“She won’t wake up,” he said, looking up at Lucyan. The desperation in his eyes twisted at Lucyan’s heart. “Why won’t she wake up?”
“It might be some sort of sleeping spell,” Lucyan said grimly. He pressed a finger against Basilla’s neck, feeling for her pulse. It was there, a bit faint, but steady. “We’ll have to find the counterspell, but for now, let’s get her out of here before someone comes to investigate. For all we know, some hidden magical alarm has been sounded and Mordan’s men are on their way right now.”
“Right.” Grunting, Ryolas hauled his sister over his shoulder. Lucyan respectfully averted his gaze—she wore only a thin nightgown that did nothing to hide her shapely derriere. Looking around, he found a blanket in one of the drawers, and helped Ryolas wrap her up before they carried her outside.
The driver was long gone, but that was just as well, as they did not need witnesses. Luckily, the villa had a stable with several decent horses, likely used by the guards. In no time, they were saddled up and on the road.
“I’ve taken the liberty of hiring a safe house already,” Draxton said as they rode. “It is only a twenty-minute ride from here—I made sure the location was outside the city so no one would see the princess as we brought her in.”
“Excellent,” Lucyan said. He was very happy Shadley had sent these men along—they were resourceful and had good heads on their shoulders.
They reached the safe house—a small cottage on the edge of town—without incident and brought Basilla inside. There was only one bedroom and a large, open area that housed both kitchen and living areas, but there was plenty of space to keep the princess until they could figure out what to do with her. Ryolas gently laid his sister on the bed, and Lucyan and the others waited outside while he performed a healing on her.
Ten minutes later, he came out, looking grim. “My magic had no effect on waking her up,” he said, sounding dejected. “I searched her for amulets as well, and found nothing.”
“As I thought, we will likely need to find the right counterspell,” Lucyan said. He frowned, tapping his chin in thought. “Unfortunately, none of us are warlocks, so even if we do find the spell, there is no guarantee we will be able to wake her.”
“I might know someone who can help,” Corbin said.
Ryolas shook his head vehemently. “We cannot alert any warlocks to her presence,” he said. “I can’t risk it.”
“Let me work on finding the counterspell first,” Lucyan said soothingly. “With any luck, it might be something that can be applied using a device rather than raw magic. In the meantime, you should stay here with Basilla. For all we know, the spell could wear off naturally now that she is no longer in that accursed villa.”
“Very well,” Ryolas said, though he did not sound happy. “I will stay here and watch over her.” He glanced toward the agents. “Perhaps the two of you can do some research into this spell as well.”
Draxton nodded. “Corbin should stay here with you, in case this place is found and you need backup. But I will go back into the city and see what I can find. My prince, the three of us should meet up at the Green Mermaid in two days’ time, if you can get away.”
“Agreed.” Lucyan would have to find a way to sneak out of the grounds without being caught, but he would do it. Now that they had found Basilla, there was no time to waste. They needed to find a way to wake her up, fast, before Mordan discovered where she was taken and rained hell upon all of them.
17
On his way back to the Keep, Drystan stopped in a small village to break his fast. He felt elated by his first visit with the dragon god, but also very hungry and a bit faint as he had not eaten anything all day. Sitting down in a small, cozy tavern, he ordered a frothy tankard of ale and a large meal, both of which he contentedly enjoyed amid the buzz of conversation around him.
He could hardly believe he’d actually had an audience with the dragon god. Of course, he’d always known in the back of his mind that the dragon god had spoken to his progeny in the past—the oracle couldn’t be the only one who had a direct line. But his father had never spoken of it, so he assumed the method had been lost. Once he returned home, he would send out a proclamation to all the towns to search for a woman with a dragon birthmark and send her directly to the Keep in exchange for a reward. He hoped doing so wouldn’t cause the new oracle undue stress or hardship, but they could not afford to use slower methods to locate her. They needed her at the Keep as soon as possible.
As Drystan finished his meal, a man in dusty traveling clothes entered the tavern, looking both desperate and determined. “Are there any men for hire?” he asked the barkeep, leaning in between two scantily clad women who giggled and pawed at him. Drystan raised his eyebrows—the man scarcely seemed to notice the female attention. “I need good, strong fighters.”
“What for?” the barkeep asked, his eyes narrowed. “We have mercenaries pass through these parts sometimes, but none right now.”
“I would be willing to fight, for the right coin,” a burly man said, rising from a nearby table. “What is it that needs killing?”
“Bandits,” the man said. “A group of them hit our town last night, and they are terrorizing my neighbors.” His jaw clenched with anger. “Most of us are simple folk, not fighters. I’ll gladly accept your help, but there are ten of them, and they are strong.” He glanced around. “Will anyone else come and help?”
“I will,” Drystan said, standing up. He let his hair fall into his eyes as he looked at the man so he would not see his dragon irises. Placing his hand on the pommel of his sword, he added, “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good bit of exercise.”
Laughter rolled through the room at that. “With that kind of confidence, I feel I’d be a coward to stand by while you three go off fighting ruffians,” a third man said. He was wiry, with a patch over one of his eyes, but looked strong enough to Drystan.
The man glanced around, anxiety in the lines of his face. Drystan went up to the man and clapped him on the shoulder. “The three of us will be enough,” he promised.
“I hope so,” the man said, sounding doubtful. “Do you all have horses? I brought spares.”