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Laszlo hummed. "Perhaps. I came to see if you'd like to try and rouse Hywel."
I straightened at that. "You want to try and wake him? Do you think we could?"
"Nothing I've tried has worked thus far, but we might at least entertain ourselves." Laszlo stepped back, crooking one arm and opening the other toward the dark doorway that I'd found during my first search.
I linked my arm with his and followed down into the deep caverns under the castle.
"Were these passageways here, or did Hywel dream them as well?"
"They were here, or most of them, at least. The shortcuts are his creation. Everything but the cavern where he sleeps was here," Laszlo explained.
"How can he sleep in a cavern he dreamt of?" I asked, smiling.
"He doesn't. He sleeps in a hole he dug and burrowed into under the ground. It only looks so fine thanks to his imagination."
"And all the treasure," I pointed out.
Laszlo hummed in agreement. "He started napping in the pool centuries ago. I knew then he was getting ready to hibernate. He would paw and dig and slither deeper with every brief sleep. But he refused to bring his hoard down."
"Why?"
Laszlo was quiet as we turned down the steps leading to the hoard. "He didn't want to admit it was time."
"He didn't want to leave you."
Laszlo tipped his head in acknowledgement. "He hasn't."
"How long is he meant to sleep for?" I asked.
"No one knows. He slept once when he was much younger, but time wasn't as well tracked then."
We stopped at the foot of the stairs. The candlelight was flickering, wicks burned down low, and outside the hollow opening of the cavern, it was evening instead of morning, the sun already below the horizon and glowing red over Hywel's sea.
"What if…what if he doesn't wake up?" I asked.
"Do you mean today, or…"
"In time for whatever war Asterion wants to wage against Birsha?"
"Provided we are careful, none of us, not even Birsha, are going to run out of time. Asterion can plan with or without Hywel's help. It makes no difference to a dreaming dragon. Come," Laszlo said, leading me forward. "I was worried he might've rolled over, but he's in precisely the right position."
Hywel was on his side, facing us, limbs and neck stretched, belly exposed.
My steps slowed and Laszlo slipped his arm free, pausing at Hywel's back feet, beautiful long claws still gleaming from the polish I'd given them.
"What exactly do you have planned?" I asked.
Laszlo's hands went to the draping fabric at the front of his waist, untying the sash. The twin drapes of fabric slid aside, and at his back, folds and crosses of material swung loose, revealing smooth planes of golden skin and knots of muscle that grew thicker and more pronounced, trails of feathers falling down the lines of his shoulder blades where his wings sprouted from. I hadn't realized the many layers of his shirt were really one long, continuous garment that crossed and twisted around his wings, and my fingers now itched to touch, to assist, to unbind a body that was broader than I'd imagined, more structured than slim. Laszlo's long tails swatted through the air at his back, fanning the thin feathered threads open and then falling smooth and sinuous again.
His back and sides were covered in delicate golden-brown freckles that seemed to swoop and swirl in something like a pattern. He pulled his arms free of the shirt, and those too were carved and defined, covered in more freckles and a small burst of feathers on either elbow. He folded the shirt and I helped myself to staring at his chest, gleaming and dusted with glimmering curls, as he moved to set his shift safely out of Hywel's reach. His trousers were high-waisted, slitted at the back to provide room for his tails, and he made no gesture to remove them.
"You don't wear a disguise like Asterion, but this isn't your full gryphon form, is it?"
"No, I can change at will. I take myself flying over the sea sometimes, but I prefer this form," Laszlo said. "I like to read. And work with my hands," he added, smirking with the hint of a secret. He used one knuckle to slide his glasses up his nose and turned back to study Hywel with a tipped head.
"You don't have to join me, if you find you'd rather not," he said over his shoulder. "But you're welcome to touch."
I want to touch you, I thought, and wondered if that was included in the invitation.
