Chapter 30
A low whistling woke Ursula. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She no longer sat against the cold stone of the cliff face. Instead, she lay in a soft bed, under layers of thick blankets. Only the air on her face still had the bite of winter. As she surveyed the room, she could see that it appeared to be carved from ice. The ice walls ranged from a blue-lavender near the ceiling to darker teals and ultramarines near the floor. For a moment, she thought she might have fallen into a glacial cave, but as she studied the walls, she could see deep gouges and scratches in the ice. This cave had been carved.
“You’re awake?” A low, female voice.
Ursula turned her head to find a woman seated on a small chair near the stove. Her gleaming white hair hung to her shoulders in neat braids. She faced away from Ursula, watching steam rise from a tea kettle. This apparently was the source of the whistling that had woken her.
Ursula struggled to sit up, discovering that her hands were wrapped in rags so thick they looked like boxing gloves. So I wasn’t dreaming. “What have you done to my hands?”
“Your fingers were nearly frozen when I found you. The bandages are to protect them. Would you like some tea?” Slowly, she turned to face Ursula.
Ursula’s stomach clenched. The woman’s skin was so pale as to be nearly translucent, and was marred by a blood-red scar that sliced from forehead to cheek. She looked at Ursula through a single, glacier-blue eye. She hadn’t noticed that before, when she’d briefly woken from her sleep.
“Wh-where am I? Where is Bael?” stammered Ursula.
“The demon?”
“Yes.”
“He’s fine.” The woman frowned for a moment. “You must be Ursula, then?”
“How do you know my name?”
“The demon is wandering around in the snow, calling your name.”
Ursula’s chest tightened. “He’s still out there? Is he okay? He was hit by the avalanche.” Her breath caught as she waited for the woman to respond.
“He was swept down the mountain, but he’s otherwise unharmed. He’s a strong one.” The woman crossed to Ursula, holding a steaming cup of tea between delicate fingers.
Ursula took it from her, breathing in the scent of chamomile and lavender. Without hesitating, she took a small sip. It tasted as delicious as it smelled. “How did I end up here?”
“In my cave? I saw the flames as you tried to warm yourself. It’s not often that a follower of the fire goddess wanders into my domain.”
“Your domain? Who are you?” But Ursula realized she already knew the answer. The gouged-out walls, the woman’s pale complexion. She’d found the White Dragon. Or rather, the White Dragon had found her.
“I can see from your face you’ve figured it out on your own,” said the woman. “You may call me Grisial.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were real. I’d heard stories…”
“Oh, I’m very much real.” Grisial leaned over the bed to stare at Ursula with her single eye. “Why are you here?”
“I need your help.”
“Why?”
“Lucius has Excalibur.”
“So?” said Grisial, leaning back on her haunches. “The sword has always been his.”
“I need it to defeat the Darkling, or he’s going to take over the world.”
“And you think I’m going to help you get it from him?” Grisial started to stand and turn away.
Ursula pushed herself up, and spoke as forcefully as she dared. “You are the only one who can defeat Lucius.”
“No. I will not help you—I cannot help you.” Grisial backed away from her.
“Why?”
“Because I value my life. Just as you should value yours.” Genuine fear trembled in Grisial’s voice. “Lucius cannot be defeated if he holds the blade.”
“But you defeated him...”
“And look what it cost me,” said Grisial, pointing to her blind eye.
“Lucius did that?”
Grisial nodded, pain etched in her features.
“So I came all the way here. Nearly dying—”
“You’d be dead if I hadn’t saved you,” Grisial pointed out.
“And you’re telling me that you can’t help.” Frustration simmered in her chest, building to something like anger. “You don’t understand. If the Darkling comes to earth and enacts his plan, we’ll all be dead. You need to fight Lucius. You’re the only one who can help.”
Grisial stared at Ursula with a deep sadness in her eye. “I didn’t defeat Lucius. Lucius was in love with me. He let me win.”
“I don’t understand. He ripped your eye out, then let you win?” Ursula sat back on the bed, stunned. “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”
Grisial sighed. “Female dragons are very rare. I was the first born in a thousand years. As his right, as Drake, Lucius claimed me as his. He raised me in his harem, hidden and separate from the other dragons. I didn’t know what I was, and he didn’t tell me. He wanted to keep me as his own.”
Ursula’s lip curled. “So he kept you as a slave.”
Grisial shook her head vigorously. “Not exactly. He didn’t lay a finger on me. I think he hoped I’d fall in love with him. It didn’t happen that way. I fell in love with one of his guards, Ben. Ben told me what I was. He showed me how to transform into my dragon form. When Lucius found out…” Grisial heaved a sob. “He killed Ben. I tried to fight him. You can see what he did to me. It wasn’t so much that I defeated him as I managed not to die.”
Grisial looked so forlorn, so vulnerable, that Ursula nearly gave her a hug. This was not what Ursula had expected of the White Dragon. “Well, he stole Excalibur from me, so apparently I made his power worse.”
Grisial’s eye widened. “Lady Viviane gave you the sword?”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t lying about the Darkling. Sit still.” Grisial moved closer to Ursula, standing just in front of her. Gently, she placed her fingers on Ursula’s temples. She closed her eye, concentrating. After a few moments, she pulled away.
“Who are you?” Grisial’s voice sounded worried—sharp.
“I’m Ursula Anne Thurlow,” said Ursula, remembering the name her grandfather had told her.
“No, I mean who are you?”
“That’s all I know. I lost all my memories of my childhood. They called me the mystery girl in London.”
Grisial crossed her arms over her chest. “Why should I trust you if you don’t know who you are?”
“My grandfather is the head of the king’s guards.”
Grisial sucked in a sharp breath. “Your mother is the queen killer?”
“That’s me. I don’t remember her at all. I think someone magically wiped my memories.”
Grisial shook her head. “That’s impossible. I know of no magic that can erase memories.”
Ursula held out her hands, palms up. “But I can’t remember anything.”
“Then try harder,” Grisial snapped.
“It won’t work,” said Ursula with a frustrated sigh. “I saw a million psychologists back in London. I was hypnotized, fed special diets, but none of it could help me recall anything.”
“That’s because you didn’t want to remember.”
Ursula frowned. “What do you mean?”
“When Lucius killed Ben, I completely lost it. I attacked Lucius. Spilled his blood. At first, I remembered none of it. It was like one moment Ben was dying, and the next I was here on Mount Acidale.”
“So how do you know what happened?”
Grisial laced her fingers together. “I kept going back to the last thing I saw.” She shook her head at the memory. “It was awful—Ben bleeding on the floor—but I forced myself to push past it. To recall what I did next.”
“That won’t work for me. I don’t remember anything before I arrived in London. There’s no ‘last thing’—it’s just blackness, then waking up in a burnt-out church in London. To be honest, I hardly remember the church, just the hosp
ital after.”
Grisial thought for a long while before speaking. “I think you start with your last memory, even if it is the hospital, then work backward.”
“If I can tell you more about my past, will you help us get Excalibur?”
“Maybe.”
Well, it doesn’t look like I have any other options. Ursula closed her eyes. She concentrated on the moment her eyes opened in the Royal London Hospital.
“Focus on the minutiae,” said Grisial. “The details will help place you in your memory.”
Ursula summoned up the memory of the hospital room, the rough cotton sheets, the beeping of the heart monitor, the dueling scents of antiseptic and floral arrangements…and the moment she opened her eyes. Then she focused on earlier, when the firefighter pulled her from the rubble.
“I remember the firefighter,” she said excitedly.
“Good,” said the White Dragon. “Now go further back.”
Ursula closed her eyes again. Slowly, the firefighter came back into focus. Her head on his shoulder. The acrid smell of smoke in the air. He moved backward, and she realized her memory was like a movie in reverse, watching the firefighter carry her in slow motion back into the flames. Pieces of a shattered beam rose from the floor until no longer broken, and they fitted themselves into the ceiling. Smoke and fire surrounded her. She couldn’t breathe.
She opened her eyes, sucking deep breaths. Panic roiled within her.
“Is it working?” asked Grisial.
“I think so. I could see the firefighter carrying me.”
“Good. Now try again. Further back.”
Ursula closed her eyes, and the smell of smoke curled into her nostrils. She could taste ash on her tongue. The firefighter carried her deeper into the flames, moving backward. Heat seared her skin. Her heart raced. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground. As she descended, she could see the outline of a sigil on the floor. The firefighter straightened. Then he began backing away, disappearing into the flames. She was alone. An inferno raged around her.
Ursula curled her legs inward, so that her knees touched her chest. Her eyes closed, and the memory skipped.
She was standing outside now. On top of a castle wall, maybe. A row of stone crenellations rose in front of her, and flames licked about her feet. Emerazel’s sigil. She could hear herself incanting the traveling spell in reverse, pain throbbing in her shoulder. When she looked down, she could see blood seeping through her shirt, blossoming like a flower. Did someone stab me?
Her heart slammed against her ribs, and ice-cold grief threatened to overwhelm her.
As she finished the spell, she crouched, then drew the sigil in reverse, using a bottle of perfume. Everything was backwards, the liquid pouring upward from the stone and into the bottle. She shoved the full perfume bottle into her pocket as she walked backward to the crenellations.
The smell of fire curled through the air. As she peered over the side, she could see an inferno raging beneath her. Her chest heaved in panic, sorrow slamming into her. She reached into the air, and a dagger zoomed out of the flames and into her hand, flying in reverse. It took her a moment to understand what had happened—that she was now holding a dagger she’d just thrown off the ramparts.
A gold blade, encrusted with jewels.
With one hand, she pulled down the collar of her shirt. With the other, she pressed the blade into her skin. Burning pain lanced through her, and she slowly un-carved Emerazel’s sigil, moving backward through time. When it disappeared, she shoved the dagger back into her sheath. Tears streamed down her face—crying for her mother. Sobbing for the life she’d lost.
She uncrumpled a piece of paper, pressing it against the flat stone on one of the crenellations. For an instant, she could see the text, but she didn’t even need to read it—she already knew what it said.
On your 18th birthday,
March 15, 2016,
ask for a trial.
- Ursula (You)
Then she began un-writing it, the ink flowing from the page into the pen.
With a gasp, Ursula opened her eyes. Grisial stood next to the bed. All at once, memories began trickling back to her—her mother, teaching her to fight with a sword, striding purposefully across a field, teaching Ursula to read. And yet—despite the memories, the images, it all felt strangely distant, as if she was watching a stranger’s life. Not her own. She still didn’t understand. What had happened to her memories? Why had she blocked everything out?
Her chest tightened. “It-it was my choice to forget the past, but I don’t know why. I was the one who carved the sigil into my shoulder. I wrote myself the note,” Ursula stammered. “I was the one who wrote the note. I wanted to forget.”
The dragon looked at her sympathetically. “You needed to escape your memories.”
“Yes, but I still can’t feel anything, so I’m not sure why.” She looked into Grisial’s single sapphire eye. “Do you trust me now? Will you help me defeat Lucius?”
“I will help you, but you know I cannot defeat him. Not when he possesses Excalibur. The most I can do is protect you while you plead your case. Maybe you can convince him.”
Ursula stood. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Chapter 31
Ursula wrapped her legs tightly around the dragon’s neck, while her hands each gripped a bony horn. In her dragon form, Grisial was a massive beast, at least the size of the Drake. Her scales were as white as ermine fur and camouflaged perfectly with the mountain snow. It was obvious, now, why she hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years.
With a scream, Grisial launched herself into the air. Ursula clung on for dear life until she adjusted to the massive beats of the dragon’s wings. They flew out over the snowfields, and Ursula recognized the cliff she’d huddled against the night before, trying to warm herself. Grisial had given her new gloves and a jacket, and the soft wool warmed her body even as the wind whipped at her hair.
Grisial dove, and Ursula gripped tightly as they plummeted toward a snowfield. The dragon’s wings billowed out as they landed, blowing clouds of snow into the air. When the snow cleared, Ursula glimpsed Bael standing fifty yards from them. He glared at the dragon, his dark magic slicing the air sharply around him.
Ursula waved to him, laughing as his eyes widened when he saw her perched on Grisial’s spine. Then Grisial’s neck lurched awkwardly, and Ursula fell to the snow. By her side, Grisial transformed into her human form.
Ursula rose, brushing the snow off herself as Bael charged toward her. When he reached her, he swept her into his arms.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Ursula smiled, but she immediately regretted the comment when she saw the tears in Bael’s eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. You must have been so worried.”
She pressed her face into his neck. Bael didn’t speak as he held her tightly, but she could feel his chest heaving. At last, he cupped her chin with a calloused palm. “I am so glad to see you,” he said, before kissing her on the lips.
“Are you two quite done?” asked Grisial.
Bael’s grip on Ursula slackened as he turned to look at the dragon shifter.
Ursula gestured between them. “Grisial, this is Bael. Bael, this is Grisial.”
The demon and the dragon eyed each other warily.
“Grisial saved my life. I would have frozen to death if she hadn’t found me. She has agreed to help us negotiate with Lucius.”
Bael frowned. “Negotiate? Not fight?”
Grisial shook her head. “Without a legion of demons behind you, he’d defeat you in seconds if he’s in his dragon form, with Excalibur. I can at least guarantee your safety while you negotiate. I can fly us to Calidore Castle. You two must convince Lucius to help. If he gives you trouble, I will help you escape.”
Bael’s eyes glinted in the sunlight as he nodded. “Let’s go.”
While the ride in Frank’s carriage had taken them most of a nigh
t, the flight to Calidore Castle lasted less than an hour on Grisial’s neck. Ursula sat in front, with Bael behind her, his muscular arms gripping the dragon’s horns while keeping her from falling off. In the cold air above Mount Acidale, his embrace kept her warm.
Urusula stared wide-eyed at the view as the sun set, bathing the trees in buttery yellow light, washing the rural towns in amber and pink. It was only as they reached the city of Mount Acidale and its haze of smog that the beauty of the land began to fade.
Grisial dove into the smog, aiming straight for the broken towers of Calidore Castle. With the sixth sense of a homing pigeon, Grisial burst from the dirty sky directly above the castle.
As the White Dragon landed in a courtyard, the king’s guard charged toward them. Grisial spun, and with a draconic scream, breathed a stream of icy water at the men. As the water contacted the ground, the walls, and the guards themselves, it instantly froze into solid ice.
As rifles began to fire from the roofs above them, Bael pulled Ursula behind a bronze statue of King Midac. He covered her with his body, but most of the bullets were aimed at Grisial. They zinged off the dragon’s scales like hail.
Grisial turned, breathing more ice at the attacking guards. As the men began to freeze, a captain yelled for them to retreat.
“Block the doors,” shouted Bael to the dragon.
Grisial directed her icy breath so that it froze all but one of the entrances to the courtyard. With all the guards either frozen or blocked from entering, Grisial morphed back into her human form.
“This way.” With her one blue eye flashing, she beckoned them toward the remaining door.
“Wait.” Bael ran to the nearest frozen guard, and with a crack, ripped the man’s cutlass from an icy grip.
Ursula gagged at the sound. There was no question that Bael had snapped the man’s wrist. He was already reaching for the guard’s rifle when Ursula shouted for him to stop.
She rushed to the guard. Beneath the ice, she could see the man was still alive. His eyes rolled in their sockets, and he grunted in fear, unable to speak with his jaw frozen in place. Quickly, she began channeling Emerazel’s fire into her hands.
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