Chapter 9: The Stable Fire

Maelis found the old wing hall by following the sound of a heartbeat.

It came up through the stone floor of the north corridor, slow and enormous.

She had skipped breakfast to find it.

She had barely slept after the chest, and Torvald had not said another word about her mother.

He had only held her all night with his face in her hair.

At the end of the corridor stood two huge doors of bound timber.

A pair of guards watched them.

"No one goes in, my lady," one said. "The king's orders."

"I am the king's wife."

"Not in the wing, my lady."

She was about to argue when the boy with the coal basket came running up the corridor.

"Lady Maelis! Lady Maelis!"

He skidded to a halt in front of her, red-faced and grinning.

"I'm not supposed to be here either," he whispered. "But I bring his dragon honey cakes."

"His dragon."

"The big black one. He can't fly. He's sad." The boy lowered his voice even further. "He likes me."

She looked at the guards.

The guards looked at the ceiling.

"Five minutes," one muttered, and unbarred the doors.

The hall beyond was a cavern the size of a cathedral.

Straw lay thick across the floor, and tall iron lamps burned with low gold flame along the walls.

In the middle of the straw, curled like a cat, lay a dragon.

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