But of course this was where Smolder was taking her, and of course she had no choice.
He unlocked the door with a plain silver key from a chain around his neck, picked up a bucket of water that had been waiting outside, and led her into the dark interior.
At first she thought her eyes were dazzled by the sun, but as they adjusted, she realized that the flashes of light around her came from small mirrors embedded in the walls, which caught the reflections of bronze oil lamps dangling at various heights on long wires from the ceiling far above.
A winding ramp led from the floor around and around, up to the top of the tower. And here was Burn’s notorious, disturbing collection on display. Spaced at intervals along the ramp were the exhibits. Sunny caught glimpses of claws and misshapen tails and melted scales and thought with a shudder, I’m one of them now.
Right at the bottom of the ramp was a wingless white dragon, its mouth twisted open in a roar of fury.
Sunny jumped back, nearly knocking Smolder over, before she realized the dragon was dead. And then that was actually worse, because it clearly had been alive, once, before Burn slit it open, let the life pour out, and then stuffed it so she could display it.
Is that going to be me?
Instead of saving the world — am I going to end up stuffed and mounted on a pedestal?
The fear that flooded through her made her want to lie down, cover her head with her wings, and scream for days.
Trust in the prophecy, she told herself fiercely. I can’t die here. The dragons of Pyrrhia are counting on me.
But Morrowseer’s voice was still there, whispering, “The prophecy isn’t real,” and as hard as she tried, Sunny couldn’t quite find that faith that had once chased out every fear.
The white dragon wasn’t entirely wingless, she realized. It had little stubs on its back that had never grown into wings. There was something eerily sleek and snakelike about it. The most truly horrifying part was the look on its face.
“Isn’t it creepy?” Smolder said in her ear, and she jumped again. “Someone brought him to Burn ten years ago, claiming he was the forbidden offspring of a SandWing and an IceWing. Which is the right thing to say to her, even if it wasn’t true — and who knows if it was — because she has, let’s just say, some pretty strong opinions about tribe purity and not contaminating SandWing blood with cross-tribe breeding.”
“Oh,” Sunny said faintly. She thought of Starflight, who felt a million miles away right now. On her list of reasons why they probably wouldn’t work out, she hadn’t thought to include “contaminating SandWing blood.”
“SMOLDER!” a voice bellowed suddenly from overhead. “I HEAR YOU DOWN THERE. If you don’t bring me more water right now, I swear I will catch that scavenger of yours and EAT HER.”
Sunny’s heart plunged through the floor. She stared at Smolder in shock.
She knew that voice.
Queen Scarlet of the SkyWings was alive — and she was Burn’s prisoner, too.
“Queen Scarlet is here?” Sunny whispered to Smolder. “Everyone’s looking for her! There are dragons who think we’re holding her captive!”
He scratched his nose with one claw and sighed. “My sister likes to keep a close eye on her … things,” he said. “The SkyWing queen is a bit of a problem right now. Although mostly she’s a problem for me, the unlucky dragonsitter.” He glanced up at the dark ceiling way above them, then peered around the floor.
“Flower!” he shouted suddenly. “Flower!” He lifted a small bell from around his neck and rang it, letting the tinkling noise echo across the dark space.
Something pitter-pattered on the ramp above them, and after a moment, Sunny picked out a tiny figure scurrying down.
That’s not a dragon, she thought with surprise.
It was a scavenger — alive and upright and chattering like a squirrel, bold as you please, right in the middle of the SandWing palace. It jumped down the last level to the floor and darted over to Smolder. For a grim, worrying moment, Sunny expected him to rip the scavenger’s head off or offer the whole creature to her for dinner or something.
Instead, the SandWing prince rested his front talons on the floor and the scavenger clambered right onto one of them, sat down, and resumed chattering a little louder, along with some vigorous paw waving.