Andromeda

Chapter 3

Five feet in and Andromeda already hated the staircase.

The walls were made of moist dirt that crumbled when she touched it, but the stairs themselves were stone. The only light came from the ball of magic in her hand.

Maybe I should turn back. It's probably just some old storeroom Chamomile never told me about.

But the curiosity and mystery of it all was too much—besides, if she went back to Sorren now, they would just say "I told you so" and Andromeda would never hear the end of it. She just needed to go down there, find Dragon getting something from the storeroom, and ask what he was doing last night. Then he would give her a completely normal, reasonable answer, and everything would be fine.

It's kind of a weird place for a storeroom, though, her mind whispered. Why not have it back at camp?

Shut up, she thought back.

Halfway down the staircase, Andromeda dissolved the line connecting her to Dragon. The closer she got the more noticeable it would be, and if she needed to stay hidden... not that it would do her much good with Dragon's mindreading.

A chill had grown by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, penetrating her very soul. There was a door at the end of the staircase, the wood old and starting to rot through, and the once-golden knob was now covered in rust.

"I'm tired of waiting, Dragon."

The voice stopped Andromeda in her tracks. It was Belladonna, the same person who was with Dragon last night. Her voice was sharpened to a precise point, ready to pierce her target.

"I just—I need more time. Please." That was Dragon. "I'll have something figured out in a couple of weeks, I promise."

"You say a couple of weeks, but you mean a month, maybe two. Isn't that right?" The point in Belladonna's voice pressed a little harder.

"I--"

"Don't lie to me, Dragon."

"I'm not! It's just that with Chamomile gone, I have more time--"

Andromeda drew in a sharp breath. Chamomile? What does her leaving have to do with anything?

Dragon paused, and she silently cursed herself. Of course, the mindreading.

"Dragon?" Belladonna said. "Is someone there?"

"N-no. I just thought of something, but it's not important."

"Hm. Well, either way, we need something to work with."

Andromeda found a hole in the door and slowly lowered herself to peek through it. The room beyond was small, perfectly square, and lit by a single candle. Dragon's and Belladonna's faces were cast in shadows, but she could've sworn Dragon's gaze flicked to her for just a moment.

"Well... if she's gone, we don't need to act yet. We can wait until she comes back to decide if we should have an open confrontation or--"

"There'll be no need for that. I don't need your indecisiveness. I'll send someone out now, and they'll take care of it. Just tell me where she is."

Dragon hesitated before unfurling a scroll and spreading it on the table in the center of the room. "I've been putting together what I could from Chamomile's thoughts. It's not much, really; she's surprisingly good at shielding her mind, but she still reveals some things to me. Apparently, I'm one of the only people she trusts." He gave Belladonna a sad smile. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Andromeda's hopes started to sink. Sorren was right. They—they've betrayed her.

She was about to leave to go warn someone—she wasn't sure who, with Chamomile gone—but Dragon shot her another look. Not a warning or a threat, but more of a pleading. Like there was something he needed to show her.