Page 34 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

CAT

T he carriage wheels groaned beneath us as we jolted down the cobbled road and the mansions and manicured hedges of the Northern District slowly gave way to tangled fences and the untamed horizon that loomed ahead.

The moment I leaned forward and tapped on the wall behind the driver, I could feel Maeve's eyes drilling into the side of my head.

“Take us to the edge of Faelight Forest,” I called out, loud enough for the driver to hear over the rattle of the wheels.

“What?!” Maeve's gasp was a sharp contrast to the steady clip-clop of the horses. “Why in the Immortals' names would we go there ? That bargain with Klaus was broken, remember?”

I didn’t look at her right away. Instead, I kept my gaze fixed on the horizon where the trees in the distance looked less like foliage and more like the dark spines of some ancient beast curled along the earth. Faelight Forest. Beautiful. Deadly. And probably our only chance.

“That’s exactly why we should go,” I finally said, shifting back in my seat to meet her wide, incredulous eyes. “If there's anyone who would be just petty and pissed off enough to help us ruin Thorne, it's Klaus.”

Maeve shook her head, her voice sharp and frantic. “He's trapped, Cat. The bargain was null and void the second he failed to come to your aid. And you barely made it out of that forest alive last time!”

I smiled a slow, dangerous smile that made Maeve's eyes narrow even more. “Which is why I’m not going into the forest. I’m just going to stand at the edge and see who’s listening.”

“You think they’ll just come out and offer help like tea and biscuits?” she asked dryly.

“No, but I do think Klaus still has something to prove. And besides... don’t you think it’s odd that no one’s noticed that the Ryder iron mines have gone dry?” I leaned in, keeping my voice low, conspiratorial. “If the iron’s the only thing binding the wards on the forest...”

Her eyes widened further. “Then the fae should’ve broken through already!”

“Exactly. Which means something else is keeping them in. Something weak. Fragile. Probably tied together with spit and political wishful thinking.”

Maeve's mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “And you want to test that theory by playing bait?”

“Not bait,” I corrected. “Just... bait-adjacent.”

She groaned and flung herself back against the seat. “Immortals preserve us.”

“Look,” I said, resting a hand on her knee, serious now. “I need you to go to the Southern District the moment we reach the tree line. Find Garrick and bring him back here. Quietly.”

“Garrick? For what? More cryptic riddles and threadbare robes?”

“No.” I grinned. “Because if I’m going to poke the fae hive, I want someone with a little magic on standby in case they decide I look snackable.”

Maeve sighed. “Fine. But if you get turned into a toad or pulled into a realm of eternal riddles and screaming, I’m not helping.”

I winked. “You always say that.”

Twenty minutes later, the carriage pulled to a slow halt, wheels crackling on brittle grass and dirt. I opened the door and stepped down, boots crunching against earth that felt colder than it should’ve been. The air here had weight to it. A stillness. Like the world itself was holding its breath.

Faelight Forest loomed before me. No gates. No walls. Just towering trees that faintly shimmered beneath the sun. Not with light, but with something other . Something not of this realm. Their trunks twisted in ways bark shouldn't bend, and the leaves overhead rustled even though there was no wind.

The forest edge was soft and almost inviting, like the gentle lip of a tide luring you toward deeper waters. But I knew better.

Behind me, Maeve stepped down from the carriage. Her expression was hard to read—half worry, half resigned acceptance I’d come to know well.

“I’ll go find Garrick,” she said. “But if I don’t make it back, it’s because I tripped over his mismatched boots and fell into a gutter.”

I smirked. “Try not to die. I’m kind of fond of you.”

She gave me a flat look, then turned and climbed back into the carriage. The driver flicked the reins and the horses trotted off, leaving me alone with the woods.

I stood there for a long moment with my arms crossed, staring into the shifting trees. There was a whisper in the branches. A voice I couldn’t quite catch, but it prickled at the back of my mind like déjà vu.

The last time I came here, I'd gotten terribly lost. I was tricked into making a bargain with Klaus, who had no love for humanity but plenty of contempt for boredom. He became my unlikely savior—charming, infuriating, and always two steps ahead.

“Alright, Klaus,” I muttered under my breath. “Let’s see if you’re still listening.”

I stepped forward—only one step. Enough to feel the air shift and taste the magic on my tongue. I didn’t go further. The forest remembered.

“Come out, you smug bastard,” I whispered. “I know you’re bored. And I know you hate the Drakonars almost as much as I do.” Damien excluded, that was.

Nothing.

I waited. The shadows moved. A breeze that didn’t belong in this world ruffled my hair.

Still, nothing.

I took another step forward, pulse thudding in my ears. “You owe me a proper goodbye, you know. Bargain or no, you did save me a couple of times. I’d hate to think all that sarcasm was wasted on a mortal who never got to use it properly.”

The wind stopped. The forest hushed.

Then, the air in front of me shimmered.

And there, right at the border where forest met world, a figure appeared—leaning against the bark of an impossibly wide tree like he’d been there all along.

Klaus.

His hair was silver-white, falling past his shoulders to his bottom in a smooth curtain that looked like silk. Wearing his customary layers of white linen, his lavender eyes were full of mischief that worried me a bit.

“You rang, Kitten?” he purred, as if we were meeting for drinks instead of plotting world-changing rebellion.

I crossed my arms. “You always make an entrance like you’re auditioning for the role of ‘mysterious brooding bad boy number five’.”

He gave a mock bow. “And yet, you always come back for more.”

“This isn’t a booty call, Klaus.”

“Pity.” He clucked his tongue. “Well, then. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your divine, inked self again? It’s not every day the girl who gave me temporary freedom shows up on my doorstep.”

I hesitated, eyeing him carefully. Klaus and I had a... complicated dynamic. He was clever, dangerous, and far too charming for his own good. The kind of man who would kiss you while stealing your blade.

“I told you I’d be back when I needed you,” I said. “Well, here I am. Elaria’s falling apart, and I need your help.”

His smirk didn’t fade, but I saw a flicker of calculation behind his eyes. “Let me guess. This is about Thorne, the newly appointed emperor.”

“How do you even get news from the outside here?” I asked in surprise.

He smirked. “The birdies talk.” He waved around him knowingly. “Go on; what about the emperor?”

“He’s more like a full-on genocidal maniac with a god complex,” I muttered.

Klaus raised a brow. “Colorful. Continue.”

I told him. Everything. About the empty mines. The faltering wards. The dying magic that once kept them trapped. About Thorne. The ominous enthronement. Malachar’s vision. The thunder with no rain. I left nothing out.

By the end, Klaus was no longer smirking.

“So,” he said, his voice quiet. “You want to burn the cage.”

“I want to open the door.”

He was silent for a long time.

And then, finally, he smiled—sharp and wicked.

“Well,” he said. “That sounds fun.”

I stepped closer, the shimmer between us buzzing at my movement. “I want to get your people out. All of you. The fae shouldn’t be locked in this place forever.”

He tilted his head. “That’s a bold promise, Kitten.”

“I’m not promising anything.” I unflinchingly met his gaze. “I’m asking for your help. In exchange, I’ll do everything I can to break the wards and let you out. But I need the fae to back Damien.”

His brow twitched. “Ah, so it all comes back to the Shadow Prince.”

“He’s the only one who can stop Thorne. And he won’t lock your people up again. That, I promise.”

Klaus’s lips pursed, his face hardening for the first time. “You want me to put my people’s lives on the line and start a war we’re not even technically part of, just because your scowling prince has decent cheekbones and a better moral compass than his brother?”

I quirked a brow. “Were you planning to stay in here forever?” I challenged. “Caged like pets? Watched from afar? Told your magic is dangerous?”

Silence. For once, Klaus said nothing.

“This is your chance, Klaus. To change everything. If you align with Damien—”

“You’re assuming he wants the throne,” Klaus interjected.

When I hesitated, he chuckled.

“What? You hadn’t thought of that?”

“Of course I have,” I lied. Damien didn’t want it, but I couldn’t tell him that.

“Has he ?”

I frowned.

Klaus took a few lazy steps closer, folding his arms as he towered over me. “What if I don’t want to align with Damien? What if I want the throne for myself? The fae ruled Elaria once, you know. Long before your dragons slithered their way into power.”

My stomach dropped. “Is that what this is about? You want the throne for yourself?”

I’d forgotten Klaus was the grandson of the last fae king. As such, he had the same right to the throne as Damien and Thorne. Shit. I should have thought this through a bit better.

He held my gaze for a long beat. Then he burst out laughing. “By the Immortals, your face! I haven’t had that much fun since I poisoned the wine at the High Council Summit!”

“You did what now?”

“Relax, Kitten. Just a mild laxative. For years afterward, they referred to it as the ‘Sitting Summit’.”

I groaned. “You’re a menace.”

“You love it.”

I didn’t argue.

He sighed, his expression turning serious again. “Truthfully, no. I don’t want the throne. I want my people safe. Free. Able to live and breathe and walk under the damn sun without some warlock binding their essence to tree bark.”

“You knew the iron was no longer holding your people to the forest?” I furrowed my brows in surprise.

He nodded. “It was why I made the bargain with you. To escape for a bit and figure it out. It was how I learned the mines were empty.”

“Then help me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “How?”

I grinned. “Maeve is fetching Garrick right now. When he gets here, he’s going to test the wards. If they’re as weak as I think, we may have an opening. Literally.”

Klaus squinted. “You think he has the power to free us?”

“You already know my family’s iron mines are drying up. The iron is what’s holding you here, so if the source is nearly gone... maybe the prison is, too.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s clever. Dangerous. Possibly explosive.”

“Sounds a lot like me.”

He laughed again. “Fine. I’ll wait for your little warlock to show up. But Kitten?”

“Yeah?”

He stepped close again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If you get us out and Damien turns out to be just another tyrant in prettier armor... I won’t hesitate to burn this world down.”

I swallowed. “Fair.”

“But until then,” he said, tapping my nose, “you have my attention.”

The crunch of carriage wheels over dried pine needles echoed in the quiet woods as Maeve and Garrick arrived at the edge of Faelight Forest. The horses nervously snorted, clearly sensing the raw magic in the air.

The forest shimmered like a mirage in the late afternoon sun, its colors just a bit too vibrant, the air too still.

I straightened as they pulled up, brushing leaves off my dress. Klaus stood beside me, calm and unreadable as ever, his lavender eyes glinting with amusement.

Maeve stepped down first, her brow tight with worry. “Are you sure about this, my lady?”

“As sure as I am about the sun rising tomorrow.” I stepped forward.

Garrick hopped down behind her, his usual cocky demeanor subdued. His one eye flitted from me to Klaus and then to the forest like he was preparing for something to leap out and bite him. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered.

“Nice to see you too, Garrick,” I said, offering a crooked smile.

He crossed his arms. “You brought me all the way out here for what? To stand next to a war criminal with too much hair product?”

Klaus grinned. “I like him. Can we keep him?”

“No,” I said. “But we do need him. Garrick, I need you to test the wards. See if what I suspect is true.”

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re asking a lot.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “So is the universe. But here we are.”

Klaus folded his arms and leaned against a tree, watching with vague interest. Maeve looked around nervously and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

Garrick finally stepped forward. “Alright, stand back. This isn’t exactly harmless.”

We obeyed, moving a few feet away as Garrick raised his hands. He drew a small dagger from his belt and sliced across his palm, then muttered a spell under his breath. The blood gleamed and rose from his hand in a glowing red mist that spiraled toward the invisible shimmer of the ward.

The moment it touched the boundary, the air violently shimmered. A web of glowing veins burst across the surface like cracks in glass, and the forest groaned. Klaus flinched. Maeve gasped.

“That... that ward isn’t made of iron,” Garrick breathed. “That’s...”

“Magic,” Klaus finished.

He nodded, wiping the blood from his palm onto a cloth. “Old magic. Warlock-made. Similar to the kind used in Dragon Valley’s palace. It’s layered, but... weak. Fragile. Like someone’s been patching it up with adhesive and hope.”

Klaus stepped forward and ran his hand along the glowing cracks. “So it can be broken?”

Garrick tilted his head. “With effort, but yes. If we strike at the right point, the whole thing could come down.”

My heart raced. I turned to Klaus. “Well? Are you in?”

He looked at me long and hard, and for a moment, the flirty mask dropped and I saw him for what he truly was. He was fae royalty, ancient and powerful.

Then the smirk returned.

He winked. “I’m in. Let’s break some rules, shall we?”