Page 8 of To Sway a Prince (Tempting Thieves)

8

THE WALL

I had never seen a room like this in my life and yet some part of it felt familiar. Something in this place called to me like the distant memory of a comforting dream, just out of reach. The ceiling within arched up like a cathedral, the eight pillars that provided support along the walls connecting in an interconnected design that was impossible to carve without magic.

This was some sort of sanctuary. Two walls were nothing but shelves, one mostly filled with large elegant jars of sand. The other held the same vessels but a far smaller number, and these were all empty. A soft glow came from the ceiling though there was no particular source, and the air itself shimmered with energy and magic. I drew in a long breath, analyzing the layered scents. It was almost too much. Rich colognes, fragrant perfumes. When I focused, I could pick out some specifics: smoked myrrh, crushed starblooms, oiled leather, charred pine, jasmine nectar, and so much more.

My eyelids slid shut. Across my mind's eye played a whole ballroom of couples waltzing and mingling. A rune fae ball, so runes glimmered in the air, shimmering and changing colors with the music and the mood. Obsidian chimes hung at intervals, floating amid the runes. And the orchestra played all manner of traditional instruments including rune string harps, shatterdrums, and violins. All I could think for music though was a lullaby.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the sand-filled jars once more. Beautiful. Sacred. They were filled almost to the brim with swirls of two colors. Except for one near the bottom. It was just blue.

I picked it up to study it. It looked as if it had been made of something similar to sapphires and lapis lazuli. Despite the beauty of the shades of blue, it somehow felt plain and small next to the rest. Only half full.

The wall next to it held a crystal geode that reminded me of an amethyst cathedral, easily twice as tall as me. It hummed and vibrated softly, its voice soothing but easy to miss.

The other wall was filled with dozens of elegant glass vials, each one tall, flawless, and empty. One had been set apart. Something had been etched into the side of one glass jar set apart from the rest: Natoumai ahme vahre. I frowned a little, uncertain what that meant. It wasn't a language I recognized. That pang of curiosity twisted deeper. Thistledown was a day's flight from here, and they'd probably know what this said. But I didn't have time for that now.

My goal was to rescue Zephyrus. Of course, if I really wanted to agitate Ramiel, I could always mix the sands together.

Some part of me recoiled immediately at that thought. Unlike all the other things I had done, this could not be undone. And there was something…sacred about this place. Maybe I'd done that with my father's hourglass and the sandkeeper, but it wasn't appropriate here. I held the jar a little closer as I contemplated my situation. It really wasn't as simple as I had initially thought. It was almost nice to remember my family though. Something about Ramiel made me think of them. Maybe because he was rune fae too.

Family.

Polph. I couldn't do any of this anymore. Was I going to have to let him go?

Guilt and unease tightened my shoulders and gripped my heart. Maybe Ramiel was innocent in this. Or at least not the monstrous thief I'd thought him. I frowned. Some parts still didn't add up. But that didn't mean Ramiel was evil.

I couldn't even deny that protecting the Chasm was good. It had to be done, didn't it? In my years of travel, I'd never actually visited the Chasm, but I'd heard loosely of its dangers and the general belief in the Sentinels and the value of their work. Not that I'd expected it to be a single fae in a tower with a dozen dragons. It seemed…disproportionate. And this tower was clearly intended for many more. Prince of the Sentinels now seemed more like a mocking title than a real one.

Tilting the jar a little, I watched the sand slide along its side. The flecks were beautiful too. Those subtle changes in color. It smelled a little like Ramiel, the cedar stronger than the frosted silver. Warmth tightened in my chest and core. His scent was…far more pleasant than I wanted to admit. Sorcerer princes should smell like…brimstone and body odor and no sunshine. That had to be a rule somewhere.

My cheeks burning, I put my back to the wall, slid to the ground, and set the vial of blue sand next to me. There really was something soothing about it. Looking at it up close, I admired all the deep shades of blue, ranging from cobalt to the deepest shade of blue violet I'd ever seen. It reminded me of the sands in the hourglass my parents kept in the study. Dark green, made of little gemstone chips. Father said he'd made it after saving all the chips and dust from carving his first two thousand runestones. Mother always teased that he had chosen emeralds and malachite as his stones because they were considered the hardest for fashioning usable runestones. He loved the challenge. And whenever she said that, he flashed her a special smile that he saved just for her and said that's what made him fall for her.

Setting the jar down, I fixed my eyes on it, pretending that the gemstone sand was shifting like it did through my father's hourglass. A few tears slid down my cheeks. Something about this tower had me thinking so much about family.

I closed my eyes tight and drew in as deep a breath as I could manage. I missed them. My parents. My siblings. My cousins. Their faces flashed through my mind. Emotion built within me, longing and sorrow. Then Zephyrus appeared in my thought.

My heart clenched, breaths shallowing. What was I going to do? Even with all the unanswered questions, I knew that some part of Zephyrus wanted to be with these other dragons. He'd given me so many years. This binding spell…I pressed my hand over my chest. I'd figure out a solution. I had to. Even if that did mean letting him go.

Darkness surrounded me. I didn't know precisely when I fell asleep, only a vague awareness that I had. It started like always with a general sense of unease creeping up my spine. As I sat there with my back to the stone and my head to my knees, I reminded myself it was a dream. Just a dream. Nothing but a dream.

Still my heart raced faster.

Only a dream and yet it felt so real. A dream that could never be controlled or avoided.

That creeping, crawling dread crept through the darkness to swallow me whole or strangle me.

Dark clouds formed around me in rough shapes. Some human. Some dragon. Some creatures I couldn't even describe. Mockeries of the people I loved and connections long lost.

Yes. I was alone.

My heart ached as if it had been pierced.

It would pass. It always did.

This was only a dream.

A dream from which I'd eventually wake.

I would.

Please, let me wake.

Threads dark as drying blood shot out from the darkness and coiled around me. Oil and mud sucked at my feet as I sunk.

There was a thread in that darkness. A double-coiled thread with runes etched into it. The runes lit up, and I put out my hand.

I always did.

The thread shot around me, spinning over me as if I were a spindle. My soul wrenched, and I tried so hard to cry out. But it just tightened—tightened—tightened.

Closing my eyes, I pushed out my aura and my arms. Neither responded. There was nothing—nothing but thread and darkness. No consciousness. No will. Only silence. Silence and crushing pressure.

And I was…alone.

Something gripped my shoulders. I gasped, my eyes flying open as I found myself staring into a now familiar violet gaze.

"Astraia?"

Tears formed along the backs of my eyes, stinging. Awareness stabbed through me. A dozen thoughts tried to surface at once. My shoulder ached beneath the scar, throbbing as it usually did after these nightmares. I rubbed it, willing it to stop. Then I realized Ramiel was holding out his hand.

Tentatively, I accepted it. As I stood, I realized I was cradling the jar of blue sand. "I'm sorry." Though embarrassment wasn't usually something I suffered from, an unpleasant heat and shame stole over me.

"Are you all right?" He guided me up. His gaze drifted to the jar in the crook of my arm, but he did not seem angry or even troubled. Just…concerned. "Did the guest room not appeal to you?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. "Y-yes." I shook my head, my mouth dry. I moistened my lips. "No, I'm sure the guest room is fine. I'm all right. Just…fell asleep in here."

"I gave you my word I would not harm you," he said, the chiding in his voice far gentler than what I expected or even deserved. His hand lingered for a moment longer, his thumb half stroking or accidentally brushing against mine. Everything in me tightened, and I felt the cold all the more as soon as he released my hand. "Are you afraid of me, Astraia?"

"No." That I answered confidently, and my eyebrow lifted as if to underscore the point. I hadn't feared him from the start because I'd been so confident in my own abilities. But now…now I couldn't find even a scrap of fear within me when it came to him. I'd slipped so easily into treating him like an antagonistic family member. Somehow I did feel comfortable around him. "It was nothing against you. You have been nothing but courteous and welcoming. Far more than I expected."

"From a rune fae?"

"From the person who owns the tower I broke into. Especially if you didn't do anything to make Zephyrus go with you. I—I know you did something to me to make me sleep. And I am still not pleased with that. I would have rather you spoken with me and told me what was going on with Zephyrus and then showed me how he was willing to make this choice and that this was what he wanted." The words were bitter on my tongue, but I spoke them nonetheless.

His expression softened ever so slightly, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "I chose the course I did because it seemed like the best one. But I was wrong."

"I'm willing to do what's best for Zephyrus," I said. "I know he isn't mine. But you didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye and make peace. Why?" A strange sensation fluttered within my chest. Probably just because he was the first person I had talked to so closely in a long, long time. I hugged the jar tighter.

His eyes darkened, his gaze drifting momentarily to my lips and then back up. He stepped away. "I thought it would be easier. I was wrong."

"You really thought I'd give up looking for him? I'm ridiculously tenacious and quite petty. I would have hunted you down to the ends of this world and the next to soak your socks in slug oil if it would've taught you not to mess with someone who mattered to me."

"Yes." His nose wrinkled, the lines in his brow deepening. "I found what you did to the runestones. And my books. You do realize I have magic that allows me to assist in sorting everything with very little energy from myself."

"I knew it would be an inconvenience." That sense of shame stole over me once more. "I suppose…we both have made mistakes." I couldn't hate him right now. Especially not with him so near and that soft annoyance shining in his gaze. Or was that something else? "All I want is for Zephyrus to be safe. I want him to have a happy life. He's all the family I have left."

He tilted his head as he studied me through those half-shaded eyes. Stepping forward, he took the jar from me, his movements surprisingly gentle. "He's dear to you. You want to protect him. I respect and understand that," he said. "He and his kin are the same to me. I give you my word that if there is any way that I can prevent their harm, I will. While I cannot guarantee their protection, I swear to you that I will in no way be reckless with their lives or well-being." He set the jar back on the shelf. "Why did you choose this place to rest if I may ask?"

I shook my head, then answered simply. "I…felt like I was safe here. It was…comforting."

"It's a soothing place." He straightened his garments and offered me his hand. "I've found this place comforting since I was a child." His brow tweaked as his gaze moved along the shelves of jars with sand. "There are many memories in this place."

"What is it for?"

His jaw tightened. His tongue darted at his lips before he at last returned his focus to me. "Recognition of the sacred bonds."

The soft blue light highlighted the elegance and sharpness of his features. Those dark marks beneath his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep, suggesting that maybe he too needed a haven. How long had it been for him since he'd slept well? Perhaps decades. As with most fae, it was hard to tell just how old he was. Once we hit our twentieth year, most slowed significantly in the aging process. "How long have you been alone here?"

"I have Caein and the dragons," he said. "I am not truly alone."

I heard what was not said though. The heaviness of the meaning beneath those words, and that part of me sobbed in understanding. But all I did was nod.

A deep rumbling roar shook the foundations of the tower. Ramiel's hands flew at once to steady the jars. "The leviathan," he said, his voice grim. "He's breaching again."