Page 42 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

DAMIEN

T he Southern District was a mess of smoke, sweat, and sin, but if there was one place where a man like Garrick could disappear, it was here. And if there was one place I would find him, it was at a gambling den, according to Cat.

I moved through the narrow alleys behind the textile markets with my cloak drawn low, the edge of my boots muffled by the dirt-packed streets.

Merchants called out in a cacophony of languages, the scent of spiced lamb and fried foods heavy in the humid air.

Rats darted past baskets of rotting fruit, and the murmur of dice games, laughter, and cursing echoed from every side alley and broken-door tavern.

Finally, I found it: The Jackal’s Tooth.

Tucked between a collapsed spice warehouse and a brothel so dimly lit it was more shadow than structure, the den was barely marked by a swinging wooden sign carved with a toothy grin. Inside, it smelled of old sweat, coin, and desperation.

The room was filled with acrid smoke, the low ceiling making it feel like the walls were caving in. Men shouted over card games, dice clattered across wooden tables, and scantily clad women sat in the laps of winners—or losers with deep pockets.

After a quick scan of the room, I found him.

At the back, surrounded by a pile of tokens, wine, and fools, Garrick laughed uproariously as he slapped down a card. His hair was tied back and his one good eye gleamed with mischief.

I drifted to him like a shadow.

He didn’t notice until I dropped a coin onto the table.

“That your wager, stranger?” he asked without looking up, until my silence gave me away. Then he froze. “By the Immortals!”

“We need to talk.”

He attempted to brush me off. “Not now, my friend. I’m on a roll.”

“It’s about Cat,” I said calmly. “She’s in trouble.”

Garrick threw a wistful glance at the tokens he had stacked up, then at the cards in his hand. He sighed. “Of course you need me now ,” he muttered. Standing and tossing his hand down on the table, he declared, “Keep the pot. Consider it my donation to your sad lives.”

The other gamblers jeered, but Garrick ignored them as he followed me out into the alley.

“What's so important that you had to interrupt my winning streak?” he groused.

I didn’t answer until we were clear of the building. “Thorne has Cat.”

He stopped walking. Just froze.

“What?”

“She was arrested during a riot in the Northern District this morning. She's in Dragon Valley now.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “Jacob confirmed it.”

Garrick's jaw tightened. “Then we need to go now.”

“We will. But not without backup.”

He raised a brow, inviting me to explain the delay.

“We’re storming Dragon Valley in four days. I need your help. And I need the fae.”

His eye narrowed. “The fae?”

“Yes. Cat told me what you learned – that the wards on Faelight Forest are weak and you claimed you could break them. I’m calling in that promise on her behalf.”

Garrick ran a hand through his hair. “That forest is cursed, Damien.”

“So are we, if we don’t act.”

He blew out a breath and looked away. “You really think Klaus and his people will fight for us?”

“Cat convinced him.”

“Of course she did,” he muttered.

I met his gaze. “I need you, Garrick… Cat needs you.”

He looked back at the gambling den as though weighing what he was leaving behind. Then he shrugged. “Well, I already gave away my winnings. Might as well gamble on something real.”

We clasped hands.

“You’ll have it done in time?”

He nodded. “I’ll work to gather what I need. Tell Klaus to be ready. When the wards drop, he’ll have his freedom… and so will we.” He began to turn, but paused. “And Damien?”

“What?”

He met my gaze, his expression solemn. “Don’t get yourself killed before I get back. You’re the only one she’d burn the world for.”

I gave him a grim smile. “Then let’s make sure there’s still a world left to burn.”

As we disappeared into the winding streets of the Southern District, a plan etched itself into motion.

I was one step closer to freeing Cat.

And one step closer to war.

The wind shifted the instant I reached the edge of Faelight Forest.

The air here always carried a hint of something strange.

Earthier. Older. Heavier. Not like the rest of Elaria, which buzzed with life and flame and steel.

No, this place whispered. It breathed. It remembered.

Moss clung to the bark like it had grown sentient, and the trees stretched taller than any tower in Dragon Valley with gnarled limbs twisting like dancers mid-pose.

Fog clung low to the forest floor, curling around my boots with an eerie gentleness.

The shadows felt alive here. If you weren’t careful, I was half-convinced they would remember your name.

I pulled my cloak tighter around me as I strode forward with deliberate steps. Faelight Forest wasn’t a place you rushed through; it was a place that demanded respect, or it would eat you whole.

Cat had warned me of that.

She’d told me about the first time she came here—how she became hopelessly lost and was found by Klaus.

How she struck a bargain, one that bound them together, however briefly.

She said he was charming in that insufferably smug way only a fae could master.

But more than that, he was dangerous. Unpredictable.

A creature caged by ancient magic and endless time. I’d only met him once.

And today, I came to rattle his cage.

“I was beginning to wonder if you'd show.”

His voice came from nowhere and everywhere. Smooth as honeyed wine, sharp as a dagger between the ribs. A figure emerged from the trees, not walking so much as gliding.

Klaus .

He looked the same as I’d last seen him—tall and lithe, lavender eyes gleaming with mischief beneath a curtain of silky white hair that shimmered like light had been spun through it.

He wore no crown, but his bearing screamed royalty.

His presence warped the space around him like a heatwave on a summer field.

“You’re late,” he added.

“I wasn’t aware you were expecting me.”

“Oh, I always expect trouble. Especially when Kitten is involved.”

I didn’t rise to the bait.

“I’m here because it’s time. Four days from now, we march on Dragon Valley. I need your people.”

Klaus slowly stepped forward, his shoes silent on the soil. “So she told you everything.”

“She did. And that you agreed to help.”

“I take it Garrick confirmed the truth of the shield?” Klaus asked, straightening up. “Not made of iron, but magic?”

“You were there,” I reminded him. “You saw him test it. You know as well as I do that it’s old magic. Warlock-forged. Fragile. You could break through them with a hard wind and a little pressure.”

His grin returned, sly and slow. “Yes, well, forgive me if I wanted to hear it from your lips. Makes it feel... official.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Klaus gave a contented hum and glanced back toward the trees as if considering the weight of centuries. “Do you know how long we’ve waited to be free? How long I’ve wandered this forest with the bones of kings beneath my feet while the rest of the world forgot our names?”

“Then take your chance. Come with us. Fight.”

He turned his gaze back to me. “And what happens after? If Thorne falls. If you win. What do I get in return for leading my people into war?”

I unflinchingly met his stare. “You get freedom. A seat at the table. Recognition.”

His eyes sharpened. “Freedom isn’t given, Prince. It’s taken.”

“Then take it,” I said brusquely. “You said it yourself. You’ve waited centuries and now here it is, your moment. You either rot in these woods or you rise.”

Klaus tilted his head, studying me. “She believes in you.”

“I know.”

“She burns for you, did you know that? Her aura practically singes the wind when she says your name.”

“Then help me save her.”

That finally broke the tension.

His smile faded. His lavender eyes lost their gleam. “Thorne has her?”

I nodded. “Took her from the marketplace during a riot this morning. She’s in the dungeons, probably being tortured as we speak.”

For a moment, Klaus said nothing. Then he turned and whistled—a high, shrill sound that cut through the stillness.

From the trees, figures emerged. Fae. Dozens, then hundreds of them. Pale and tall, their eyes glowing faintly with hidden magic. I felt the hair on my arms rise.

“We’re ready,” Klaus said quietly. “Tell Garrick to break the wards. We’ll come like a storm.”

I stared at him. “Just like that?”

“No,” he said, his enigmatic smile returning.

“Not just like that. But I’ve made up my mind, and I think it’s time the world remembers what fae fire feels like.

” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of lavender and moonlight on his skin.

“Do you believe in fate, Shadow Prince?”

“Not particularly.”

“Pity. Because the threads are tightening. I can feel it. If you’d asked me a decade ago if I’d fight in a war on behalf of a dragon prince and his mortal mate, I would’ve laughed until my ribs ached.”

I stepped closer. “But you’re not laughing now.”

“No,” he said, his uncanny expression solemn. “I’m not.” He looked up at the sky and sighed. “You better not get Kitten killed, Shadow Prince. Or I will rip the stars down from the sky and bury you beneath them.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

We clasped forearms.

The pact was made.

The war had truly begun.