Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle

The passage was dark. The only source of light was the tiny magical bubble in her cupped fingers. As she walked down the passage she could see dusty brackets on the wall, intended for torches. They were adorned with thick cobwebs. It was doubtful this tunnel was used anymore.

The passage wasn't long. Mellary kept an image of the street in her mind, marking her passage under it and into the palace. Finally she came up to a blank wall with a rusted ladder. It looked so frail that Mellary doubted it could hold her weight. She looked up and saw the trapdoor. She extinguished her light, plunging her into complete blackness. Her eyes began to go wild; red streaks appeared on the edges of her vision.

Mellary found the ladder and climbed up carefully. Making sure not to hit her head on the stone trap door, she closed her eyes and whispered words that would enhance her hearing. She listened for any scrap of sound, whether it was the thud of footsteps, a heartbeat, or even the whisper of an intake of breath. She heard nothing. Satisfied that there was no one above her, Mellary pushed on the trap door. It swung open. Dim silver light of the rising moon reached her eyes. Mellary threw the trapdoor back and climbed out.

She was in a storage room. It hadn't been used in some time; inches of dust covered everything. A thin window that was too high to see out of was letting in the light. Stacks of boxes rose up around her. Mellary shook the dust off her stolen dress and lowered the trapdoor shut, careful not to let it make a sound.

The door had a rusted handle that looked like it was about to break off. But when she tried the door it held firm, locked. Mellary knelt next to the door and pulled her lock picks out from under her dress. The lock was an old one, and it didn't take her long to get it open. She listened again for footsteps outside the door. It would make her job much more complicated, if she had to explain what she was doing in an unused store room that had been locked for the past few years.

Confident that no one was coming, Mellary dusted herself off again and walked out. She was in a small back hallway, lit from above by a smoky lamp that hung from the ceiling. Mellary shut the door and twisted the lock behind her. She set off down the hallway, following the pull.

The palace had a grand face. As she worked her way toward the front of the palace the decorations became more elaborate, carvings and little statues appearing in niches in the wall. The floors turned from plain, worn stone to shiny marble. She began to pass servants going every which way. Most of them were holding something or another and they rushed by, heads down. Mellary could see the weariness on their faces. She passed by an unattended basket of dusting rags. Mellary snagged a few and tucked them into her belt, twisting one between her fingers.

Unlike the city, the palace had a clear layout. The hallways here straight and wide, mostly formed in square patterns, where the city streets were twisting paths that could lead anywhere. The city was a maze, the palace was the opposite. It made following the pull in her mind easier.

The presence led her deep into the palace, much deeper than she was comfortable with. She followed it to toward the heart of the palace, where the noble's dining rooms were. As Mellary walked past two giant gold doors she flinched and slid sideways into the shadows. The presence led her to a narrow staircase set into the wall. She went down two flights of stairs. If being in the palace made her jumpy, being underground was ten times worse. Every shadow, of which there were many, made her jump.

There were no servants down here. If Mellary got caught she had no excuse for being down here.

She passed by big doors, most likely reinforced iron, with fancy locks on the outside. She was happy to walk straight past them. If the pull was coming from inside one of those, there was no way she was getting in and getting out of the palace alive. Finally she found the door. It was a simple door, the standard cast iron. The lock on the front was a little more complex than the one on the storeroom door, but it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before.

Mellary had it open in a few minutes with her lock picks. She tucked the slim strips of metal back into her pockets with a thankful pat. The latch turned easily. Mellary pulled the door toward her. It didn't budge. She pushed it away. It still didn't move.

Mellary frowned and wiggled it back and forth .She heard something on the other side rattle slightly. Dead bolted from the inside.

Mellary shook the door, listening for the sound. It was coming from near her head, right under the ear she had pressed up against the door.

She placed her fingers over the spot and whispered to the metal. She slid her fingers across the door. The deadbolt followed with a clunk as it came free of the door. Mellary smiled to herself and pushed the door open. She swung in and shut it quietly behind her. She slid the deadbolt back into place and turned around.

The room mostly looked like the storage room she had come in through. There were boxes lined up against the walls and stacked up two or three high. Mellary knocked on one with a fist. A metallic rattle, sounding like coins, came from the inside. Settled on everything was a fine layer of dust.

There was one thing, sitting in the middle of the room, that didn't have dust on it. A wooden pedestal, carved like a giant claw, stood in the middle of the room. A velvet blanket hid whatever it was cradling. She could see little bits of straw poking out from under the velvet blanket. The pull in her mind grew, forcefully insisting she come closer and remove the cover. Mellary could swear it sounded excited. Excited and nervous.

She reached out and stroked the velvet. It was the softest ting she had felt in years. It felt like swan's down, or the fur of a new born fawn. Mellary curled her fingers around the edge slowly. If she was ever going to go back, this would be the moment. This was when she could turn around, leave and not look back. The absolute point of no return. She couldn't say how, but she knew her life was about to change. For better or worse, she couldn't tell.

The presence begged. Mellary swallowed and whipped the blanket off.

She gasped, and the velvet slipped from her suddenly limp fingers and fell to the floor. Mellary could only stare. She had heard stories, but still…

Before her, in a nest cupped in the carved claw and lined with straw and velvet, were two stones, side by side. Each was as big as her head. One was a deep shade of blood-red ruby. The other was the most perfect shade of emerald she had ever seen. They both had veins of white spidering over the surface, dividing it in to uneven facets.

Mellary knew what they were even though she had never seen one. Dragon eggs.

She was in such trouble now. She knew that in the back of her mind. She would never be able to smuggle a dragon egg out of the Imperial Palace of Dras-Leona.

But that had all faded to the back of her mind. Slowly, overcoming all other thoughts, was a feeling of joy. Joy, happiness, and… love. It took over her mind, pervading every corner with a rich sensation, like she was slowly being covered in warm honey. She had felt something like this, once. A long time ago. It stirred a deep longing within her.

But it all fled in an instant as a click reached her ears.

Mellary whirled and stared at the door in horror. The deadbolt was sliding across the door, away from the latch. It clicked and began to turn as Mellary looked wildly from side to side. There was nowhere to hide. There was nowhere to run. She was trapped.

The door opened. The person who had opened it looked at her with astonishment in his maroon eyes. A shade. Things had just gone from very bad to much, much worse. Her life expectancy had just been cut drastically short. And to make the terror complete, behind the shade stood the King.

Mellary gulped.