A Snap-Dragon Stolen Chapter 4: (part 2)

There was a good hour of untaken time between the king’s tea and dormitory dinner service, and as Lark stood in the middle of the Academic Wing lobby, she half-wondered why a position like hers even existed. Unsure of how to consume the time, she took a step towards the guest room hall, then reconsidered and turned to the dorm hall. That didn’t seem to be the right place either, and so she looked down the stairs that led back to the main castle, wondering if any of the other maids had free time. Lark could use a chat.

However, the longer she thought about it, the more wrong the option seemed.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” she muttered.

Cadence made a sound like a baby sparrow begging for food and bounded towards the same hallway where Lark had been taken for interrogation that day.

Lark’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Oh no. We are not going there.”

Rather than reluctantly obeying, Cadence screeched. It was such a high noise that Lark immediately raised both hands to her ears and glanced at the stained glass ceiling to make sure it wasn’t about to rain down on her.

“No,” she said firmly. She was in charge, not the little dragon.

Cadence’s jaws clamped shut, and her wings snapped open, stretching out as wide as possible. Her black eyes flashed a daring challenge.

“We do not fly indoors, Cadence.” Lark tried her best to sound calm, collected, and in-charge, but a suspicious thought nagged at the back of her mind. There was something down that hallway that she needed to see, and whether it was in the interrogation room or the basement, Cadence would not let Lark off the hook.

Narrowing her eyes at Cadence, Lark strode towards the hallway. “Fine,” she said. “But if this doesn’t go well, we both know who forced my hand.”

With good lighting and no impatient apprentice pushing her around, Lark was able to fully appreciate the expanse of laboratories and work rooms. A fully functional smithy lay outside in a courtyard Lark could see through one endless wall of windows. She thought she caught a glimpse of Waverly’s blonde curls, but then Cadence whistled for Lark’s attention and she had to turn down a cramped hall.

For a long while, the walls and countless number of identical doors looked the same as any other part of the complex. It wasn’t until Lark’s nose told her otherwise that she noticed an absence of candle holders and their accompanying herb bags.

Eventually, the hallway dove into the basement through a flight of creaky wooden stairs. As Lark followed Cadence into the depths, she noticed a dent in the second-to-last step. This must have been the route she’d taken earlier.

The staircase opened into a small junction, and the windowless halls took on the very same appearance they’d had the night before. A small, purple splash of color was splattered on the wall to her left, courtesy of Dorian’s magic.

“I think I can guess where we’re headed,” Lark said, glancing behind her. This was not a wise idea.

Cadence only mimicked the sound of birds walking through pond reeds, which meant Lark was not supposed to talk.

The two of them chose the left hallway, which seemed to match up with Lark’s recollection of events, but after that, the path twisted and crossed so many times that Lark no longer knew which way she was facing. At some point, they’d passed a candleholder without a white bag hanging from it, but that gave no relief to Lark’s disorientation.

Cadence was about to turn left when a voice suddenly echoed off the walls. Lark’s muscles stiffened, and electricity danced along her nerves. She dared not take another step, and thankfully, neither did Cadence.

“I swear, Silvia, it’s always this door. We’ve been searching it for clues for almost five years, gone through over twenty-six housekeepers in the meantime, and still found nothing. Is it some kind of magic?”

“Cambert, you know as well as I do that no magic in the world can hide what we’re looking for. No magic can hide the twenty-one dead bodies that should have disappeared into this room either. That kind of invisibility is simply unachievable.”

“Sebastian?” asked the first voice. “What do you make of it?”

Drat. He was here.

“I can’t see any new clues, Your Highnesses,” Sebastian said. A buzzing noise started up, and he spoke again. “And stop that, Oliver.”

“I don’t know,” said the lady’s voice. “Your dragon seems very keen on going in the room. You don’t usually bring him around with you, do you?”

“Alas, Oliver has a tendency to knock things over if I think an experiment might explode, just to keep me from conducting it.”

Lark bit her lip and tiptoed to the end of the wall. She leaned against the corner, her focus pushing to the very edges of her peripherals. The “Highnesses” that Sebastian was speaking with, they were probably Prince Cambert and his fiance, the Duchess Silvia, right? Why were they in the basement?

“Are your instincts usually right, Sebastian?” the prince asked. “I mean, that is what our dragons pick up on, so if you suspect something, it shows.”

A moment of silence passed, probably from Sebastian shaking his head. “My instincts are about fifty percent right. I do suspect something is wrong with that room, but I do not know how we would ever find out what.”

“Well,” said the Duchess, her voice short and clipped, “why don’t we just go in? Again.”

Hinges squeaked, and a few light footsteps tapped along the floor. Lark could just barely see Sebastian standing outside the open door, his head turned towards the room. A tiny green dragon perched on his shoulder, leaning over to see past his ear.

Only a minute or so passed before the duchess and prince stepped back into the hallway, though Lark felt as though she’d been standing for hours. Her knees wobbled as she waited for them to pass judgement on the room.

“Everything is exactly the same as it was the last time,” said the prince.

“You mean the same as it is every time? I don’t understand how so many people can say they saw a new dragon species in this room, yet we never find anything.” The duchess’s voice squeaked with frustration, and Lark imagined a a pile of curls coiling in rage.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to avoid giggling and listened as the prince placated his fiance.

“Relax,” he said, “I’m sure we’ll find something someday. Say, why don’t we bring our dragons next time? I know it’ll be a tight fit, but surely they can help.”

A pattering of footsteps followed, gradually fading away along with the duchess’s bitter statements. A few seconds after the group was out of earshot, Lark peeked into the hallway and darted to the door. Cadence followed, trilling soft encouragement.

Putting a hand on the doorknob, Lark took a deep breath. She glanced at Cadence, turned the knob, and walked into the room.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it really was empty. Four plastered walls and a wooden floor, all of them clean and unscratched, met her eyes. Her footsteps did not sound any different from normal, and the air smelled the same as the rest of the basement. It was a tad cold, and no candles were lit, but nothing struck Lark as odd.

Well, no. That was exactly what was so odd about it. How could twenty-one bodies and the mystery dragon Sebastian had wrangled out of Lark’s mind disappear into a room with no trace? The royalty were so keen on learning about the room, yet when Sebastian questioned her, he’d acted as though he already knew all there was, and that Lark would be in trouble for knowing the same.

It was all very confusing, Lark decided. She turned to Cadence and pursed her lips.

“I think we should go back,” she said.

Cadence whistled a wavering, uncertain note.

“Besides,” Lark continued, “I told waverly just this morning that I wasn’t going to involve myself in anything dangerous, and I need to stick to that plan as closely as possible.” Nodding to herself, she spun on her heels and strode back into the hallway.

As she shut the door behind her, Lark glanced both directions. She slunk to the corner where she’d eavesdropped, then realized how suspicious slinking was and straightened.

“If I get into trouble again,” she said, frowning at Cadence, “I'm blaming you. Now please tell me you remember the way back.”

Cadence rustled her wings and grinned, which only set off a fresh cloud of exasperation in Lark’s mind. The little dragon bounded ahead, prancing impatiently as Lark followed at a slower, more even pace. Very slowly, and with much nudging and whimpering from Cadence, the pair meandered back through the basement hallways and up the stairs.

One gong pierced the air as Lark finally reached the first floor. She counted the rings subconsciously, her mind barely processing until Cadence chattered a stream of mid-range notes.

Five-fifteen.

Lark jumped; her loose hair frizzed in panic. “I can’t believe it!” she cried, “I’m going to be late for dinner delivery!” After cringing at Cadence for a millisecond–what would the other staff think of her bringing the dragon into the kitchen?– she gave up worrying and stormed through the expanse of work rooms.

As she ran into the main lobby, Lark collided face-first into someone tall. Her first thought was Dorian, but the unmistakable feeling of lush velvet had brushed against her forehead for a split second. Stepping back, Lark dropped into a curtsey and bowed her head.

“I-I’m so sorry!” she stuttered. No apprentice wore velvet, so Lark already knew to stay low until given some kind of acknowledgement.

“I don’t appreciate being bumped into,” said a calm, low voice, “but I suppose what has passed has passed. Rise, and give me your name, please.”

Shaking, Lark stood and faced her victim. She found she had to tilt her head up a bit, and that despite the voice, it was really a lady at whom she was looking. For a moment, all Lark could do was gape and blink, because if there could be only one beauty in the world, this woman would be it.

Slender and proud, the lady emanated regality. Her slightly greying hair was curled and pinned so that every sharp feature could glare at the world, and her eyes blazed in a fiery golden brown that shone brighter than the jeweled broach holding up her shawl.

“Name?”

Lark gasped, eyes flitting about the room as she formed the syllables. “L-Lark, Head h-housekeeper of this wing.”

Eyebrows raised in contempt, the lady looked at something on the far wall. “Ah, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you long then. Perhaps we’ll meet again, and we can be properly introduced.” Then the lady brushed her voluminous skirts with spidery fingers and strolled away, leaving Lark starstruck and still.

Cadence headbutted Lark’s knees several seconds later and sang a soft, airy note.

“Of course,” Lark said, shaking. She wiped her hands on her skirt, wondering how and when they’d gotten clammy. “I need to hurry.”