There were pictures, though, drawn or painted by hand. In fact, I’d just seen some in the history book from the library. Nyfain did share some qualities with the dragons. The armored and horned head, the long tail ending in spikes, the clawed feet, the slope to his back.
But what had happened to his wings?
And why had only one noble been spared? A noble that apparently had jurisdiction here only in the daytime.
And why—
There was no point in tallying all of my questions. Throwing them out in the air would just crowd the space. I had no answers. Not yet, anyway.
A soft knock sounded at the door. My stomach rolled over, but not that weird thing in my chest. My animal, Nyfain had called it.
A whole bunch more questions tried to shove their way to the surface.
“Hello?” called a muffled voice.
I turned. Was this the way it was going to be? I’d have to communicate through the door?
“Hello?” the voice called again.
Sighing, I crossed the room and leaned against the frame. “What?” I said, folding my arms.
“Oh. You’re there. Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Can I come in?”
The slurring was evident. It must be the purple mock-up beast from the party. Hadriel.
I couldn’t help a small laugh at the costume and his sheepishness in coming forward. He’d totally been making fun of Nyfain and not expected to get caught.
That didn’t mean I would take it easy on him, though. For all intents and purposes, he was a guard. By rights, the prisoners were supposed to be at odds with their guards. For me, that meant lots of snarky put-downs. I hoped he was ready for it.
“You have the key, dipshit,” I called.
“I do?” His voice trailed away. “Oh. I see. It’s in the door. Wait…are you a prisoner? Why are you locked in?”
I raised my eyebrows and readied for a bandy of words, but…blank. His utter cluelessness made my mind go blank. He didn’t seem any more enlightened about the situation than I was.
“Are you dangerous?” he called. “Should I be worried? The master didn’t mention that I should be worried.”
Again, I wasn’t sure what to say.
“No?” I finally managed.
“You don’t sound sure. Look, I’m not good at fighting. That’s why I’m still alive. I’m a butler, for goddess’s sake! I look after people—kinda. I’m not much good at it. That’s also why I’m still alive, I think. There is safety in mediocrity. So if you’re all ragey, I’m just going to have to ask you to simmer down for a while. I’m not the bad guy here.”
A grin was pulling at my lips. Was this guy for real?
“I won’t hurt you,” I called.
“Are you sure? Now that I think of it, the master had a fresh wound. Did you give him that?”
“Yes, but he grabbed my throat. What was I supposed to do? And honestly, I don’t even remember doing it.”
“You don’t remember doing it?” Now his voice was rising. “What kind of a nutcase stabs a person and doesn’t remember doing it?”
“The kind who thinks they are going to die?”
A pause. Then, “Yes, okay. That makes sense, I guess. Fine, I’m coming in. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t stab or hurt me in any way. I was having a very nice time a moment ago and don’t want to ruin the buzz.”
I shuffled away from the door and resumed my stance against the far window. There I waited. Nothing happened.
“Are you coming?” I yelled.
“I was waiting for a confirmation!”
Metal tinkled, the key working within the lock. The oval knob turned slowly. Just as slowly, the door opened a crack, and a fuzzy purple head topped with two stuffed horns peered in. His eyes darted around until his gaze came to rest on me. He looked me up and down for a moment, settling on my empty hands. The door continued to open until the fuzzy purple monster stepped in.
I tried to hide more giggles and failed. I’d gone from real life and nightmares to a nightmare life lacking any sort of reality.
“Hello…” He stepped in a little farther, his hands up. “I’m not sober. Just so we’re clear.”
“I wish I weren’t sober. It’s nearly the same thing.”
He nodded and sidestepped to the little nightstand by the bed. Light flared from a match that he put to a candle in a silver holder. Only then did I really take in the room.
A huge four-poster bed with a canopy pushed against the wall, the curtains collected to the posters with tasseled ropes. Intricately carved wooden nightstands bracketed the bed, and a large double-door wardrobe across the room bore the same design. The overstuffed chair in the corner, nestled between the floor-to-ceiling windows covering the east and south side walls, looked worn in and incredibly comfortable for reading. It was clear the little table at its side was for holding books.