“Ah, sleeping beauty wakes. I didn’t know dragons would take to a stunning potion so well. I hope your rest was pleasant.”
I expected an accent of some kind, maybe French or Scottish, but he sounds like your average American with no discernible dialect.
“Why did you stun me?”
“Because you were following me, of course. I have every right to protect myself, don’t I?”
“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my head. “Where am I?”
“That’s a secret.” He sets down the small glass jar he was holding with the swirling green liquid in it. “I’ll let you go as soon as I understand why you’re hunting me.”
“You took something I need. The cursed amulet of Belinda Legarr.”
Rune tilts his head, his floppy hair following the gesture. “Why do you need it?”
“So you did take it?”
“Perhaps. What could an immortal dragon want with it though?”
“I’m not immortal. I just live a long time.”
“Looking to extend beyond the thousands of years you were already granted?”
“No. I need it for…” For what? I don’t even know what my cause or purpose is. “Because I do.”
“Well, that’s too bad, handsome dragon. You can’t have it. It’s my mission to prevent it from getting into the wrong hands, and I don’t know you or if you can be trusted. So, no.”
He says it so matter-of-factly I’m almost amused.
“Too bad I don’t always wait for consent when I want something.”
Rune chuckles. “Think you can steal from me? Not a chance. Maybe you know my name, but you obviously don’t know anything about me. I’m not afraid of you.”
“I have a team and they’ll be looking for me.” I glance at my hand, surprisingly comforted that the glamour is gone and my mate ring is on full display.
“La dee da, they’ll never find you. You’re my prisoner until further notice.”
Alenor’s warnings ping around my chest. Maybe I can soften him up by talking more. “What do you plan to do with it?”
“As I said, I’m keeping it out of the hands of people who would use it for harm.”
“But did you see what you did to Belinda? You tortured her.”
Rune lifts an eyebrow, and I notice the crease in his forehead. “Itortured her? Oh dear. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into with the amulet. Have you even asked yourself why it’s cursed?”
“Because Belinda cursed it?”
He clicks his teeth, walking slowly around the table. Even though I’ve got several pounds on him, his presence is weirdly intimidating. “Belinda didn’t curse it. She was the victim of its curse. She used it in a moment of need without understanding its power. Did you see her with your own eyes?”
“Yes.”
“The magic keeping her alive was cruel. She sat in that same chair you found her in for hundreds of years while everything around her crumbled, unable to leave the village, unable to properly function. Stuck. The only way to release her was to take away the amulet and lock it under protective magic. Which I’ve done.” He preens a bit. “Something no one else has successfully done in centuries.”
“How did you?”
“Research and skill.” He adjusts the cuff of his shirt. “And many, many attempts. So if you think for one second I’m just going to hand it over to a potential evildoer, you’re wrong.”
So much for warming him up. “Did you know that the magic lingered and Belinda was stuck between realms?”
