20. Drake

TWENTY

DRAKE

D rake scoured the entirety of the castle. He teemed with rage. He hunted on his own two feet through the private wing, and then into guest chambers. It was a large area to cover, so he summoned some of the guards to help. One of them included the man who was assigned to protect her.

He approached the king sheepishly. Drake had no time for that.

"Out with it. Where is my Creation Sorceress?"

He stood tall and then blurted out the words. "I went with her to the royal library, My King," he stuttered. "She used her powers to…"

The guard raised both hands into the air and moved them in an abstract circle. The other guards watched, stupefied.

The king felt his palms beginning to callous. His tongue tasted of hot smoke, a clear indicator of brimming aggravation.

"Words, give me your words!"

The guard's eyes broadened, and his skin ran ivory white.

"My King…she used her magic to move the shelves and…it was as if she were swallowed…I punched through and she was gone. She had vanished."

Drake's mind was a tangled bird's nest. He brushed off the extraordinary story, trusting only in bits of pieces, and ordered them with stark indignity to ransack the entirety of the palace.

"Strip the walls, throttle the stone, find her," he seethed.

The guards scattered, and the king was left alone in the guest corridor close to the public meeting rooms. He ran both hands through the tumbleweed of his hair, wishing he could have ordered the whole of his army to dig through the castle and its various dark corners and tunnels.

But there was an impending war on the horizon.

He turned toward the high gothic window and watched with a feebleness that made him feel sickly as the swollen sky released a violent and hostile cloudburst. The angry shade burned as rain hailed over the kingdom, while a surreal streak of lilac lightning lit up the gloom.

A hillside that curved into oblivion speckled with a specific gleam. Drake knew it the second the refracted light hit his glare. Lucien's army was mounting the terrain and proceeding toward the castle.

The war was no longer impending. It was there.

Drake rushed toward the meeting room where the war council had gathered. His mind was fractured, unable to sort through the terror that gripped his heart concerning Thalia's disappearance. Mads and Olaf agreed there was no room for negotiation. Either Lucien bend the knee or he and his rogue comrades would suffer an untimely fate.

"The army has been assembled," Mads confirmed, the steel of his armor blinking in the weak light of the room. "They await instructions from their king."

"But we implore you, Drake," Olaf said, looking particularly glum. "There is only one solution to this mess. We must defeat Lucien. We must not yield."

The king agreed and left the war council. He was to return to them at the front of the lines once he had adorned his royal armor and military crown.

He raced to his chambers, thunder crackling overhead. He moved as if underwater, a part of him feeling inept and dead, another alive and ambitious. Thalia weighed heavily on him. His chest felt as if a bull were using him as a chair.

In a moment driven by the dreamlike sensation of grief, Drake tried to reach out to his beloved telepathically. He was barely aware he was doing it as he lifted the glittery chainmail from the armory, tucked away secretly in his royal chamber.

Thalia, Thalia. Please speak to me. Please tell me that your soul has not left this earthly realm.

He placed the chainmail over his shoulders and adjusted it accordingly. Then a voice, as soft as rose petals, caressed a portion of his brain.

Drake, it's me. You have to stop this war!

The king dropped to his knees, a booming thud resounding through his chambers. The bull that had been sitting on his chest had fluttered away on butterfly wings.

Thalia? Thalia, where are you? Tell me, I will rescue you.

Pyralis is manipulating you. He plotted to make this war. You have to end this!

Hearing Thalia's voice, as disturbed as it was, returned the king to a balance. He rose from his feet and went to the window. Rain pummeled the rugged landscape with its own fit of fury.

He spoke to her in his mind evenly and calmly as Lucien's army descended upon the castle grounds.

Tell me what you mean, sweet one. Tell me, and I will find you.

He heard her words with a clarity that felt musical.

Pyralis is the one who was seeking me out. He weaved the tale that Lucien was searching for me to harness my powers, which forced you to seek me out. But he is the one who wants to absorb my power. He needs this war so your attention is drawn away.

Her voice returned to the crestfallen horror that made the king press his fingernails harder into his calloused hands.

Drake, he's going to kill me. He's going to kill me and…

She wept inside his head. It summoned the anger back inside the king, his own turbulent storm.

That is not going to happen. I promise you to the depths of my heart and soul. I am sorry I refused to hear you. I have a lifetime to express my sincerest contrition.

Thalia sniffled in his mind, no longer crying. Her voice was small, terrified, mortifying the king in a way that made him feel murderous.

Get me out of here, Drake. Find Sorcha. She will help you.

I am coming for you, my darling. Hold on.

Half dressed in his military ware, the king ran out of his chambers. He used a secret tunnel that connected the royal rooms directly to the dungeon. Only the king and queen were privy to it, and only the most trusted members of his staff knew of their existence. Torchlight flickered passed him in the dark as he reached the cellar of the castle, and he pushed the door open.

The dungeon was damp and dewy. There were no windows, and the fresh air was eaten up as prisoners were brought down into the unseemly lockup. Drake closed the secret door behind him and wandered past the various empty cells until he found who he was looking for.

Sorcha sat on her cot, her head in her hands. His heart dropped like a stone when he approached, and she did not gaze up.

"Sorcha."

His feet waded through small puddles as tangerine torchlight gushed through the cell. She lifted her head to him, her usual bright and amiable smile wiped away.

"My King…" she mumbled dryly.

Drake wrapped a hand around the bars of the cell and leaned his forehead against them. He was despaired by what he had done to someone so faithful and skilled. She appeared like the color had been stolen from her, like a thief in the night.

He would have to make it up to her as well should she agree to come to his and Thalia's aid.

"Sorcha, my heart is heavy over what has happened. My apology knows no limits. I have been used by our royal scholar, the conniving Pyralis. He has taken Thalia and promises to devour her of her essence."

The words were like a knife on his tongue, severing it in two. The moment he mentioned Thalia, Sorcha hopped to her feet, pressing her own head to the bars.

"He has Thalia? What can I do? We must talk to Lucien first, I believe. This is all one large misunderstanding."

Drake could have fainted with relief. He picked up the dungeon keys that dangled from a hook, then released his wrongly accused prisoner. When she emerged from the cell, he could see her eyelids had turned to a bruised shade of purple. The eggshell of her whites were veined in crimson red flairs.

She had only been within the dungeon for half a day, but her spirit had diminished. Drake despised himself for potentially snuffing out such a shining soul.

He bowed his head to her mournfully as he spoke.

"I once again apologize, Sorcha. I was possessed by ego and thought only of my reputation. I will understand if you choose to leave my side once this conflict is resolved."

Miraculously, Sorcha smiled. The blue cuts of sapphire of her eyes twinkled in the shadowy space.

"I am loyal to My King, and I am loyal to our future queen. Let us have a dialogue with my cousin."

The king was gracious, and they climbed the long staircase that ascended into the castle.

Thunder clamored as they approached the battlefield. The sky was raw and bleeding red.

Hold on, Thalia. Please, hold on.