The Return of the Dragon Queen

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  We came to another walled gate within the main castle, and a pot-bellied man with a pockmarked face and short white hair was waiting for us with the guards. Danica spoke to him for a second, and he ushered us through the second gate into the inner bailey of the massive castle.

  Within the inner walls stood a magnificent palace. Enormous towers spiked through the morning sky, and massive latticed windows lined the newer structures of the east and west wings. We traversed shaded walkways surrounded by beautiful landscaped gardens with fountains of exquisitely carved statues spraying water into ponds in graceful arcs. Snowy lilies and rose-tinted peonies, fragrant and delicate, provided bursts of vibrant color in the midst of the bright green lawns. Charmingly dressed noblewomen in swirling silk day dresses with crisp taffeta skirts, draped in velvet capes and cloaks and dripping with rows of pearls and sparkling gemstones, strolled along the garden paths on the arm of many a well-dressed gentleman. They had all come in from different parts of the kingdom for the coronation.

  It was disturbing to see the nobility of this kingdom behaving as if it was Brandon Delacourt’s right to take the throne from his king. I knew they were all scared of the archmage, mainly because of Morgana’s backing and the presence of the Dark Queen by his side, but they didn’t have to act like everything was as it should be.

  Disgusted with the fickle nobles, I followed the little man through the opulent gardens to the kitchen gardens, which were growing every vegetable and herb I could think of. I had read about this castle in my books at the academy. Dorian the Great built this palace within the fortress as a royal residence. Then, a few hundred years later, it was Dorian the Second who went on to rebuild the palace, expanding on it and hiring artisans from Brandor to create an even grander set of buildings.

  “Come on, come on. I don’t have all day.” The little potbellied man led us to the side entrance of the main palace, and we entered the kitchens. Immediately a heady concoction of delicious aromas and warmth from the numerous fires wafted toward me.

  I could hardly believe the level of bustle in the castle kitchens. A huge hearth and several fireplaces surrounding six wooden worktables dominated the cavernous, vaulted room. These led out into a maze of smaller rooms joined together by huge stone archways. Broad wooden beams the size of tree trunks held up the structure. Kitchen helpers chopped, and kneaded, and stirred steaming hot pots of stewing vegetables and bubbling soups, dropping herbs and spices into them. Whole pigs and other meats roasted on spits in massive fireplaces, dripping hot fat into the fire that crackled and hissed as I stood by the warm hearth and rubbed my hands.

  The cook gave Tristan and me instructions on our role for the next few days. As far as he knew, we were just some of the many slum children Danica had taken under her wing and helped get jobs. We were only temporary helpers and would have to leave as soon as the coronation was completed. We had to get to the dungeons and get the children out before then, or we would lose our chance.

  The cook was still speaking. “Just because Danica got you this job doesn’t mean you get paid if you don’t work. Your main responsibility will be to help clear the dining room after the guests have left. For now, there are dishes to wash and utensils to scrub, so get to it.” He pointed to a big stone basin piled high with cooking utensils.

  I scrubbed and washed until my hands were red and raw. I healed them slowly so I would not draw attention. Tristan, as stoic as ever, finished his work as if it were just another mission he’d been ordered to do. Seeing the powerful High Fae prince reduced to scrubbing dishes in a kitchen made me smile. He looked so much more approachable when he didn’t have swords of silver fire blazing in his hands. It also helped that the glamour I put on him dulled his strikingly handsome features, although it could do nothing about his height. The main problem had been regarding his swords. He had refused to give them up, of course, so I’d finally relented and glamoured the swords and let him keep them.

  Once we had helped scrub the kitchens, we were given a simple warm meal of meat stew and crusty bread and sent to our quarters. I had to share with three girls who insisted on giggling and chatting, when I needed them to fall asleep so I could explore the palace to get my bearings. Tomorrow was the coronation and the wedding feast to celebrate the now not-so-secret marriage of Brandon and Calisto.

  Once the coronation parade started, Tristan and I could sneak away into the dungeons. There would be a few guards, but Penelope’s potion should take care of them. Getting into the dungeons would be the easy part—getting out, not so much. The main thing was to find the children and portal them out.

  I hoped Rafe knew what he was doing. His plan seemed adequate, but there were so many things that could go wrong. What if Brandon decided he didn’t need him and executed him on sight? I had seen what Brandon was capable of, and it was hard to imagine a friend doing all these terrible things.

  “The new archmage is so handsome,” one of the girls said, staring up at the ceiling. “That Calisto Blackwater is one lucky lady. She gets to be queen and gain a handsome husband all in one day.”

  “There is no one as handsome as Prince Rafael,” said one of the other girls, sighing deeply. “He’s a real prince. Archmage Delacourt is just an upstart.”

  “Shh, Amanda, it’s treason to talk like that,” the first girl said. They glanced hurriedly at me, but I pretended to be asleep.

  “Prudence, your father is an archer in Delacourt’s army. There is talk in the kitchens—is it true that he is holding the nobles’ children prisoner in this very castle?”

  “We are not supposed to talk about it, but yes,” said Prudence, lowering her voice. “My father says Archmage Delacourt is even more dangerous than the Blackwaters.”

  “I don’t believe Prince Rafael will let those children be executed,” whispered Amanda.

  “There is nothing he can do,” said Prudence. “He has to surrender or the archmage will kill those poor children.”

  As soon as they fell asleep, I slipped out of my bed and snuck out of my room. I hurried through the dark, deserted hallways of the mist-shrouded castle. The passages that connected the fortress were lit sparingly with burning torches held in brackets on the walls at regular intervals.

  We would have to go past the main corridors of the castle to get to the dungeons, which were situated deep under the great hall. I turned a corner to a brighter-lit corridor. The royal residence was huge and opulently designed, with stone paneling, intricately carved statues, and extravagant tapestries lining the passageways. I glanced into an open doorway where a massive ornate fireplace completed a luxuriously decorated chamber. I wished I were back in my warm bed at Silverthorne Castle, the only place I would call home. Instead I was sneaking around the castle of my enemy at night, hoping I didn’t get caught. Tristan was scouring all the routes to exit the castle, and I had to make sure I knew the whole layout as well. Rafe had shown us the map, but we would only get one chance to do this. If we failed or were caught, those children could die.

  A door opened behind me, and I froze in my tracks.

  “You,” said a female voice I recognized instantly. “Get me a glass of warm snowberry milk. I can’t sleep.”

  I turned slowly to face the voice. I knew who it was, and I knew she couldn’t recognize me, but my heart had started galloping in my chest. If I were caught, this would be the end.

  I prayed my glamour was sufficient and turned. “Yes, my lady,” I said to Leticia, bobbing a small curtsy and keeping my head lowered, when what I really wanted to do was walk over to her and slap her smug face. Penelope told me she abandoned Rafe as soon as he lost his crown and married Zorek Blackwater instead in her quest to become queen. But in a twisted turn of fate, she was now a widow, and it was her sister-in-law Calisto who was poised to take the crown.

  Leticia’s eyes flashed. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She crossed her arms, tapping her bejeweled-slippered foot. “Hurry up. I need my beauty sleep. I don’t want that slut Calisto to get all the
attention tomorrow.” She dismissed me with a wave of her imperious hand.

  My blood boiled, but I held my tongue and turned to go back down to the kitchens. At this rate I would never be able to scope out all the castle routes.

  I got Leticia her glass of snowberry milk and continued my rounds, barely making it back to my warm bed before the sun rose.

  The bright morning sun streamed in through the small window of the room above the kitchens. I got up and washed my face with the little jug of water that had been given to us. It was almost empty, but the other girls had not gone down to the kitchens yet. They were sitting on one bed, huddled together and whispering fervently.

  “Aren’t we supposed to go downstairs?” I asked, eager to get on with it. But my curiosity was piqued.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Amanda said, her eyes wide like bright blue saucers.

  “Heard what?”

  “Prince Rafael surrendered this morning,” said Prudence, adjusting her dress. “He’s being held here in the dungeons.”

  My heartbeat sped up, but my relief was wholehearted. At least Delacourt hadn’t killed him.

  “Maybe Cook will let me take his food down to him in the dungeons,” said Amanda in a dreamy voice.

  “Don’t be silly, Amanda,” said Prudence. “None of us are allowed down there. Only the guards are. And in any case, he’s as good as dead. He shouldn’t have surrendered; the archmage will never let him live now.”

  Amanda covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her gasp. “Why? He’s already surrendered, so why kill him?”

  Prudence shook her head. “How naïve you are, Amanda. This is the way of the nobility. They kill and cheat and lie to get to power, and when they get there they kill and cheat some more to stay there.”

  I didn’t want to hear any more of her rants about the nobility in Eldoren. It was quite clear the people were dissatisfied with the way the kingdom was run. But with Delacourt in power it would not get any better. The only way to improve the situation was to put Rafe on the throne where he belonged. He genuinely cared about the people and would be a good king. I just hoped when he was king, he would put aside our differences and help us defeat Morgana and her growing army. I was worried about him. We had to get down to the dungeons, and there wasn’t much time left. The coronation parade would begin soon, and we only had about an hour before the procession got back to the castle.

  Down in the kitchens, preparations for the coronation feast were in full swing. Whispers about the Prince of Eldoren surrendering to the archmage had reached every corner of the castle. Most of them spoke of him as a hero who had sacrificed himself and his crown for the sake of the imprisoned children. I smiled. So this was Rafe’s plan. He knew how the people would react if he gave himself up. They now loved him more than ever. Delacourt would never gain the support of the people now, whatever he might do.

  The kitchens were even more bustling this morning with fresh produce brought in from farms all around the valley and fragrant herbs freshly picked from the castle gardens. Fluffy golden-brown bread and flaky pastries baked in big wood-fire ovens while the cook frosted beautiful small cakes with a delicious buttercream. I couldn’t resist tasting it before the cook slapped my hand away and continued his work. I quickly got back to my chores; I didn’t need to give them a reason to throw me out, especially today. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe in the dungeons. I hoped he was okay.

  The morning went by in a flash, and I heard trumpets blare in the outer bailey, signaling the coronation festivities were beginning. Traditionally, the coronation parade was to begin in the town and make its way up to the castle so the citizens of Eldoren could cheer their new king. But this time the procession began at the entrance to the castle in the outer bailey—an environment that Delacourt could control. Only a select number of people were allowed inside the castle walls to see the splendor of the coronation parade. Delacourt knew the people of this kingdom disliked him, and he didn’t want to take a chance on being in a hostile crowd.

  Now we had very little time to complete our mission. The procession would take about an hour to reach the throne room in the main palace, and we had to be gone before then.

  “Back to work, everyone, the feast is nearly upon us.” The cook clapped his hands hurriedly. “Faster, faster.”

  I looked over at Tristan and he signaled me. It was time. I snuck into a corner and glamoured myself to become invisible. Tristan came over and I did the same for him. We slipped out of the kitchens and ran through the castle corridors to a set of stone stairs that led down to the palace dungeons.

  The main palace was basically deserted except for the kitchen staff and a few guards, since everyone was outside watching the procession.

  We descended the dark stone stairwell to the dungeons in the easternmost tower and came to a landing where four palace guards in blue-and-white uniforms were passed out on their chairs. Two were sleeping soundly with their heads on a table, their weapons limp at their sides. Tristan had taken the guards their breakfast that morning and had slipped Penelope’s sleeping potion in it.

  “How did you manage to convince Cook to let you take the dungeon guards their food?”

  Tristan shrugged. “The boy who usually takes it hurt his leg.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “With a little help, of course,” Tristan added with a half smile.

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course.”

  Tristan bent down, took the keys from the guards, and opened the dungeon door—a slab of heavy wood over a foot thick. It creaked and groaned as it opened, a dank musty smell wafting out. We descended the rough stone stairs, slick with moss in places, into the bowels of the castle. Penelope had told me about these dungeons, a place of horror and brutal torture in the time of the old kings. Now they were mainly dimly lit prisons with torches attached to iron sconces along the wall. These dungeons were a part of the old structure of Caeleron Castle built nearly a thousand years ago. They ran in a series of maze-like caves twenty feet below the castle.

  We kept to the shadows and moved by the dim light of the torches, which were recently lit. As the shadows from the flickering torches settled, I could see ragged figures huddled in corners as we moved past. I checked all the cells, but I didn’t want to call out Rafe’s name in case there were more guards down here. When we reached the last one, dread raced down my spine.

  “He’s not here.” I spun around. “Maybe we should go back and recheck all the cells.”

  “There’s no more time,” whispered Tristan, proceeding farther into the darkness of the dungeons. “Maybe they have put him where the children are being held, in the last cells beyond the ruins of the ancient vaults.”

  I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest as I followed Tristan. The maze-like corridors darkened. There were no more torches on the walls as we reached the end of the prison cells. We didn’t want to use magic until it was absolutely necessary, so Tristan held back his powers. I only used a smidgeon of mage magic, creating a ball of light in my hand, one of the first things I had been taught when I discovered I had magic.

  We entered a high-ceilinged room, the remnants of a vast vault where the old kings used to keep their treasure. Now, of course, it was empty, but I could picture what it must have looked like with chests of gold and jewels heaped all over the place. Impressive pillars rose above us, branching out into gothic arches and lined with rows of decaying statues devoured by time. I gasped and moved closer to Tristan when I spotted a pile of bones at the base of one of the statues.

  A chill had seeped into the very stone around us, and the damp air was putrid with the stench of blood and decay. I thought of the children and Erien, who must be so scared to be trapped here for who knows how long. That thought made me press on. The map Rafe had shown us was stamped into my brain. If he was right about the layout of the dungeons, then the children should be imprisoned in cells that lay just beyond this hall.

  We were nearly there.

  Throug
h the stillness of the dungeons, I heard voices, the sound of someone crying. “They are here,” I said softly, moving toward the sound.

  Tristan had to bend as he followed me through an archway and into the tunnel at the end of the hall. There were no torches burning here, and we were plunged into pitch darkness. I removed my glamour and held up my palm, the mage light shining on the rows of iron bars lining small cave-like cubicles in which the children were held.

  Dirty hands grasped the bars and peered through. “Aurora! Is that you?”

  “Erien,” I gasped and ran toward my cousin. His face was drawn and pale, dark circles shadowing his once-bright blue eyes. My blood boiled. I could kill Delacourt for putting them here in a state not fit for animals.

  Suddenly there was a sound behind us. I spun around as Tristan yelled a warning and dashed toward the mouth of the tunnel. But it was too late; a heavy iron portcullis came crashing down over the arched entrance, sealing us in.

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “Create the portal now.” He held up the keys we had stolen from the sleeping guards. “I will release them from their cells. We need to leave now.”

  I took off my amulet, willing my magic to awake, but it didn’t. “Tristan, something’s wrong.”

  Tristan drew his sword, but it didn’t light up. “Something is blocking my magic as well.”

  Increasing the mage light in my hand, I looked closely at the walls lining the tunnel, touched them, and gasped as realization took hold. “Blackened iron.”

  I spun around. The blackened iron was everywhere—the bars were made of it, and it was hammered into the very stone that lined the cramped tunnel. My fae magic would not work in here, and neither would Tristan’s.

  We were trapped.

  The End of the Road

  “I told you she would come,” said a voice I recognized immediately.

  A light emerged in the dark hall behind the blackened iron portcullis as Calisto and Brandon came into view.