Page 91 of Heart of Shadows

A familiar feather-light touch caressed Harper as they crossed the threshold. She knew the Dragonheart was there. Instinctively, she recognised the imprint of it, the feel of it.

“It’s here,” she said as they rushed along the tunnel. “I can feel it.”

They entered a large cellar with vaulted ceilings. Shelves upon shelves were laid out in rows, bearing the most unlikely treasures—dragon eggs of every size, colour, and texture. Even Erika stopped for a moment of wonder.

“This way. Quickly.” Aedon led them. “It’ll be in one of the secure vaults. I’m holding back the wards with every ounce of our combined strength, but I can’t protect us for long.” Harper saw his jaw clenched, as though he were under some great strain, and a bead of sweat began to form upon his brow.

They followed him through the gloom. In every direction, the egg store was pitch black. Harper followed Aedon closely, keen to stay within the sphere of magical light he had cast to illuminate the way, small and inconsequential though it seemed.

“We’re getting closer,” Harper said. “I can feel something familiar. It’s the stone. I know it sounds crazy, but?—”

“Not crazy at all,” said Aedon, changing course. “What you’re sensing is the magical resonance of the stone. It’s familiar to you after so much time together.”

There was neither chance—nor breath—to question him as she followed him at a run. They came upon a wooden door, locked with a metal cylindrical mechanism of many revolving discs, the likes of which she had not seen before.

“A safe,” remarked Aedon. “How predictable!”

“A safe?” Harper asked.

“The gigantic strongbox of rich folks,” Aedon explained, wrinkling his nose.

“How do we open it?” Harper ran her fingers over the dials.

“Allow me, my dear.” Aedon gestured for her to stand to one side and took her place before the door, raising his arms and wriggling his fingers, as though preparing. He whispered to the door, stroking the dials in a particular order. The dials rotated on their own until the door groaned and opened slowly. Aedon tsked. “Too easy. They always make it too easy.” But, bravado aside, his mouth fell open at what lay inside. Piles of Dragonhearts of all colours, shapes, and sizes.

“There are so many,” Harper whispered.

“Enough to cure a nation, if it came to it,” Aedon said, his voice equally hushed. “It’s too tempting. Think of the good we could do with all this! Grab as many as you can.”

“Wait… What? We came for just one—mine!” Harper said. “We can’t steal any!”

Aedon scoffed at her. “These could help us curtail what threatens to be a plague, and they’re good for many more things beside. Start grabbing.”

Harper refused, following the tug inside her to the small stone that was hers and hers alone. She grasped it and stepped from the vault. The rest soon tumbled out, their pockets, bags, and anything else that could be used as a vessel stuffed with as many Dragonhearts as they could carry.

“Quick,” said Aedon through gritted teeth. “The wards are crushing me. I cannot hold them back much longer. We must leave.”

They followed him out at a run. They heard a shout up ahead. Torchlights bloomed.

“Weapons out, team, and stick together,” Aedon said calmly. Harper’s heart lurched as more adrenaline flooded her system.

The Kingsguard melted out of the darkness in a cacophony of noise, light, and blood-red cloaks, until the group was surrounded from all directions.

68

HARPER

Aedon forged ahead, flanked by Brand and Erika, who cut down anyone in their way. Harper stumbled and fell, smashing her already battered body on the stones, but the rush inside her had her up and running a second later. She chanced a glance behind her. How could they be behind and ahead of her? Several red cloaks flapped in the gloom, spurring her on.

The portcullis ahead lowered by the second. Aedon and Erika sprinted through. Brand dove, barely making it out. He landed hard on the far side before scrambling to his feet. They fanned out to meet the wall of red cloaks awaiting them at the far side. Time stretched. Her legs felt like lead. Every step took her further away, not closer—and she wasn’t going to make it.

“No!” screamed Harper, but it was too late. The portcullis slammed shut, cutting Ragnar off with her.

Aedon turned, and paled.

“Harper!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the impenetrable metal and looking at them helplessly. He only had a moment before he was forced to turn and meet blades with one of the Kingsguard on his side of the barrier.

Harper and Ragnar backed into a corner between the portcullis and the rough walls as the Kingsguard fanned out around them. Ragnar raised his axe before him. Harper swallowed. Fear fuelled her now, but as she looked at her companions, snarling desperately as they fought, almost like caged animals that knew they were already defeated, a surge of anger rose. This was not how it was supposed to end, but end they would unless she did something.

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