Page 9 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

CAT

T he next morning, I sat in front of the vanity as Maeve did my hair, grinning like a maniac. “Guess what?”

“What, my lady?”

“I’m bringing back your Lady Arya.” I winked at her through the mirror.

She gasped and pulled my hair, making me wince. “Apologies, my lady.”

I rubbed my scalp. “Ouch! Be gentle, Maeve.”

My companion was obviously flustered. She fanned her cheeks and gaped at me with wide eyes. “What… how?”

“Damien said I can go home.” I wanted to tell her he was coming with me, but something held me back. Perhaps I kept that tidbit to myself out of a warped sense of self-preservation. I mean, it was entirely possible he would change his mind.

Maeve’s big eyes widened even further. “My lady, that’s wonderful!”

I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. “I know!”

“But…”

“But what?” My smile faltered.

“How will you bring Lady Arya back? I can’t imagine she’s been waiting by the portal all this time,” Maeve whispered.

I nodded. “Yes, I thought about that. It won’t be easy but…

I’m going to try and see the seer again.

Maybe he can tell me when the next storm is and how long it’ll last. With that information, I’ll be more prepared.

If I manage to get back to my world, I’ll search for her during the timeframe the seer gives me, and if I can’t find her, I’ll return. ”

Maeve gasped again. “You would come back here?”

“Yeah… I would.”

She shook her head sadly. “My lady…”

I sighed and leaned back in the vanity chair. “If I don’t leave and search for her, then Arya will never be able to return to this world. This is the only way.”

Maeve placed her hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Th—thank you, my lady.”

I patted her hand. “Of course, Maeve.”

“Young Master Jacob has requested to see you today,” she said as she placed the final touches on my hair.

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t feel like seeing anyone with the last name of Ryder.”

“My lady…”

“They’re all annoying me. Also, shit’s about to hit the fan. Speaking of which, I need you to send word to Garrick.” I stood and straightened my dress.

“What happened, my lady?”

Without meeting her eyes, I nonchalantly replied, “The emperor died.”

The gasp from Maeve was so loud, I whirled around with wide eyes, thinking she was hurt. She smacked a hand over her mouth.

“Jesus, Maeve.”

“My lady!”

“I know, sucks, right?” I picked up a glass bottle and dabbed some rose perfume on my wrists.

Maeve’s face fell as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. “This is horrendous, my lady! A catastrophe! If it’s true, then Crown Prince Thorne will take over and…”

“Relax.” I waved her off, but then realized she was right.

He would become emperor, and honestly, he was just about as bad as the last person who had ruled the empire.

I felt shitty leaving Maeve and everyone else to deal with this nightmare.

They didn’t deserve what was about to happen. Was Damien thinking the same thing?

“Send word to Garrick,” I said more seriously this time. “We need to meet as soon as possible.”

Maeve quickly nodded and swept out of the room on slippered feet.

I couldn’t leave Elaria in the hands of Thorne, of all people. Was this dumpster fire my responsibility? Hell nah. But was I going to take it upon myself to fix things before I left? Yup.

My nosiness would be the death of me.

The carriage wheels groaned as we bumped along the uneven cobblestone path, the scent of soot and smoke thickening the further south we traveled.

As the Northern District faded behind us, its polished lanes, manicured hedges, and prying eyes were replaced by the grittier, darker soul of the Southern District, Elaria’s underbelly.

The home of misfits, criminals, and everyone too clever—or too desperate—to live above the surface.

Maeve sat across from me with her lips pressed into a tight line as she glanced out the carriage window. Discomfort and unease practically radiated off her.

“You know,” I began lightly, trying to ease her nerves, “you’re not going to catch a plague just by breathing the air here.”

She blinked and met my eyes with a faint grimace. “That is not comforting, my lady.”

I smirked. “It wasn’t intended to be.”

The carriage hit a rut and jolted violently.

I gripped the window frame and leaned out, my eyes narrowing as the familiar golden serpent coiled artfully around a velvet-painted pole came into view.

It hung above an arched entry of dark polished wood and gold-trimmed double doors.

The building rose three stories, its pale stone exterior elegantly detailed with sparkling windows.

The curtains were heavy crimson velvet trimmed with braided gold. Classy. Opulent, even.

“We’re here.”

Maeve sighed with audible reluctance. “Of course we are.”

As soon as the carriage rolled to a stop, I pushed the door open and climbed down before the driver could assist. The stone walkway that led to the brothel was cleaner than most places in the Southern District.

The Gilded Serpent might’ve been located in the wrong part of town, but it didn’t stoop to its surroundings.

This was luxury—lush, expensive, and guarded like a treasure hoard.

After a moment of hesitation, Maeve descended after me, glancing up at the golden serpent sign as it gleamed in the midday light.

“No one’s stupid enough to start something here,” I assured her. “You were the one who told me that.”

“I know, I know,” she mumbled.

“It’s well respected. Maybe feared. Though that depends who you ask, I guess.”

Damien once told me it wasn’t safe for noble women like me to come here. But Garrick had guaranteed our safety.

I stepped forward and pushed open the double doors.

The sultry aroma of spicy incense and perfume greeted us immediately.

Inside, the lighting was low and romantic, with soft golden hues that sparkled across polished marble floors and dark velvet lounges.

Silk drapes in jewel tones cascaded down from the high ceilings, and chandeliers glittered like lofty constellations overhead.

Despite the early hour, the air felt hushed and intimate—as if the walls had absorbed decades of secrets and knew better than to whisper them back.

At this hour, the place was quiet. No music, no laughter, no glimmering clientele. Just one man.

The warlock, Garrick.

He sat at a table near the center of the room, slouched in a plush velvet chair as if he owned it—or owed it something.

His hair was a tangled mess beneath a dark hood, and the patch covering his left eye—brown leather, frayed at the edges—stood out against his dusty green tunic.

Nothing he wore matched. His coat was a patched mess of indigo and rust-colored suede, one sleeve longer than the other. His scarf dragged on the floor.

He saw me and grinned. “Well, well! If it isn’t Her Royal Highness.”

I strode toward him, waving Maeve toward the side wall so she could keep watch in case any of the girls came out to listen. “You’re just jealous that I clean up better than you do.”

“You do polish up nicely.” He stood and offered a dramatic bow. “But I’d argue my outfit has more... character.”

“Your outfit has more fleas.”

His eye twinkled. “Fair point.”

I dropped into the seat across from him and crossed my arms on the table. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“You say that like I had a choice. You sent me a note with that surly old raven—What’s his name? Scowls like he hasn’t had a bowel movement since winter solstice.”

“Birch.”

“Right. Tell him he terrifies the children.”

“He terrifies me, and I like him.”

Garrick chuckled and took a sip from his mug. “So what’s the occasion, my lady? You looking to gamble, buy a hex, or just here for the ambiance?” He waved his hand around the fancy brothel.

“None of the above.” I hesitated for just a moment before leaning in. “I need information.”

He raised a brow. “Ominous. Shouldn’t you be worrying about the wedding? I’m sure the seer will be picking an auspicious day very soon.” He tilted his head expectantly.

I rolled my eyes. “The wedding’s been put on hold.”

Garrick blinked. “Seriously?”

I nodded, though I kept my lips pressed tightly together.

He shook his head, bewildered. “But everyone’s talking about it! ‘The Crown Prince and the Ryder Girl,’ and all that. I heard someone had already started stitching pillows with your initials. Monogrammed bedsheets. Embroidered towels.”

I grimaced. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was an exaggeration,” he remarked dryly. “What happened?”

I looked around, even though we were alone in the room except for Maeve. I leaned closer and dropped my voice to a whisper. “The emperor is dead.”

The one-eyed warlock froze and the amusement drained from his face like someone had opened a vein. His one good eye locked on mine, hard and unblinking. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

He sat back slowly, the chair creaking under his shifting weight. His fingers tapped the rim of his mug once... twice... before going still. “How?” he asked quietly.

“Officially, no one knows. He was found in his chambers. There were no obvious wounds and no signs of a struggle.”

Garrick didn’t speak for a long moment. His eye dropped to the gold-trimmed table, but he didn’t seem to see it.

“You alright?” I asked softly.

He didn’t look up. “You know what they call me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Garrick the Betrayer,” he muttered. “All because of that man—the emperor. Because I refused to play the role of his court lapdog. He took my eye. Battered my reputation. And the rest of the world... let it happen.”

“He’s an asshole, Garrick, and now he’s dead. He got what he deserved,” I said quietly.

Finally, he looked at me again. “You sure you’re not marrying into this mess?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

He huffed a laugh. “Honest. I like that.”

“Can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need.”

I reached into my coat and slid a folded parchment across the table. “Everything you can find on what happened in Dragon Valley over the last forty-eight hours. Who was there. Who was missing. I want names. Gossip. Ghost stories. I don’t care.”

He took the paper but didn’t unfold it. “That’s going to cost.”

“I figured.”

“And I’m not just talking coin.”

I arched a brow. “Then what?”

He leaned in, his grin returning with a hint of mischief. “A favor.”

I slowly exhaled. “I can’t imagine a gambler such as yourself wanting anything other than coin.”

“You’ve been milking this damn favor I’ve owed you for months. It’s about time you get a taste of it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“Precisely.”

I glared at him. “Fine. A favor. One .”

He winked. “Done.”

As he tucked the parchment into his coat, I carefully watched him.

Beneath the mismatched rags and playful barbs was something sharp and wounded.

Garrick wasn’t simply an unlucky warlock with debts—he was a man the empire had tried and failed to break.

And now, like me, he was about to become useful again.

I stood. “You’ll reach out when you have something?”

“You’ll be the first person I haunt.”

I smirked. “Good. I’m overdue for a ghost.”

“Speaking of ghosts…”

“Oh, lord.” I sighed, not sure if I was ready for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

Garrick laughed. “Word on the street is that the Shadow Prince is suppressing the Song of the Dragon Rider .”

I raised a brow. “Oh?”

He nodded. “In a move to get the public to stop talking about the twin flames, and more importantly to get you out of Thorne’s line of sight.”

I smiled and bit my lower lip. Of course Damien had a plan. I should have known he wouldn’t abandon me.

Garrick gagged. “By the Immortals, you’re so lovesick it’s pathetic!”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not in love.”

He deadpanned. “So you say.”

“I’m not!” I retorted, filled with indignation.

I couldn’t be in love. I’d only known Damien for what… two months? And for the majority of that time, we’d been at each other’s throats. I definitely wasn’t in love. Even if he did say he loved me. It probably just slipped out in the heat of the moment.

Yeah… definitely the heat of the moment.

“Whatever you say, princess,” Garrick said knowingly.

“I’m no princess.” I waggled a finger at him. “Get it right.”

“Sure, sure.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll find your information and get back to you. But for now, I have a game to get to.” He stood and offered a saucy wink.

I shook my head. “Some things never change with you, Garrick.” After waving goodbye, I nodded to Maeve and headed for the exit. The Gilded Serpent’s heavy doors shut with a whisper behind me.

Outside, the sun had dipped behind the clouds and long shadows angled over the stone streets. For the first time since the emperor’s death, the air felt colder. Like something had shifted beneath the surface.

Like something was coming.