7

Talon

Three days after arriving at Dragon Castle, I receive a report that the kraken empyreal has appeared off the coast of Dragon lands. It is churning the waves and occasionally destroying a pier, chasing off fish and ruining the livelihood of Dragon fishing villages.

I intend to see to it myself, driving it off if necessary, but first I need to interrogate Aunt Aurora. The problem is that she has yet to wake up.

“This has never happened to me before,” Finn protested the fifth time I asked him what was wrong. “I did everything the same way. She should have woken up naturally. That’s always how it’s worked. You remember when we brought that damned Barb to Phoenix Crest, I had to put her back to sleep every six hours.”

I accepted it, but we can’t wait any longer. I sent a letter to Darling and Vivian at Furial, asking to set a meeting soon—at their convenience. I need to have as many answers as possible by the time I hear back. We’ve still no word of the kraken, sphinx, or cockatrice empyreals. When I look for them with my unreliable boon, I only see blurry images. Elias agrees it’s likely I can’t easily see someone I don’t know personally. Given time, I might train my boon to find people I have no trace of, but for now, it’s too hard on my body to keep giving myself fevers and headaches.

Today I’ve dragged Finn to the dungeon with me. He’s going to try to wake Aurora up.

We’ve got Annag Mortooth and a handful of Teeth and castle guards with us as we descend into the mountain. The air smells of wet stone and smoke. The narrow corridors should be lit with boonlights, but we’ve resorted to torches and candles while so many boons are volatile—even basic light boons. A Dragon with such a boon exploded the stairs in one of the west wings of the castle yesterday, merely trying to light a chandelier. He’s alive, but concussed. There’s significant damage to that level’s infrastructure.

Aurora’s cell door shrieks as Annag unlocks it with a key on her belt. We file in, just the three of us.

My aunt sleeps on a cot in the wrinkled dress she drenched in the Phoenix Blood River. Her tangled blond hair flares across the threadbare pillow. She has water and a bucket should she wake, a single chair, and nothing else.

Annag brings in a handful of candles and lights them from the torch outside the cell, sticking them on the two stone shelves on either side of the door. It’s dark, but it will have to do.

“Be ready,” I warn Finn as I scoop Aurora up against me and carry her the two steps to the chair. I put her down with more gentleness than she deserves and let her head loll back. Finn stands behind her.

Aurora hasn’t awoken.

Finn puts a hand on her hair, a hand on her shoulder. He closes his eyes. We wait.

In the flickering light, my aunt looks young, abused, and vulnerable. I clench my jaw and refuse to feel pity or sympathy. She raised me, loved me, and lied to me for my whole life.

Nothing happens for a long moment. Finn frowns. His eyes move behind his lids, as if he’s looking for something—or dreaming himself.

Aunt Aurora’s entire body jerks.

Finn’s eyes snap open. “Chaos,” he whispers. “I think … I think I saw her dreams.”

At the hushed tone, I brace myself.

Annag says, “Sweet Chaos.”

“What did you see?”

“Blood,” he says softly, staring at Aurora’s head like he can still see into it. “I’m not unfamiliar with violence, but this was … It felt good. I felt powerful, and I saw her killing people. And animals. I saw her kill Darvey, Talon.” Finn’s face blanches as he makes an awful grimace. His scar on his cheek stands out like a crooked worm. “His … she took his heart.”

Like she did to Leonetti remains unspoken.

My skin goes cold. I lower my gaze from Finn to my aunt, and I step closer, hand going to the hilt of my falchion. I should drive it through her neck right now. Stop her before she wakes, Chaos take her information. She won’t help us.

“Yes,” Finn hisses, sensing my intent.

But I stop, clenching the grip of my blade. I can’t. She betrayed me, but she murdered Leonetti Seabreak right before my eyes. Justice belongs to House Kraken, and Darling.

Aurora groans softly. Her head lifts.

Finn has a knife at her throat instantly. Aurora’s eyes flutter open; she gasps.

“Aurora,” I say in my hardest voice. “That is a blade at your throat, and the hand at your shoulder can push you into sleep again in an instant. Here with me is Annag Mortooth, who is immune to your boon.”

Aurora looks at me. “Talon,” she croaks. She winces and swallows.

“The moment Finn or Annag even suspect you might be influencing me, they will act, and you will be asleep again—if you’re lucky. Then gagged and bound until your execution. Do you understand?”

Her vivid blue eyes water, but Aurora nods.

“Good. Now.” I crouch in front of her, elbows on my knees, and glance up. “Tell me about blood magic.”

Aurora frowns, a cute expression she uses to pretend confusion. “What about it, nephew?” she asks, sounding helpless.

“You know what happened at House Barghest? About the return of the empyreals?” I know she has. The soldiers she persuaded with her boon to help her escape gave complete confessions. I want to know if Aurora will admit it.

“I heard,” she says. Good.

“What does blood magic have to do with the empyreals?”

Aurora laughs softly. “I see.” She sounds normal already, despite her filthy gown, the blade at her throat, and the eager Dragon behind her.

“Answer me, Aurora.”

“Why should I?” Her eyes flash. “If you’re going to execute me, why?”

“It’s the right thing to do,” I snap. “Our world has been given over to Chaos, and we don’t know why, or how to fix anything. Blood magic has everything to do with whatever’s happened. You’re my family—a Dragon! If you care at all for that, for me, for anything you ever said to make me think you weren’t a depraved villain, give me answers!”

Aurora is silent. She studies me.

Finn shifts behind her, but I ignore it to focus on my aunt. I can’t have feelings about this, but I loved her. I trusted her! I let my fury and grief show, until my eyes burn with tears. Then I bare my teeth at her. “You’re alone,” I choke out. “If you don’t want to die alone, answer me, Aurora.”

My voice breaks on her name.

Aurora sighs. She blinks back tears of her own; I wish I believed them. “There is a cavern below this castle, little dragon,” she says. “And the private study of a blood mage. A long time ago, that blood mage, a Dragon regent, and a squid worked to suppress Chaos. We were held back by the phoenixes, oppressed by their power. It was time to break the ancient promises of the empyreals, the reign of the phoenix, and so our ancestors made it so.”

“Impossible,” Finn says. “Dragons and Krakens don’t work together.”

“That’s what you question?” Aurora rolls her eyes up toward him.

“What did they do?” I interrupt. I’ll worry about what I believe later. We already knew our great-grandmother was responsible for the murder of the Last Phoenix.

“A massive blood array. It was complex.”

“Explain it to me in little words.”

Aurora narrowed her eyes. “I spent your whole life learning to wield blood magic. Most of my notes and the books I’ve managed to gather are locked behind a trap in my office in Phoenix Crest. Unless you can bring me there, I have little to offer.”

“I cannot. Try harder to explain.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want to, but I’m afraid blood magic on the surface is simple: one uses blood to add power to sigils, arrays, and spells—blood that opens gates directly to Chaos. I simply invoked Chaos I otherwise had no access to. Blood magic is a great equalizer, Talon.”

“That’s what you call what you did to Leonetti Seabreak?” I stand. “It was disgusting and cowardly, Aurora. Not the work of a Dragon. He was my prisoner, a father, a leader! Not a—a chicken to slaughter for your soup.”

Aurora shrugs, but Finn presses on her shoulder, and she glares. “He was a necessary casualty. I remember what I saw, Talon. Tell me, is Caspian dead? Did your Darling betray you, too? Is that why you’re truly so upset? She kissed your brother and he died, in my vision. My true vision.”

I swallow. I don’t let myself look away from her. “Your vision was not true,” I say. “They kissed, but they didn’t die. Caspian flies wild in the mountains now, a newborn dragon empyreal. And Darling?” I lean closer to my aunt. “Darling is the Phoenix Reborn.”

Aunt Aurora gasps. “No.”

“Yes. Tell me how to get to this cavern under the castle.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Aurora says. “Talon, stay here, keep talking to me. You can’t leave me—”

Suddenly Aurora slumps, passed out.

I blink.

Finn withdraws his knife. “She can’t say things like that. Commands, imperatives.”

“I … yes.” I nod. “You’re right.”

Finn hauls the unconscious Aurora to the cot. He wipes his hands on his jacket. I haven’t moved, staring at her, my mind whirling.

I wonder if I can use my boon to trace a hidden door or find a cavern. “I need to find this cave.”

Annag smiles grimly. “I have an idea where to begin.”

Annag has lived in this castle for all forty-some years of her life, worked in it and loved it, and for at least a decade has ruled it in the stead of the absent Dragon regent. Every report of someone going missing, of strangely cold rooms, or of drafts that cannot be found and stopped, eventually find their way to her. Annag easily suspects the best place to find a secret or ancient passage in the bowels of Dragon Castle.

Once we’ve re-secured Aurora, Annag leads us into the cellars. There’s a particular storage room they stopped using in her mother’s time because food spoiled or froze, or people vanished when seeking this or that supply. The shelves are rotting in place, with nothing stored there any longer. The ceiling is bare rock, and the walls seem to be the same.

I stand in the middle of the room and open my boon. Finn curses softly behind me, and grips my shoulder.

Instead of tracing a door or passageway I’ve never seen—that might not work, because it never has in the past—I recall Aurora’s trace. I imagine her standing before me, walking to the mechanism or handle, whatever it is that reveals the passageway.

My body heats. Like a flush of embarrassment or shame. I embrace it, allow it to happen. The pain follows, spiking my skull. I hate that my boon is so unreliable. It’s like losing my sword hand but needing my blade.

Chaos tears at me, in popping bubbles: Aurora, younger, a bloody hand, the wall pushing back, someone I don’t know falling through the wall, closed in, trapped, Aurora again, rushing out from the dark corner, panicked, and then—then—

I open my eyes and I walk directly for the far corner, and I hit one stone in the wall. It aches up my arm, but the wall groans. A door appears. I step forward, but someone catches my arm.

“Talon, you’re sweating; your cheeks are pink,” Finn says, his grip bruising.

“I have to follow it.” I pull free. “Stay here and hold the door open. People have been trapped before.”

“Talon—”

“Do it!” An unfamiliar rage heightens my voice.

Finn falls back. Behind him, Annag’s face is a pale, floating ghost.

I turn and follow the dark passage, assuming they will wait for me.

It cuts down sharply, the walls rough, wet, cold. The air grows colder and wetter as I descend. I can’t see anything, but I continue. One step, then another.

Finally it opens into a dim cavern. There’s the quiet lapping of water on a bank, and my eyes drink in dim light. I have no idea how it exists here, the light. I see a broad black lake, still as a mirror. It should either be still and silent, or rippling, but not both.

Across from me is a broken altar.

I stand and stare, but am unbalanced. I should go back and get Finn. Anyone else. People with torches or boonlights. Elias might know what to think of this place.

Instead I continue walking.

I walk around the edge of the lake, pulled by something inside me. My boon, or Chaos itself, I cannot say.

Near the opposite bank is an arched doorway, and through it, a tidy room caught up in dust and mildew. A study, recently cared for and organized. Desk, chair, bookshelves with ordered books. Nothing on the floor but puddles of water and tattered remains of nests.

On the desk is a candlestick, a quill, and a single book.

I walk to it and pick it up. It smells like tempered iron and leather.

Cradling it in one hand, I turn open the binding. On the first page it reads,

This journal belongs to the blood.