There was only one way out of this, with both of us alive…
I crept nearer to the edge of the rockface, halfway expecting him to stop me, but Taron appeared to be fighting his own personal torment.
“Kill me,” he roared.
“Don’t summon me again, professor,” I snapped.
“So that’s how you want to play this?” He traced his tongue over his teeth. “You run for cover and leave your greatest enemy behind. Very well. I won’t summon you. I won’t need to. We’re now connected. You’ll come to me.”
Determined to prove him wrong, I hurled myself over the ledge.
Chapter
Three
If they call you cute, show them your teeth. Slowly.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
Wind shrieked past my ears as gravity took over. Down I tumbled, fighting to release my smokewings. As weak as I was, as fast as I was falling, the rush of air offered thousands of pounds of resistance against me…
Just before I hit, the smokewings unfurled in a burst, hardening and catching on the current. My momentum decreased between one heartbeat and the next, and a cry left me. Blessed relief.
Though it hurt in ways I’d never experienced, I angled my body and glided over the ground. Lifting. Soon, I was flying toward the traveling stones. To freedom. Life. And yet…
That undeniable tug of yearning still tethered me below. I didn’t mean to, but I craned my neck to glance atTaron over my shoulder. He stood at the edge of the cliff, a bow and arrow in hand but not aimed. He simply watched me, the air around him all but crackling with intensity. The Chains of O rested at his feet.
My breath hitched at the ferocity in his expression. Why hadn’t I grabbed the chains while I’d had the chance? They might return to him through some mystical force I didn’t understand, as they always did, but at least I’d have a reprieve fromsomething.
Focus. I was weakening fast, my neck throbbing. But when I flew through the doorway between worlds and reached up to apply pressure to the wound caused by the Yrnblade, I encountered unmarred flesh. No gash. No scab. No scar. I’d healed far faster than even immortality should allow.
Healing like that wasn’t a blessing but a warning. And that wasn’t even the most startling change in me: the yearning for Taron resurfaced with greater force. Unacceptable!
Anger powered the rest of my flight. As my soldiers came into view, I masked myself in white smoke, bellowed “Part,” and flew through the path they created, arrowing for my bedroom. Once past the balcony, I ceased fighting, crashed and rolled. When I stopped, I was dizzy and panting. Sweating. Exhausted inside and out. I ached to close my eyes, but knew I’d only seehisface, so I kept them wide open. At least I had pretty things to look at.
There was a stereotype about dragons and their hoards, and I hated to admit it was accurate. The room pulsed with my personality. Shelves gilded in gold strained beneath my prized collections.
Music boxes of every shape and size filled every inch of the bottom row. Precious gems encrustedsome of the boxes. Others were made of mirrored glass and shaped like castles. When opened, they played lullabies, long-lost melodies or battle hymns. Sounds Adelaide called “unbearable.” I found it soothing.
The middle shelf housed my collection of broken weapons taken from would-be assassins. Several were framed; still more were stacked carelessly. It all depended on how fierce the fight had been.
My teacups and saucers occupied the top tier. There were rows and rows of them, many made of bone china, others fragile porcelain. No two alike. My lips thinned when I again noticed the bare spot where my favorite had been. A hand-painted masterpiece, tipped in gold on the handle and rim, with delicate pink flowers. The words “You Drank Poison” were etched at the bottom. HowdareTaron steal it?
Finally, I gathered enough strength to crawl onto my bed. Colossal and canopied, the draping fabric mimicked smoke. The large mattress was so wide I could invite my eight sisters for a sleepover if ever I so desired. (I didn’t.) I flopped on my back and sighed. Let me sleep.
“You look terrible. You should change.”
I popped up into a sitting position, heart thumping. Adelaide waited at my desk, filing her nails. Um, had she always been there or just arrived?
She glanced up from her task, skimmed her gaze over me without concern, and tsked. “The council members are waiting.”
Great. The meeting I’d called before I left. There wouldn’t be any resting. I struggled to my feet and tripped to the ensuite, calling, “Find out everything you can about Nyla’s dagger. The Yrnblade has made a reappearance.” No one researched better than Adelaide.
“Way to bury the lede,” she muttered, attention falling to her phone.
Certain she’d know every detail by the time I exited, I shut the bathroom door, hurried through a shower and changed into ink-washed leggings, armored at the shin, and tucked my feet into heavy boots soft enough to mask my approach, but with a reinforced toe that would make anyone regret advancing on me. I slipped a dark cami over my head and cinched a leather belt around my waist, its width gleaming with ornamental weapons. The functional ones I concealed in secret pockets. Then, I pulled on a flowing overcoat the color of charcoal, its high slit allowing perfect mobility.
A glance in the mirror revealed the wound had indeed healed. Zero evidence of my fight with the Locke remained. Not outwardly. Inwardly, my dragon continued to froth, eager to unleash upon the mortal. Worse, my strength had yet to fully return. A problem when facing men with betrayal on their minds.
