At this, the boy barked out a laugh, but before Wren could be angry with him, he said, “They probably think you are the viper, Princess of Dragons. Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?” Wren could scarcely keep up with the direction his questions took. She glanced at the water, knowing that, soon, it would rise. She knew she had to make a decision about what to do next. Only now, Wren was beginning to realize that her escape plan may have to include another body. She couldn’t leave him.
“Home,” the boy said simply.
She stilled at the word, her back going stiff against the boy’s. But then she grew slack. “All the time,” she admitted. “It’s all that’s keeping me going; getting home, how I can escape from here and reach it…” She stopped herself before she revealed everything that she had so far kept tightly to her chest. Such as the fact that her sister was still alive. Though the boy seemed harmless, there was no telling what or who he really was. For all Wren knew, he was a spy put down in the dungeon to encourage Wren to talk and reveal all her secrets.
But something about his nature suggested that this was not the case. Even so, I cannot tell him something so important. Yet, that does not mean he is my enemy, nor does he deserve to rot in here.
They sat together in companionable silence for a time, Wren carefully watching the water and picking a lamb’s bone clean while the boy hummed tunefully. She thought that she may have recognized the melody, but, whenever she tried to place it, the song escaped her mind.
It was the boy who finally spoke again. “Why eat that bone when you could eat the rest of the meat?” he asked in genuine confusion. “It will be difficult for you to eat it when the water begins to rise, and that will happen…imminently.”
On impulse, Wren reached a hand behind her, searching for the boy’s fingers between the bars that separated them. She did not expect him to reach out for her, too, and so was surprised when he did. They interlaced fingers, then Wren squeezed.
She’d made her decision. Whether the boy was a spy or not, she would get him out of the dungeon, then leave him someplace safe before she made her way back to Lorne.
“We’re getting out of here,” she told him, very quietly. “Unless you would rather remain?”
She did not need to see the boy’s face to know that he was grinning. “Are you mad, woman? Of course, I want out of here. What do you have in mind?”
“The water is about to rise, as you said.”
“Yes.”
“And then the dragon might appear.”
“Might?”
“Well, have you ever seen it down here before?”
“There has never been a Dragon Princess in the dungeon before.”
“Is that a no?” Wren asked, letting go of his hand and getting to her feet, preparing to climb the bars just as the water began to rise. The boy did the same, and they found themselves face-to-face with each other. He was perhaps several inches taller than Wren, somewhat gawky and awkward with his height but possessed beautiful, wide brown eyes that she had never had the opportunity to see up close before.
A truly innocent face. He is no Verlantian spy. But still, I cannot take him with me to Lorne. I cannot risk him knowing about Britta.
The hem of her green dress floated on the surface of the water below her.
“It means I do not know,” the boy admitted. He climbed the first rung of the iron bars, and Wren did the same. “It could have been under the water, out of sight. I would not have much liked to find out, one way or the other, by stepping in the water.”
The smallest of smiles curled Wren’s lips. “No, I suppose not.”
“So, what happens when the dragon gets here?” A flash of concern crossed the boy’s face, which only made Wren’s smile grow larger. He was nervous. It was only natural. No one outside the Dragon Isles dealt with the dragons.
“We’ll deal with that if and when the dragon shows up…and hope that the fish do not.”
He reached out and flicked one of the crystals hanging from the crown she wore. “So sparkly. What did you do to get theses?”
“Nothing.”
She tucked the bone away in her pocket. The two of them climbed the grille until they were as high up and as secure as they could be, and, when the water stopped rising, Wren began to sing.
Instead of a sorrowful, calming tune, this time Wren sang a fighting song. Bright and vibrant and daring, to encourage the dragon to show up. But, after fifteen minutes, there was no sign of the water stirring, and she felt her heart sink.
You have to show up.
The dragon was her last chance. She’d burned a bridge tonight.
Wren sang louder and more fervently with every passing second. Her lips hurt from humming, and her hands grew slick with sweat, despite the bitter cold. Wren knew, in her heart, that if she could not get the dragon to appear tonight, then that would be it for her.
She would be doomed.
When she was mere moments from giving up, a set of spines finally broke the surface of the water, and she let out a sigh of relief.
Opposite her, the boy looked down at the dragon with wide eyes. “I’m not going to like this next bit, am I?”
Wren grunted and tried to calm down. Whether it was because she was no longer responsible for just her own life but for his, too, Wren herself no longer felt scared or uncertain. Slowly, she climbed down the bars and into the water, closing the distance between herself and the dragon with careful, calculated steps. Her dress pulled on her frame as the fabric soaked up water.
The creature growled as she approached. But still, Wren was not scared. She dropped to her knees with a splash and held out the lamb as an offering, holding her hands a mere inch from the dragon’s dark yet luminous snout.
“Go on and take it,” she murmured. “It’s a gift for you.”
Air stuttered from her lungs as the warmth of its breath wafted over her hands as it finally took the meat gently from her hands.
“Get ready,” she told the boy—just as the door to the prison opened up.
“Wren?”
Arrik’s surprised voice washed over her as she stared down the dragon.
No.
“Get back,” he commanded. “It’s dangerous.”
She ignored the prince and her heart raced in her chest. This was it. Wren continued her song, and when it was clear the creature would not attack her, she launched herself onto its back. The prince yelled as water lapped over her legs as she straddled the dragon. She exhaled slowly and silently rejoiced. The dragon had not attacked her nor rejected her. Instead, it now lowered the spines on its back so that she could position herself more safely.
“Don’t you dare,” the prince said lowly.
Wren finally lifted her gaze to her husband. His chest lifted up and down with his breaths as he gazed at her. His normally stoic face was pinched in anger and worry. Arrik waded farther into the water and held his hand out to her.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he gritted out.
The dragon slid forward to the next cell and her traitorous heart clenched at the heartbreak on the prince’s face.
“Get on,” she demanded of the boy, knowing they had mere seconds before the prince came to his senses and attacked.
“Are you crazy?!” the boy cried; mouth wide open at the sight of Wren atop the glowing, dangerous dragon.
“Between you and I, I am not the one who is mad.”
The prince cursed and launched himself through her cell door to get to the boy’s.
“Get on. Now!”
The boy jumped on behind Wren, having no qualms about wrapping his arms around her waist to secure himself.
Wren glanced behind her. “How well can you hold your breath?”
A pause. “Hopefully well enough not to die from this.”
The boy’s cell door swung open and the prince strode through it. His livid gaze locked on her. “Don’t make me your enemy.”
“You have always been my enemy,” she whispered.
“I thought we agreed not to lie to each other.” His ice blue eyes narrowed. “I will hunt you.”
“You can try,” she retorted as the dragon slid forward once more.
The prince smiled. “You know I love challenges, Wren. I’ll be seeing you soon, my queen.”