“Oh goddess, that is a sight,” I said with a small giggle. It was just the thing to slice through my terror.
“Here, sir.” Hadriel inched a little farther forward and then wobbled. He clearly wasn’t sober.
“Compose yourself and then report to the tower room,” Nyfain barked.
“You don’t have to go, Hadriel,” the succubus said. “There is nothing he can do to you if you stay.”
“There’s plenty he can do to me,” Hadriel murmured as he all but staggered in our direction.
I pulled away from Nyfain a little and tried to look down his body.
“What are you doing?” he growled, squeezing me to his chest so I’d stay put.
“Trying to see if you have an erection.”
He huffed, heading back out to the stairs and up. At the third floor, he turned into a lovely, picturesque hall with arched windows along the left and stone on the right. Oil paintings lined the way, some with mustaches drawn on the subjects’ faces and occasionally a few dongs. Clearly a few partygoers had gotten out of control.
At the end, he ascended a small staircase that wound up to a single heavy door. The tower, most likely. He planned to stick me there.
“I thought you were going to kill me,” I said in a small voice as he put me down.
“Picking a weed is not really stealing, but your persistent trespassing warrants detention. Your sentence is for an eternity. Here is your cell.”
He twisted the key before pushing open the door. Darkness waited within. He gestured me through.
“But…” I fidgeted with my collar as I stared into the inky depths. “You’re going to keep me in a tower?” My voice kept rising. “In a room that locks from the outside?”
“Would you rather I throw you in the dungeon?”
“Is there a third option? Like a slap on the wrist and public humiliation?”
He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into the room. I staggered, fear rising to choke me. He took residence in the doorway, his massive shoulders nearly filling the frame. His body was built for power, and he’d honed it with strength.
“Welcome to hell, princess.”
The door slammed and the lock clicked. I pounded on the door, jiggling the handle and yanking. Nothing.
“That rotten-faced weasel fucker,” I spat, turning and pushing my back against the door.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness. Thank the goddess for the nearly full moon. Weak light filtered in around heavy curtains. I started forward, waving my hands in front of me to feel what I couldn’t see. My foot hit something solid and then the side of my arm did. Wood of some kind. A little farther, and I kicked and then practically fell onto a little table. Farther still, I finally reached the window.
I grabbed velvet and yanked. The metal curtain hooks scraped against the curtain rod. Light gushed in, and I got a first look at the view.
I was high off the ground. The stairs indicated I was four levels up, but the castle was perched on a rise. The land on this side dropped away, and it felt like I could see forever. The tops of trees spread out in the distance with various gaps, some quite large. I wondered if those openings marked other villages or homesteads. It occurred to me how little I knew about the kingdom. I’d never been away from home. I had no idea what other places looked like and how they were set up. No idea what the castle was like beyond what I’d seen tonight.
As a young girl, I’d dreamed of such things. I’d make believe I was a queen walking out onto her dais, waving to the adoring crowds gathered below and adjusting my long red velvet cape. I’d travel to distant kingdoms and meet their leaders, smiling serenely and drinking tea with my pinky up, as befitted royalty. Other times I’d play the jester, doing handstands and juggling for the simpering royalty, then making jokes at their expense, which they were certainly too slow to grasp.
But then I grew up. My grandiose make-believe downsized into my habit of addressing an invisible audience whenever I got into trouble or took risks to put food on the table. My dreams had dried up. All of our dreams had, I guessed. I wasn’t alone in any of this.
Well. I was alone in a tower in a castle, kept prisoner by the last surviving noble—
I sucked in a breath as I pulled back the rest of the curtains and looked out over the grounds. I did some quick math: the last surviving noble + in charge of protecting the land = dragon. Dragon!
I searched my memory for what dragons looked like. First came that glittering golden masterpiece in the sky from my youth. The dragon prince. But I’d never seen him—or any of them—close up, only from down below as they cut through the air with massive wings. There was no way I could compare the beast to what I’d seen.