Rise of the Phoenix

Chapter 5: The Escape

I awoke with my head pounding and my throat dry. It felt as if I’d consumed an entire barrel of wine. Besides that, I did feel more comfortable than I had felt in a long time. My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the fire as I realized the sun hadn’t even risen yet. A large figured snored comfortably in a chair. 

Not the Prince, I realized, but his blond Lothario friend. Part of me didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed. It was downy soft and clean, with warm furs piled on top of me. It was certainly nothing like the filthy, piss-soaked floor I had slept on the week before. 

My very bones protested as I dragged my aching body out of bed quietly so as not to wake the snoring Desmond. A small, wooden chair held a neatly folded pile of clothing and pair of boots. Thank the gods one of these dragon idiots had the foresight to find me proper clothing. I snatched the clothing off the chair as if someone would appear suddenly and take it away from me. It was only simple peasant’s clothing, but they were fresh and clean. Thankfully, it wasn’t a dress— pair of leggings, stockings, and a tunic. The cloak I had worn the day before was still draped over the chair. They were probably a boy’s clothes, but they’d do just fine. 

We appeared to be in some type of inn, by the looks of it. We couldn’t have gone too far in one day, still, I had no idea where we were, and I’d seen my fair share of inns. Desmond didn’t so much as stir as I changed out of the napkin dress, much to my relief. 

This was my chance to escape. I couldn’t quite remember why, but something about the Prince’s words when I started to doze off had made me uneasy. I would be far away before they realized I was gone, and I sincerely doubted they come after me with a wagon load of slaves. I could even fly until the sun came up. I usually didn’t risk shifting but I’d make an exception to escape dragons. I carried the boots with me to put on in the hallway since I didn’t know how much stuffing I’d have to do to make them fit. Before I left, I made sure to throw the napkin dress over Desmond’s lap— just a little something to remember me by. 

The hallway was blissfully dark and quiet, but I could hear low voices coming from the main room down the stairs. I knelt quietly to pull on the boots, listening for any sign of the Prince. What I heard instead sent shivers down my spine. 

“I’m telling you, Aaron, knicked it from the dragon Prince himself! A bonafide dragon-steel manacle!” A voice was speaking in what I suspected was what a drunk man’s rendition of a whisper. 

“Bullshit!” another voice exclaimed. “A dragon would have killed you before you could even take your hands out of his pockets.”

“Aye, I suppose he could have, but he was half-seas-over already. Didn’t even notice me because Claudia got her hooks in him and followed him back to his camp.”

“You’re shitting me! You’re going to rob a dragon prince?”

“No! He’d track me down and kill me. No, I’m going to kill him first.”

“You’re going to kill dragon royalty?!” 

“Think of the gold the Fire King will gift me for his head!” 

“And just how do you plan to kill him, genius?”

“I just have to wait for Claudia to give the signal, then she’ll cuff the dragon with the dragon-steel and I’ll make my move. So are you in, Aaron? I could use someone else handy with a sword.”

“No! I will have no part in this fool scheme! You will lose your life this night.”

“Hrmph! You wouldn’t know a good opportunity if it slapped you across that ugly crotch you call a face!”

At least one of them had some sense. My breath hitched as I ran through my options. I could always wake Desmond, but by the time I woke him and explained everything, who knows if it’d be too late? Already I heard scuffling as one of them moved towards the door. 

“Goodbye, Mort. I’ll bring flowers to your widow,” the sane man called out from the bar room. A grunt through the door was the only response.  

Shit. Oh, s**t.

My decision was made in that instant. I would trail Mort, immediately, and as fast as I could. Hopefully I could scrounge up some sort of weapon. Maybe the Prince could take care of himself, but if what they said was true, he’d gotten sloppy and drunk and put himself in danger all for a bit of skirt. Men. 

Still, i***t or not, he had paid a thousand gold pieces to free me, and I owed him for that, even if he had accidentally hypnotized me with his weird mating smell. We’d have to discuss that later. 

I pulled the boots on and laced them as quickly as I could, pulling the hood of my cloak over my head to conceal my face. I slipped down the stairs and out the door so quickly I wasn’t sure if the would-be accomplice even heard me until I shut the door. 

I heard the drunken assassin stumbling across a field towards what I assumed was the Prince’s camp in the distance. There was a large tent to one side with a fire, and a hundred paces east of it a larger fire surrounded by bedrolls where the wagon was stationed. Gods, this Mort really was an i***t of the highest order if he thought he could do this easily. I supposed the threat of constant war and never-ending poverty made people insanely desperate. The ice and fire dragons had been fighting for decades, and poor Beinna was always caught in the middle. 

I slipped through the shadows following the oblivious Mort as he stalked along the edge of the camp towards the large tent. I was a particularly adept sneak, but it wouldn’t have mattered if I wasn’t, because Mort was terrifyingly drunk and only paying attention to what was in front of him. 

I hid behind a shrub when he approached the tent. If only I knew what his signal was, this would be so much easier. The only noises I could hear were crickets, and I realized that Mort must be eavesdropping on the tent waiting for Claudia to make her move. 

I listened, too, my slightly superior hearing giving me the advantage. I was fully prepared to hear a grody dragon-on-human f**k session. Instead I was treated to a vulnerable, drunken dragon prince barring his soul. 

“No, you don’t understand, human. She’s absolute perfection in every way I could ever imagine,” the Prince confessed. “Made for me, you could say.”

What the f**k? This dragon was about to get himself killed because he was distracted by a love affair? Rookie mistake, Your Highness.

“Then I don’t understand what’s stopping you,” the female voice replied. 

“Things are complicated. I am not my own man, not yet.”

“That’s so silly!” Claudia giggled. “What could possibly stop a dragon prince from getting what he wants?”

“A dragon king,” Tai laughed bitterly. 

“I think you’re thinking too much into this,” Claudia purred. “Come, let me take care of you.”

“I told you, love, even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t work. Limp as a stocking! You can thank sleeping beauty for that,” Tai slurred. Claudia let out an indignant huff. 

Holy gods! What in the blazes was he talking about? It seemed painfully obvious I must be sleeping beauty, but what did I have to do with his whiskey d**k? I certainly didn’t force him to imbibe. Once I stopped Mort, I was getting the f**k out of here. 

I had enough waiting. Mort had at least one sword and at least one dagger judging by his belt, and I had nothing, but I’d been in worse situations before. Focusing my fury, I sent a blast of fire at his sword, hoping it would heat the metal and make it impossible to hold. 

At the last second, a curse and a feminine shriek from inside the tent distracted me. 

“Now, Mort!” Claudia screamed. Everything around me froze.