Alyx remained silent, although he could feel her tension in the way her fingers clenched around his own.
With his sharp dragon senses, he kept feeling for that sensation of flame that had approached—and his heart skipped a beat when the dragon didn’t change its course.
The shifter was headed right for the tunnel they were hiding in.
Braeden lengthened his stride. Alyx kept silent, although he could see the way she turned her head in shock when there was a sudden sound echoing down the corridor.
It was the sound of claws striking stone. The dragon had landed.
As they kept hurrying down the tunnel, Braeden tried the first door they came past.
It was locked.
Braeden grimaced. He could’ve easily forced it open with a tiny ball of flame used on the lock, but that would surely attract the attention of whoever was walking down this tunnel now.
Then Alyx’s fingers dug into his. She pulled him onward when he hesitated in front of another door.
She shook her head. A moment later, he realized why.
A sensation of flame, dim and not very strong—but flame regardless.
A fire dragon shifter was in that room. A weak one, who was probably asleep. A servant, he assumed, and not a guard. Still. Even a servant could raise an alarm...
Alyx began to run. Now it was she who was pulling him along.
A moment later she stopped in front of another door. The sounds of someone coming down the tunnel were louder now. Whoever it was must have shifted—Braeden could hear the sound of boots.
A guard, probably. Maybe someone sent to patrol this tunnel.
Alyx tried the door—and a moment later bit back a curse.
“Shit! It's locked. Can you—”
Before Braeden could try to force the lock, there was a sudden click. Then the door opened.
And before Braeden stood a woman in her forties, her hair red except for one streak of white. The living flame of his own heart was dancing in her eyes, her features aristocratic, with high cheekbones and jewelry that gleamed in her hair.
The flame in her eyes challenged him. Braeden felt his own fire rise. For a moment, he could see nothing but fire: fire trailing through a dark sky, like a shooting star...
No, like feathers falling...?
Then, unceremoniously, they were yanked inside and the door hastily locked after them.
“Don't just stand there like idiots,” the woman hissed. “Hurry. You'd think you want to be caught!”
Without allowing them to get a word in, she turned and hastened towards a door on the other side of the room. She held it open, then turned to look at them in annoyance.
“What are you waiting for?”
“Lady Zena,” Alyx began, “we are—”
“Yes, yes,” the woman said haughtily. “I know what you're up to. You need to hide. So go and hide in my wardrobe already, will you?”
Braeden nodded and gave her a curt bow. Now was not the time to figure out who—or what—she was. Right now, she seemed to want to help them. That was all that mattered.
“And be quiet,” Zena said with the natural arrogance of someone who was used to being obeyed.
Then the door closed behind them, and they were trapped in a small, dark room.