The Ghost of Adsophel

Seven.

Zach found the ruins when he was eighteen. After weeks locked up in his office, he announced, wild-eyed, that he was going on a trip. He refused to let me pack for him. He left for nine days. None of the staff had a clue where he was; Eric didn't even know he'd left.

Thea, who'd been promoted to Zach's personal consultant, was furious. "We've spent months together looking over those scrolls. I was helping him put together a map to the ruins. Then suddenly, nope, doesn't need me anymore! What a prick. Sorry, Silv, you know it's true." I was silent, watching her pace around my bedroom and tug her hair. She'd cut it short, honey-blonde strands stopping just below her jaw. It suited her high cheekbones and upturned nose. "You know what, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he's on some confidential business trip and he's been working on something completely different for the past month. If he'd let me into his fucking office..."

Her first guess, though, was right. Three days later, Zach stumbled through the front doors of the palace, announced, "I found them," and collapsed with fever.

I convinced the medics to let him sleep in our bed, and made him tea with crimson lavender. He slept for thirty hours, sweaty and frigid, crying out in his sleep. I stayed by the bed and pressed damp cloths to his sticky forehead and wondered why some men had to be born so reckless.

His fever broke all at once. He woke sharply, locking his bleary gaze on mine. "Silvia. How long ago did I get home?"

It took me a moment to formulate the words. I was too taken aback by his irises, which were no longer pitch dark. The edges had turned deep crimson, fading to white near the pupil. "About two days," I said. He examined himself. A few assistants had helped me change him into sleep clothes, and I could see alarm register in the furrow of his forehead.

"Did you remove anything from my pockets?"

"No. But I didn't let them take your clothes to be washed," I said, pointing to the corner where his dirty clothes were folded atop his travel bag, also untouched.

"Thank you," he said, stumbling over and digging through his trouser pockets. With trembly fingers, he extracted a long vial filled with a dark, viscous liquid. "This, darling, is the most important thing I've ever found." He collapsed back on his haunches, and I was unsure if his muscles gave out or if he was being dramatic. "I understand everything."

I smiled. He was electric, a bundle of nerves and elation and manic confusion. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to be in a different room. "You should take a bath," I said, "And I'll bring some soup, and Thea. Then you can tell me."

An hour later, we circled up on the bedroom rug. Dionysus, who'd gone with Zach and been in a fit since they returned, was pecking at a bowl of seeds I gave him. Zach devoured the soup, and now the three of us were working through a pot of grey tea.

Zach fished the vial back out. It looked like congealed blood, sticky and almost black. Thea's jaw fell open when he turned it to her. "Can't be," she muttered. She held out a hand, and after a long beat of hesitation, Zach let her take it.

"It is," he said. "There was a whole lake. A lake can you believe it! The cave must've been half the size of the city."

"Shit," whispered Thea, at the same time I prompted, "Dragon's blood?"

Zach glanced at me with those strange red eyes and grinned. "Oh, darling, you have no idea, do you? Thea and I've been speculating that the dragons maintained their palace via a reservoir of their own blood. A permanent anchor, a reposit of pure power to keep them in the sky. If a reservoir like this existed, it would theoretically keep the palace from decaying. We thought it would only have to be a little pool, but, well, we weren't considering the sheer size of the dragons."