Page 41 of King of Fire and Scales

Drake, he’s going to kill me. He's going to kill me and…

She wept inside his head. It summoned the anger back inside the king, his own turbulent storm.

That is not going to happen. I promise you to the depths of my heart and soul. I am sorry I refused to hear you. I have a lifetime to express my sincerest contrition.

Thalia sniffled in his mind, no longer crying. Her voice was small, terrified, mortifying the king in a way that made him feel murderous.

Get me out of here, Drake. Find Sorcha. She will help you.

I am coming for you, my darling. Hold on.

Half dressed in his military ware, the king ran out of his chambers. He used a secret tunnel that connected the royal rooms directly to the dungeon. Only the king and queen were privy to it, and only the most trusted members of his staff knew of their existence. Torchlight flickered passed him in the dark as he reached the cellar of the castle, and he pushed the door open.

The dungeon was damp and dewy. There were no windows, and the fresh air was eaten up as prisoners were brought down into the unseemly lockup. Drake closed the secret door behind him and wandered past the various empty cells until he found who he was looking for.

Sorcha sat on her cot, her head in her hands. His heart dropped like a stone when he approached, and she did not gaze up.

“Sorcha.”

His feet waded through small puddles as tangerine torchlight gushed through the cell. She lifted her head to him, her usual bright and amiable smile wiped away.

“My King…” she mumbled dryly.

Drake wrapped a hand around the bars of the cell and leaned his forehead against them. He was despaired by what he had done to someone so faithful and skilled. She appeared like the color had been stolen from her, like a thief in the night.

He would have to make it up to her as well should she agree to come to his and Thalia’s aid.

“Sorcha, my heart is heavy over what has happened. My apology knows no limits. I have been used by our royal scholar, the conniving Pyralis. He has taken Thalia and promises to devour her of her essence.”

The words were like a knife on his tongue, severing it in two. The moment he mentioned Thalia, Sorcha hopped to her feet, pressing her own head to the bars.

“He has Thalia? What can I do? We must talk to Lucien first, I believe. This is all one large misunderstanding."

Drake could have fainted with relief. He picked up the dungeon keys that dangled from a hook, then released his wrongly accused prisoner. When she emerged from the cell, he could see her eyelids had turned to a bruised shade of purple. The eggshell of her whites were veined in crimson red flairs.

She had only been within the dungeon for half a day, but her spirit had diminished. Drake despised himself for potentially snuffing out such a shining soul.

He bowed his head to her mournfully as he spoke.

“I once again apologize, Sorcha. I was possessed by ego and thought only of my reputation. I will understand if you choose to leave my side once this conflict is resolved.”

Miraculously, Sorcha smiled. The blue cuts of sapphire of her eyes twinkled in the shadowy space.

“I am loyal to My King, and I am loyal to our future queen. Let us have a dialogue with my cousin.”

The king was gracious, and they climbed the long staircase that ascended into the castle.

Thunder clamored as they approached the battlefield. The sky was raw and bleeding red.

Hold on, Thalia. Please, hold on.

TWENTY-ONE

THALIA

Thalia spoke to Drake telepathically while strapped to a stone table. The top of her tunic and fabric near her lower back stuck to her in a puddle of sopping sweat as she strained against the metal chains.

Pyralis stood in a shadowy corner, flipping through the literature on Creation Sorceresses under dancing marigold light. When war began waging, cannons sounding, deafening pounding of stone, wails, and screeching woe, he raised his head, smirking.

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