“You call this a little banged up?”Alaric roared, shifting his wing back to reveal several deep lacerations carved into his breast. Chunks of flesh had been gouged out of his flank. Pink streaks shot beneath his scales—a sign of infection.
My stomach rolled, but I locked my jaw.
Already weakened from King Idris’ barbaric zoo, Alaric had been slow to dodge the hunter’s poisoned arrows. After the bastards failed to shoot the dragon out of the sky, they’d managed to get their grappling hooks into him. Tearing free had cost him dearly.
My upper lip curled with a sneer. “I’ve seen worse.” But never on him.
“Go to hell, Thorne.”Alaric rose from his nest, his spiked tail swinging dangerously close to my head. I dove for cover as it swept over me.
Once the massive beast had stormed past, I picked myself up off the floor in time to see him heading for the flight deck. “Where are you going?” He was in no condition to fly.
“To the healing waters,”his voice thundered in my skull.“And if you value your life, you won’t follow.”
The mountain trembled with the force of his wingbeats as he launched from the deck. I stood there, chest heaving, the echo of his departure rattling my bones.
The air reeked of smoke and sickness. He thought the curse was done with him. Maybe it was. But I wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Four
SERAFINA
“The blue one.No. No. Notthatblue one. The other blue one. The one that matches my eyes,” Lady Penelope demanded.
Oh,thatblue dress. The soulless blue that matched her vile eyes. The same eyes that were quick to flood with tears anytime she didn’t get what she wanted.
The high ruler’s daughter lounged on her rumpled bed, head propped on her hand. I replaced the last blue dress she’d rejected and produced another in an identical shade.
She gave it a slow, appraising squint, then flopped back in a fit of lace and garters. “Ugh! I havenothingto wear. Daddy doesn’t understand.”
“How about one of the green dresses?”
Penelope snapped upright as if I’d suggested she wear sackcloth, an ugly snarl distorting her features. “Green? I can’t wear green to a comet celebration. What the hell do you know about ladies’ fashion anyway, you fat buffoon?”
“Absolutely nothing, my lady.” I forced my face into an obedient mask, revealing no emotion.
“That’s right. Nothing. Why Daddy insists on saddling me withyouinstead of a proper lady’s maid, I’ll never understand.”
I’d been remarkably patient with the brat—saint-like, really—given the number of times I’d resisted smacking her. Not that it mattered. In Penelope’s eyes, I was little more than a worthless slave. And in her more generous moods, a fat buffoon, a boorish ignoramus, or an ugly trollop.
The irony? We could pass for sisters—close in age, nearly identical in build. The only differences were my wild flame-red hair and her dull, rust-colored mop.
“If we don’t get you dressed soon, my lady, you’ll be late for the celebration feast.” As usual. The lazy noble had never been on time to anything her whole life.
“Iknowthat, you imbecile. Do you think I don’t know that?”
I ignored her rancid outburst, keeping my tone even. “I hear Cookie has prepared her special honey cakes for the evening meal.”
That got her attention. Penelope sniffed, pretending she wasn’t swayed. “Very well. I suppose the pink will do.” She moved to the middle of the room, raising her arms so I could dress her. The pink made her face look blotchy and her hair brassy. But what did a buffoon like me know?
Like most Puritan gowns, it swaddled her from ankle to wrist to chin, preventing even a small glimpse of bare skin. And yet it was still a fine example of Penelope’s penchant for excess with its heavily layered skirt. There was enough fabric in the one dress to clothe half of the women in the village. If the seamstress thought to use the excess to give the bony woman curves, she’d failed.
I cinched the laces tight while Penelope tapped her foot in irritation. “For fate’s sake. Hurry up, you simpleton. You’ve already made me late enough as it is.”
Once I slid her slippers on and tamed the last of her tightlycoiled hair, she flounced to the door. “And do clean up the disaster you created while I’m gone.”
I eyed the heap of rejected blue gowns, an entire garment graveyard on her floor. “As you wish, Princess Pain-in-My-Ass,” I grumbled under my breath.
After wrangling the discarded dresses back into their wardrobe, I straightened the room, then laid her sleeping gown over the foot of her bed. That done, I headed out to eat dinner while I had a few minutes to spare. I’d barely taken two steps into the hallway when a disdainful voice brought me to a stop.
