Chapter 33

The entry hall was guarded on either end by spiraling sets of stairs. I let my feet guide us to the one on the right, straining my ears for an echo of the sound we'd heard. Other than the clatter of small loose stone and drifts of dust, the castle had fallen back into deathly silence.

The stone steps were partially caved in and tricky to navigate, but when a sound like dry, scraping stones drifted down the stairwell to us, we hurried to climb them before we lost the trail again. The noises seemed to be coming from the third floor.

"Neve?" I called softly at the top step. "Cait?"

The hall was littered with filthy clothing and broken furniture, as if they'd been dropped in the rush to flee the castle, and the open doors revealed bedrooms in various states of disarray, from once-grand beds reduced to matchsticks to wardrobes caked with grime.

Emrys ducked into the first, giving it a quick search. I tried to stop him, but he mimed holding a sword, raising both brows.

I sighed. He was right; regardless of where the others were, and what had made the noise, we were here to find Excalibur.

I leaned into the next bedroom and took a quick look around. Inside I found little more than furniture draped in disintegrating cloth. Every time I lifted one of the sheets to search for signs of the monster or Excalibur, I could feel traces of the rot rubbing off on my skin.

Something built in me, room by room—an urge. Not to run, not to speak, not to fight. It had no name, but it haunted me with each step. Not even the reassuring feel of Emrys's eyes tracking my every move was enough to dispel it.

Halfway down the hall, we were greeted by one of the vilest smells I'd experienced in my life—like sun-roasted sewage. I shrank back from it, and despite my stomach being empty, it heaved.

Emrys coughed, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He sent a wary look my way. "You know, we could go back down and wait for the others."

I wanted that more than my next breath, but this was one of those incredibly rare moments in which purpose prevailed. "No, we have to keep going."

He took a step forward with obvious reluctance.

"Are you scared, Dye?" I whispered, teasing.

"Yes." He turned his big eyes on me. "Will you hold my hand?"

The air was bitterly cold, but it did nothing to stop the hot flush that overtook my cheeks. "No."

I hurried ahead of him, making quick work of the rooms on the right side of the hall as he searched the left. With his longer legs, he caught up to me easily as I reached one of the last doors on the hall. And, together, we discovered the source of the rancid stench.

It took all the restraint I had left to not rub the phantom feeling of itchy decay from my arms. The rot overwhelming my senses gave the horrifying impression that it was my own body that was decomposing. As we hovered in the doorway, I pushed up my sleeves to make sure skeins of dead skin weren't falling from my bones.

My silver bones.

The room's door was on the ground, forcing us to step on and over the stones piled onto it. It was as if it had been ripped off with such great force, it had taken the stones framing the doorway with it, leaving a jagged opening in the wall behind.

Emrys gave me one last pained look, then stepped through, his scarred hand brushing over the rough stone.

I stayed close to him. The stench of death flourished around me, the metallic tang of blood and hideous rot nearly sending me to my knees. With my free hand, I reached back to grip Dyrnwyn's cold hilt and we crept slowly into the room.

The chamber was vast, broken up by a few crumbling walls. As in the other rooms we'd seen, much of the furniture was dull shapes beneath the protective cloth.

A circular settee sat at the very center of the room, curving beneath the coarse fabric in a way that was surprisingly modern. The scale of the enormous four-poster bed in the farthest visible section of the suite suggested that whoever had once resided here enjoyed high status. The musty silk wall panels drew my eyes to tarnished suits of armor by the hearth. But only for a moment.

Emrys reared back, his breath hitching in his throat. Slowly, with agonizing care, he lifted his foot off a long yellow bone, having narrowly avoided snapping it in two.

More bones littered the ground, some so badly broken, their edges were spiked. The longer I looked, the easier it was to convince myself they'd once been animals—at least until I saw the first skull, carelessly tossed aside beneath a small table.

Human, my mind screamed.

I stepped forward, picking my way through the remains. With a look of extreme reluctance, Emrys followed, taking the opposite side of the room. I looked down the doorways connecting one room to the next, but most had been emptied of their possessions.

It was a moment before I noticed that the air was warmer in this room—almost steaming with that same rotten sewage stench.

While Emrys knelt to look beneath the bed and check under the mattress for the sword, I followed my nose to the source of that smell, gripping the cloth covering what looked to be a large settee. Taking the cloth in hand, I gave it a gentle tug.

It slipped off with a soft swish, meeting no resistance as it skimmed over the slick, gleaming scales of a mountainous spine and pooled on the floor at my feet.

Thunder gathered in my ears as my pulse beat against my skull. My head no longer seemed to be connected to the rest of my body. Out of the corner of my eye, Emrys moved silently, desperately mouthing something to me.

The beast huffed in its sleep, nestling its enormous head against the blood-splattered rug beneath it. It was smaller than I'd imagined as a child, only twice the length of the nearby bed. Its craggy scales reminded me of a crimson sunrise reflected on a distant mountain range. Every spine on every scale looked primed to slice flesh.

Draig Goch. Red dragon.

Its massive tail swished the way a cat's did as it slept. It scraped across the floor, making every piece of glass and tarnished décor shiver like terrified animals. The noise we'd heard before was the dragon shifting its massive weight, settling down in a more comfortable position. The floor rocked beneath my feet as the monster shifted again, bringing its head down to rest against its leg.

My stomach liquefied.

If this was the Beast of Land's End, it was now painfully clear why the kingdom had been abandoned. No blade could pierce the skin of a dragon. No spell, either. It was why Hollowers fought to source the material for their work gloves.

It was why we were going to have to find a way to leave this citadel right now.

The others, I thought, terrified all over again. If they'd come here and been taken by surprise …

Emrys held his hand out toward me, his panicked eyes flicking between me and the slumbering dragon. I took a slow step toward him, avoiding the bones scattered around us. Hot, smoky breath wheezed out between its teeth and through its nostrils, curling in a strangely beautiful pattern as it rose.

Another step.

Another.

I reached my hand toward Emrys, straining for his fingers, for something to steady me when my body was bursting with adrenaline.

The dragon let out another gasping huff, releasing a plume of ash.

One leathery eyelid lifted. A wet, clear membrane peeled back over the burnished gold iris. Both of our faces were reflected in the glistening surface as the dragon lifted its head. As it scented us.

Emrys's hand closed around mine, and, with one last desperate look, we ran.