Draygon Frost | Book 1 | ✔️

Chapter Twenty

The king stopped walking and turned to the tunnel where Siobhan hid. She pulled her head back, pressing herself tight to the wall, closing her eyes. Siobhan didn't dare breathe or move, hoping he didn't see her. Aside from the wind howling, the room was soundless. If the king moved toward her, she didn't know. Even the voice hissing in her mind had stopped the moment she reached the new room. Worms crawled over her fingers as they dug into the soil. Siobhan wished she'd thought to pull her staff back out when she left Wren behind at the pods. The king wasn't a fighter, taking him out would be an easy task.

After a long moment of silence, she carefully peered back around the corner. The king was gone. Her feet dragged against the soil as she walked toward the opening with the stairs. She looked up the stairwell that had no end, still wondering where the wind was coming from. Did it lead to outside? If so, how did the king come from there without an entourage of guards around him? She set one foot on the bottom step, ready to climb to her freedom when her muscles tightened again.

Welcome, Siobhan.

Siobhan looked behind her at the bars still covered with shadow. Wind swept by her as if caressing her ears, blowing her hair in her face. She pulled the unruly strands away and held them back with one hand.

"Who's there?"

I'm so glad you could join me.

Her muscles twitched and her skin sung as if pricked by a thousand needles. Breaths labored in her chest, her body swayed like caught on a boat in the middle of the sea. Even swallowing became difficult, her throat drying with every gasp. One leg dragged against the ground, followed by the other. Siobhan didn't want to walk. Not that way. She wanted to climb the stairs in hope of freedom. Closer to the bars she moved, the pull on her skin strengthened.

Don't be shy.

Her hands curled around two of the bars. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to the metal. It burned against her skin. A wheeze pushed with her breathe, her heart pounded.

"Who are you?"

You know who I am.

Siobhan closed her eyes. A growl rolled through the room, vibrating the bars. Wind pulled at her hair and clothes, contrasting against the burn radiating from the bars. Never in her life had she felt such a sensation twisting through her. When it came to the Draygon, only the Witches of Drakewood had stronger power, but even they couldn't make her feel like she would explode at the snap of a finger. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness.

Have you not heard the legends of your people? How they came to be, why they came to be.

"Of course I have. Every Draygon knows their history."

Then you know.

Yet she didn't know. Legends told of a creature that once could get into the heads of any and control their will the way the bracelets controlled the mages. But that was just a legend, a story told to the children of her people along the lines of the man who'd kidnap children who didn't listen to their parents, or the elf who'd bring presents to every house on the birth of a new year.

Siobhan tried to remove her hands from the bars. She twisted her body and pushed both feet against them. Neither hand released. A growl rumbled in her throat as she pushed with all her strength. Both calves burned, the muscles in her legs ached. Laughter bore through her head. Finally, her hands released. Siobhan tumbled backwards and lay in the soil, gasping.

"Get the hell out of my head!" she screamed. She rolled on her side, growling at the shadow, barring her fangs. Her hand pointed toward the bars. Fog drifted over her fingers as frost grew on the metal, rising from the ground to the ceiling. Ice filled the gaps between each bar, separating her from whatever lurked in the shadows.