Page 1 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

1

RESCUING A DRAGON

W asn't breaking into the Sentinel's tower supposed to be hard?

I shoved my hand into a crevice in the dark stone and hauled myself higher. The crisp night air caressed my face and tugged at my dark hood and cloak.

Rumors abounded that the Sentinels were weakening in power, the Chasm nearing implosion. But then some said that the sorcerer prince who lived in this tower was a cursed fiend with the heart of an ice spirit, a spoiled child who thought being the prince of the Sentinels was enough to allow him to get him whatever he wanted. I mean, in fairness, that last part was me and the people in the village of Irca agreeing with me after I learned who took my dragon. But they didn't disagree. And he certainly didn't seem to be loved. Most barely knew anything about him and his Sentinels, except that they were to be avoided and protecting the Chasm, though exceptionally dangerous, was crucial.

I pressed my body tighter against the cool stone. The winds picked up, fragrant with the sweet pleasant scents of lavender and moon fruit. The tower itself smelled of damp stone and runic magic, a cold scent like an oncoming storm. Ancient wards protected the perimeter, and this tower hummed and pulsed softly, vibrating deep into my marrow.

For anyone who didn't know magic, these glimmering wards might be enough to make them draw back. A pale-blue one spiderwebbed across the stone above me. Clear, well-constructed, and…easy to dismantle. Almost insultingly so. I'd always been a good knotweaver, especially when it came to undoing the central threads and spiraling away the strength of a well-formed ward or sigil. Few things other than Zephyrus brought me as much joy as seeing a vibrant bond slip out of that first knot, then the second, then the three all the way to the end.

But these—these were insultingly easy, and that didn't sit right with me. Ramiel or his minions had slipped into camp while I slept and stolen Zephyrus without waking me. I'd recognized the tang of magic on my tongue when I woke, a sweet but dark flavor like persimmons and plums. Whoever had done it had been sophisticated and skilled enough not to trip any of the guards I set up. Not even my aura had stirred as I slept. And that meant tremendous power.

So why these fluffy little nothing wards?

This one pulsed above my head like a ripe moon fruit, its natural light mirroring that of the moon above. Tendrils of mist curled around my boots as I reached higher. Hmmm, interesting. This ward was newer, the energy fresher. I didn't even need my blade to direct my focus. The tendrils came through, and those central threads came undone as easily as if they wanted to come apart.

Was it possible that because the Sentinels were neutrals they were prohibited from having certain kinds of guarding magic?

That didn't add up.

Shaking my head, I adjusted my grip and continued upward.

Even if this was a trap, I'd figure it out. If I got in too much of a jam, I'd pulseport back to the willow by the river where I'd left my few belongings, regroup, and return. But if all went well, I'd be riding Zephyrus out of here. He'd been my faithful companion and dearest friend since I was a girl. So many years together, and that giant scaly beast had never abandoned me once. I wasn't going to leave him in this forsaken tower on the edge of the Chasm.

I moved a little higher and tackled the next one. This too fell apart as easily as it if were simple string, the strands of energy vanishing as soon as that central thread pulled free.

My fingers twitched as I adjusted my grip on the stone.

Just a bit higher.

The broad stone ledge of the open window jutted out above me less than fifteen feet away. I made my way up. My fingers ached, and my calves cramped, my boots gripping and pressing against the stone in an awkward position. An easy enough climb, all things considered, and my unease grew with each moment.

Up, up, up I climbed. Two more wards suggested I depart, and I insisted they vanish, their knots giving way to my focus within seconds.

At last I reached the broad ledge of the windowsill. Another thicker ward hummed over the window space, angry and alive. It pulsed with its own life. I clicked my tongue at it and channeled my focus through my eyes and index finger, tracing the strands. My energy hiccupped at the knot point, curling around and struggling with three of the strands. I pressed harder against the stone with my left hand and reached for the pale gold blade fastened on my right.

Finally, a ward that was more of a challenge.

I scrunched my nose as I lifted the blade as if it were a wand. It might as well have been. It accomplished the same thing and was even halfway decent at stabbing people. For now though, I simply summoned my energy up and focused it at the point. It hummed through my veins and then shot out, almost invisible. The air wavered around its path, and the ward flickered. Two of the three strands came undone. Then the third. The caster's essence flared through it, sharp and cold with an undercurrent like white moonstone, frosted silver, and glacial petrichor.

My lips curved. Ramiel, probably. Whoever it was, he liked his spells with bite. It had a depth about it, similar to the dark sweet aftertaste of magic left in my mouth after the abduction. With skills like that, he could obviously have done something far worse. So…why make it so light?

My energy rippled along the blade. Though the central thread resisted at first, my aura pressed against it and forced it to reveal itself. A darker purple and blue against gold light. Runes flared against the stone behind the ward, but instead of activating something more sinister, the threads came undone. For a moment, the intricate pattern hung in the air like frost, then it vanished.

Knots take me, what was I missing?

I seized the stone ledge and swung myself up. The dark-blue wooden shutters had been pressed back quite some time ago if the faded paint and the cobwebs and bits of leaves clinging to them were any indication.

A stronger gust of wind surged around me as if to shove me inside. My golden hair snagged on the faded paint. Hissing, I caught hold of the errant strands. How annoying. Carefully, I tucked my hair back beneath my dark-blue hood and surveyed my surroundings.

I could see most of the chamber fairly well from this crouched position. The stone ledge opened into a room large enough for a dragon to fly out of. It was rather bare, just a simple wooden plank floor and dressed stone walls. Functional like a barracks. A single table occupied the space to my left. An ebony inkpot and a glass case with a quill as well as a simple paper box suggested this was an observation point of sorts. Upon closer investigation, I noted that talon marks scourged the wood at multiple points and some of the stone had been chipped a little. Probably just from landing or easing inside. If there had been an actual fight here, it would have been far worse.

Oddly enough though, there were no traps up here. Not even any wards. The only sigils present were a few that merged with runes in the walls, and those were all focused on health, strength, and rhythm. Ancient, yes. Like prayer stones that remind you to pray and give thanks.

I eased myself down and took it all in. The moon through the window cast eerie shadows across the tower floor. Though my ears strained, all I caught was the distant call of a dark blade owl, plaintive and lonesome. A floorboard started to shift under my boot, but I drew back at once. All the rest were far more secure, allowing me to remain silent. No wards here at all. Curious. Not even a sign of this prince.

Maybe he lived somewhere else. People said that the Chasm was a rift that led to places between the worlds. Maybe he had another home somewhere else.

A chill pulsed through me. What if he had taken Zephyrus with him?

Swallowing hard, I shook my head. No, no, Zephyrus was here. I knew it. And I'd never been wrong about where Zephyrus was.

I slipped up to the wall and continued forward, gold blade tight in my right hand as I pressed my aura out in search of any kind of threat.

There. Not a threat. A staircase. It was behind a thick hickory door. The stairs curved down into darkness. My eyes adjusted swiftly, moving between the moonlit night to the close darkness of the stairwell. Steps silent, I made my way down deeper and deeper, counting each step as I went, nerves tense and aware. Thirty-nine, forty—there!

I lifted my head, breathing in deeper. Yes, there! I caught that familiar earthy, fiery scent: Zephyrus!

Willing myself to remain cautious, I continued down, ever downward. The air thickened. The sentinel's magic bit into my senses as well, proof that he had been here as well and recently. It wasn't as ancient as some of the wards, but the undercurrent was the same. He was blood to whoever had cast the originals. He was also colder, angrier, and bitter if I read the remnants of his magic properly. I hoped he was somewhere in the Chasm.

The warmth intensified as I went lower. Deep grunts and low growls as well as heavy thumps punctuated the silence. Something stirred down here, and while Zephyrus's scent grew stronger, other scents took over. This staircase was large enough for him to come down, and there wasn't evidence of a struggle. Perhaps Ramiel had used an enchantment to keep Zephyrus compliant.

Then I reached the bottom. A door halted my progress, but already I caught new smells. A charred scent with undertones of smoke, leather, and sweet hay filled my nostrils, and a sharp mineral-rich flavor stung my tongue. Several dragons were down here. Those low rumbles suggested snores.

Pressing my hand to the door, I eased it open and peaked inside. A massive chamber—perhaps a dungeon—spread out before me, lined with what looked like iron-barred cells. My heart clenched, my fingers curling into fists as I searched for any sign of danger. I'd found the dragons, all right. But…what was going on here?

The bars were spaced wide enough for a dragon's head to slip through. Thick cushions of straw and scraps of fur and fabric spilled across stone floors. No signs of waste or neglect either. Each cell contained a large feeding trough. A few had dragged out the bones of their most recent meal, leaving bloody carcasses. Nothing rotted either. All fresh and bloody as if they had just been fed hours ago.

A deep blue-green dragon's tail curled out between the bars of one cell, flicking in sleep like a cat's. Another cell held a pearly-blue scaled beast whose snores echoed off the stone especially loud and made the water in its trough vibrate. I counted at least six dragons, all more peaceful than any I'd seen elsewhere. And there was still more to the stable.

I couldn't quite place what magic had accomplished this. Dragons were wary creatures. Even in family packs, at least one always remained on guard. But all slept here. That either meant they had been enchanted or another protector watched over them. Someone they trusted as much as blood. The latter seemed far more likely.

Zephyrus wouldn't be sleeping, of course. Based on his size and the patterns of his scales, he was older than some of the nations we traveled through, and you didn't get to be as big and powerful as him without being constantly on guard. Each night when I tucked in beside him, he slept with one eye half open.

Pursing my lips, I whistled a couple low bars. It was a mimic of the throaty call he made when looking for me. But no answer came back. The dragons continued to snore. Stepping farther in, I whistled once more.

Only snores and grunts greeted me.

Hand still gripping my blade, I continued into the dungeon. Still no sign of guards or attendants or anyone. No wards here either. Only the same runes and sigils, providing encouragement for health, strength, and stability. If there was anything else here, the caster had been especially good at masking them.

I took a few paces farther in. My heart leaped. There he was!

Zephyrus lay curled in one of the larger cells near the back, his dark-blue scales catching the torchlight. His massive head rested on his forelegs, eyes closed. Steam rose from his slanted nostrils. Not a mark or scratch marred his hide. No chains bound him. No signs of struggle or resistance scarred the stones around him.

Relief flooded through me at seeing him unharmed, but alarm quickly followed. Why was he here, sleeping so contentedly? Why hadn't he tried to escape? The Zephyrus I knew would never willingly stay caged, no matter how comfortable. He had to be drugged or enchanted. Or both.

A low rumble vibrated through the chamber as one of the other dragons shifted in its sleep. I needed to wake Zephyrus and get him out of here before anyone realized I'd broken in. But first I had to figure out what kind of enchantment held him so docile. I couldn't catch anything specific about it. Even as I reached out with my aura, nothing changed. Would he even recognize me?

I whistled once more, a little louder this time.

Zephyrus grunted, a stronger blast of steam searing from his nostrils as his pointed ears twitched. His horned eyelids fluttering open. His amber eyes were calm. A low purr rumbled through his chest as he cocked his head. With a deeper, lower growl, he stretched out like a cat, his claws scraping over the stone.

"What's going on?" I whispered, moving closer to the bars. He had only been this relaxed once or twice in the past, and that was when we were in the abandoned dragon tower or with two other riders.

He stretched his neck forward, nudging his snout at the gap. If he wanted, he could put his whole head through. He purred louder.

Tentatively, I placed my palm against his jaw. No signs of injury or distress marked his hide. His eyes were clear and alert, showing no signs of enchantment. No commands had been bound into his scales either.

Knots take me, I didn't like this. I was missing something. Part of me half expected to see Ramiel staring at me from the darkness, eyes glowing, magical energy pulsing.

I scanned the chamber again, more thoroughly this time. The torches burned steadily, no flickering that might hide motion-triggered wards or proximity sigils. The floor showed no trace of spell circles or runes. Even the ceiling, often a favorite place for trap-makers to hide their work, held nothing but smooth stone and iron brackets for the braziers. Some sort of mechanism suggested that the ceiling could be opened at the center of the dungeon.

Zephyrus bumped my shoulder with his snout, nearly knocking me over. His tail swished back and forth across the straw-covered floor of his cell—a gesture I knew well. He was...happy? Content even?

"I don't understand." I ran my fingers along his thick neck and then over onto the bars. Still nothing. Only iron. "You could break these easily. Why are you still here? You wouldn't abandon me, would you, Zephyrus?"

He drew back slightly, tilting his head in that way he did when I was missing something obvious. Another dragon snorted in its sleep nearby, sending a puff of smoke curling toward the ceiling.

Nothing made sense. The minimal security, the well-fed dragons, the cleanliness of the cells, Zephyrus's calm demeanor - this wasn't a prison.

That didn't mean it was safe for me. My gut clenched. My nerves tightened. I needed to get us out of here and fast.

His cell was deep, the gaps between the bars wide enough for me to slide through with ease. A dark, empty doorway was situated in the back. No. I wasn't going back through there. We'd go up through the staircase to the observation room.

A heavy iron lock secured his door. It too seemed completely ordinary, no magical signature or sigil work. Strange.

I sheathed my blade, pressed my hands together, and summoned an intricate series of knotted threads to press out through my aura, a small veil that enhanced my awareness, similar in form to a knotted shield but focused more on analyzing the points of contact with each knot and whatever touched the threads. I draped the magical web over the lock. It passed through easily, highlighting the tumblers.

Straightforward. Unprotected.

That was…very unusual. I didn't like it.

I slipped my fingers into my pocket and removed my lock picks. With care, I inserted the tension wrench and worked the pins.

An odd scent struck me. Sharp, cold, bitter. Thread rot! How had he managed that? I tried to counter.

It was too late.

Cold metal snaked around my ankles. The world twisted upside down. My picks clattered to the floor as more chains wrapped around my arms and torso, suspending me from the ceiling.

Blood rushed to my head as I dangled there, my hood falling away and my hair tumbling free. "Polph!"