Drogonny Bloodmoor's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The iron key turned, and the servants' gate swung open. Drogonny Bloodmoor stepped through into the king's domain. Catrina Nighthorror walked beside him, her gold and red gown brushing the stone. She was the princess he had come to use against her father, and now he had to trust her with his life. He did not know yet if he could. Guards stood everywhere. Two flanked the great black gate, where blue crystals glowed and gold dripped down the dark stone. Stone demons crouched on either side, watching with carved eyes. The guards watched too. They studied every servant, every shadow, every face that passed. Drogonny kept his hood low. His black and red hair hid under the cloth. One wrong glance and the doubled watch would know a demon walked among them. He looked at Catrina. He searched her face for the small tells of betrayal. Was this the trap behind the trap? She caught his stare and did not flinch. "Keep your eyes down," she whispered. "You stare like a man who doesn't belong." "I'm checking whether you do," he said. She took his arm, firm, and pulled him into step beside her. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have let the fire take you." She nodded at the nearest guard. "Smile. Carry the basket. You're a servant hauling wine to my rooms." A guard stepped into their path. He looked Drogonny over, slow. "I don't know this one." Drogonny's hand drifted toward his blade. Catrina's grip tightened, stopping him. "He's new," she said. Her voice turned cold and royal. "My father hired more hands when he doubled your watch. Or do you question the king's orders now?" The guard's face went pale. He stepped back and bowed his head. "Forgive me, Princess." They walked on. Drogonny's pulse slammed. She had not sold him. She had used her name as a shield and spent it on him. That was proof no words could give. Past a courtyard, an old willow grew against the inner wall. Its bark was black, veined with gold, wrapped in red vines. A face formed in the trunk, eyes half open, as if the tree watched them too. Catrina pulled him into its shadow and stopped. "The king sleeps past that hall," she said. "The crown never leaves his head, even in sleep. To take the throne, you take the crown." Drogonny stared at her a long moment. The doubt in his chest went quiet. "I trust you," he said. He meant it. Catrina's black eyes glowed red. "Good. Because now there's no gate behind us." She pointed down the hall. "My father wakes at the third bell. We have until then to reach his chamber. After that, every guard in the castle hunts us both." The bell tower loomed ahead. Drogonny counted. One bell had already rung.