“If you want to leave, just let me know,” she whispers.
But she doesn’t give me time to say that I would love to leave before she is off to join the dancing with Rom, so I trail Devin to the chessboard and we start a game. His first few moves show that he does know how to play well, and I lean forward on the table to study the pieces.
My mind wanders to Cyrus and what he might be doing right now.
Chapter 13
Cyrus
The night sky is exhilarating. Chilly. Bright with stars. Full of possibilities. I don’t feel like shifting, but I stretch my wings to the widest they can go within this version of me. The ground below blurs, and soon I’m back at the ruins.
I want to see what Kaya saw—a dragon shifter ghost.
Wind moans through the gate as I pass under the old, rusted portcullis that’s permanently stuck in a raised position.
“Hello?” I call out, feeling foolish. My wings shudder as if a part of me knows this is reckless. “I mean no disrespect. I’m a dragon shifter, and I would love to know more about my kin. About you.”
The courtyard holds a few dilapidated structures. I pass them quickly, keeping my head on a swivel, and I continue into the longer building that stands against the northern wall of the castle. This is where Kaya said she thought she saw me. The corridor is long and dark, only a thin film of starlight illuminating the ghostly place. A chill runs down my body, from my horns to my toes inside my boots.
“Seems like you might want some company in a cold place like this? Want me to start a fire? I could light up what’s left of that wagon in the courtyard?”
A grumble echoes down the corridor, and I force myself to keep walking.
“I wouldn’t bother you, but you see, I’ve never known any other dragon shifters. I know nothing about our past. Our rituals. Our fire. If you could guide me or teach me in some way, I’d be forever grateful.”
Although the place is indeed terribly creepy, a sense of belonging suffuses me. This is a place built by my kin. There are small details that reiterate that fact. The corridor is wide enough that I can stretch my wings out, at least in what Kaya calls my human-esque form. Dragon-head shaped windows look onto the courtyard—divots and curves carved into the stone openings give the appearance of a dragon’s horns and prominent cheekbones. I didn’t know until this minute that all dragon shifters must have the same facial structure as me. A smile tugs at my mouth.
A gust of cold air blasts me, then heat rises in front of me. Light shimmers in the dark and a form appears from the sparkling magic. My heart crashes against my ribs. The form has glittering black scales. Bright green eyes appear.
A dragon shifter ghost.
I move my mouth, but I can’t speak. The shifter’s wings shuffle and he points to a room off the corridor. The door is shut. I try the handle only to find it locked or possibly rusted shut. I test the doorknob again, but no luck.
“You want me to go in there?”
The ghost opens his jaw wide. I fall back a step. Ghostly flames pour from his mouth and engulf the door. The ground shakes, and I set a hand on the wall, my pulse pounding relentlessly against my temples.
The door cracks and disintegrates to nothing. Like it was never even there.
He faces me and gestures for me to enter the dark room. I do as ordered, checking to see if he’s following me.
“Do you know me? I can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time, and I’ve been clueless. Can I ask you some questions?”
He shakes his head and points to a torch on the wall. With a flare of his fingers—taloned fingers like mine!—he indicates I should light the torch. The thing is ancient, but it seems the tallow-soaked fabric remains and hasn’t crumbled to dust like so much of this place. The air is incredibly stale. I summon some flame from my chest and set the old torch on fire.
I turn to examine the room, but my gaze keeps going to the ghost. He scowls and opens his hand near one of the tall shelves that line the walls. Slanted desks sit in rows between the shelving, so I’m guessing this used to be the scribes’ room. Some wealthy lords and ladies still have rooms like this in their castles and palaces. Rustion even has a small version of this with one desk and his decent collection of history scrolls and agriculture books. He let me rummage around the place when I was first curious about my kind. I found nothing there, but this place, well, this is a dragon’s home. I bet it’s all here—every answer I’ve ever sought.
A wisp of blue-white light surrounds one scroll and scoots it from a high shelf. I freeze as the scroll floats toward me. I glance at the ghost, and he nods encouragingly.
I catch the scroll, then head to one of the scribe desks, roll it out with careful movements. The scent that rises from the parchment is musty. I nearly sneeze my arse off before I can go back to trying to make out the faintly inked words.
But they aren’t simply words.
It’s a map.
The river is the first thing I notice. It’s wide and labeledGreatheart River, but it takes a sharp turn past a mountain range just like our Leafshire River.
“Is this the river beside my town of Leafshire Cove?”
