a door embedded in the wall. Like the others, it was latched from the inside and coated in grime. No light bled through the cracks, a sign it had been kept hidden just as mine was.
A sudden crash jolted me, and I snapped a quick look at Scythe. Her lips tightened, but her eyes gleamed with excitement. She crept closer to the door, pressing her ear to the filthy surface.
I followed, our faces so close that our breaths mingled in the stale air.
“—knew I wouldn’t be here,” a muffled voice said, distorted by layers of wood, but youthful in its outrage.
“No, Idemandedyou be here.” The depth of that baritone sent the fine hairs at the nape of my neck on end. It was too distant, too unclear to identify, yet I felt it in my bones.
‘The king!’I mouthed, eyes widening in shock. Panic surged, urging me to flee, to dart down the passage.
Scythe dropped her jaw, blinked, then snapped it shut with a sly grin.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t obey your whims.” The younger voice bit back. Tallon—it had to be.
“You’ve had your youth,” Kallias’ tone resembled that of a growling beast rather than a regal king. “You’ve had your fun. Now you will step up—inherit Radaan. It’s time you learned your duty.”
“Radaan is mine–”
“Will be. Not yet, Tallon.” The king’s words sliced through his son’s defiance.
My teeth sank into my lip, desperate to stay quiet.
“I don’t need a queen to rise to the throne,” the prince said. His tone dripped with taunting malice, as if goading his father.
“Radaan needs her. Not you,” Kallias shouted. “Another repeat of tonight’s events and you’ll send her packing—if she isn’t gone already.”
“She was fine.”
A crash. A grunt. “Treat her that way again, and I’ll banish you to the valley beneath.”
“Just as you threatened Mother so many times.” Bitterness strangled Tallon’s scoff.
My pulse quickened. This conversation was not meant for my ears—but I couldn’t stop myself. Even Scythe’s expression shifted, her excitement replaced by a flicker of genuine fear.
