“For the record, I also think this is sketchy,” another man says. Yes! It is indeed very sketchy.
“Barry, Larry, grab the doors,” the leader instructs as I add Barry and Larry to my kill list.
Pain shoots up my spine as they drag me outside. “Should we pick her up?” an unfamiliar voice asks.
“I suppose,” the leader says. Well, excuse me for having delicate flesh that will split open against the stones.
I’m picked up again and they begin their trek to wherever they take helpless damsels. Perhaps they sacrifice damsels at dawn to appease the Idols? No, that’s not right. What did damsels do apart from acting distressed?
It takes goodness knows how many tempos before they stand me upright and the sheet falls away from my eyes. I squint against the rising sun which has bathed the horizon in a gently peachy-lilac glow. I’m leaning against one of the masked men. My limbs have been tingling as the tempos pass.
Someone grabs my wrists and yanks them back. They wrap something itchy around them as they are bound.
“Can you stand?” the gruff voice asks. It’s the leader, the one I’m leaning against.
I curl my toes, finding more strength in my legs. I nod against his shoulder and he pushes me back against something sturdy. Kind blue eyes study me and they crinkle at the corners, making me think he’s frowning at me. No doubt he’s realizing I’m not a damsel and he will apologize and return me to my chambers. I’m a positive thinker. He shakes his head like he’s getting rid of his guilt.
“Please,” I croak, finding my voice is returning to me.
“I’m sorry, you pissed off the most heinous of the Hallowed,” he mutters as he rounds me and checks my bindings. Fingers press into my palm and something cool and metal settles there. “You got this?”
I jerk my head once and wonder at the gift he’s given me. He can’t free me, it seems, because he’s as trapped as I am. But he’s given me a fighting chance with a small blade. Not that I have an impressive track record with sharp objects, but he doesn’t know that.
I swallow the lump of fear as the masked men disappear down a steep hill toward the palace, leaving me alone, bound, and vulnerable. The cool blade weighs heavy in my hand; I’m not helpless. I twist the sharp end and start working it into a rope that is thicker than my arm.
The warmth of the sun kisses my skin as my limbs become stronger. The drugs they gave me must be wearing off in time for me to yell like a damsel in distress. I suck in a breath and weigh up my chances of being rescued by The Hallowed. I’d say it was equal to Charming getting into Gwyneth’s panties. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I decide to save my energy for working this blade through the rope binding my wrists. If I begin yelling, that would be multitasking, and we all know how that ends.
A layer of sweat forms on my brow as the palace wakes and I spy shiny blessed Hallowed buzzing around. No Burghers yet, and definitely no Gwyneth. I also haven’t seen any of the Stirling brothers. But that’s okay. I’m used to being my own savior. I survived twenty annuses without so much as a glance from a knight.
Trumpets sound loud and clear, making me jerk and drop my blade. Oh shit. I twist my wrists. They are still tightly bound. I sigh. Maybe it’s time for screaming? People stream from the various doors of the palace and gather around the bottom of the hill I’m bound to. There are bench seats I hadn’t spotted before, and they fill with chattering Hallowed.
“Hey,” I shout. “There’s been a mistake. I’m not a damsel.” They ignore me like I don’t exist, and that just sums up the attitude of the blessed. Assholes.
I spot a blonde-haired frantic goddess. “Gwyneth,” I holler. Her head swings toward me and she starts running in my direction. Charming darts forward from the crowd and grabs her around her waist. She flails, hammering her fists on his arms. He drops onto the bench and doesn’t let her go. The crowd builds until they are piled deep behind the benches. What in the realms is happening?
Someone in a long fur cloak strides between the benches and spins to face the crowd. “Good diurnal,” he hollers, silencing the crowd. I press my lips together and stop myself from shouting out. That’s the recently stabbed king. I didn’t want him connecting me with his recent injuries. Better to stay silent and hope he doesn’t recognize me. He’s alive though, so that’s a positive—he would be unwise to hold it against me. He stabbed himself, so if anything, he should be annoyed at his own stupidity.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Hallows, welcome to the annual rescue attempt of my son, Theo Stirling. Before you is a damsel that he needs to save in order to prove himself worthy of visiting the Lady in the Lake. The dragon demands a quarter annus sacrifice in order to keep our kingdom safe, and this lovely damsel has offered herself willingly.” He glances at me over his shoulder, and I can see the wicked, twisted gleam in his eyes. He knows who I am. Perhaps it wasn’t Charming who had engineered this plan to sacrifice Daphne.
Oh, no. No, no, no. I twist my hands more frantically. I’m about to become dragon chow for the entertainment of The Hallowed. This will not be the way Daphne Stone meets her end. The crowd roars with excitement, and it occurs to me that these sick blessed folks need a better entertainment schedule. No wonder the damsels are revolting. How many times have the Stirling brothers attempted the rescue? They seem capable, which must mean the dragon is ferocious. I have a less than zero chance of survival. A negative zero.
A powerful clap of thunder echoes across the crowd, making the earth beneath me vibrate. I rack my brain for any useful information about a dragon. Do you lull them with a ballad? No, wait, that is a giant. Also, my singing voice is more likely to make the dragon eat me to make it stop. Perhaps it is a harp that soothed a giant? I can’t remember, and it’s not like I have a harp hanging around for me to try. Kissing is for frogs and Sleeping Beauty. I have no house to fly and land on the dragon, which I believe downed a witch or two.
A huge shadow cast by an immense creature blankets the sky and swallows the sun, leaving goosebumps on my flesh. I lose the ability to breathe as a magnificent creature circles the sky, growing closer and closer to my prone form on top of the hill. I don’t know what it is waiting for, it’s not like I can escape. Being bound seems like an unfair advantage to a beast that could use my bones for toothpicks.
A horse gallops from the palace gates, carrying an armored knight wielding a long spear. That seems like an overly dangerous weapon to be waving around in my presence.
The horse gallops toward me just as the dragon swoops down. They are both heading in my direction and all I can do is wait for the enviable crunch of my bones. Perhaps it will be a quick death?
I squeeze my eyes closed, then force them open. I won’t rob myself of my last few moments in the realm. I will look death in the eye and dare it to dance with my chaos. Damn, that sounded badass. Now if I could manifest thoughts into actual life—that would be awesome.
The golden scaled dragon shines in the sunlight as it dives lower. Theo picks up speed and shoots between me and the beast.
“Daphne?” the knight says. “What in the Blazes are you doing here?”
I frown. I can differentiate between their voices, and this is not Theo. “Nash?”
“How did you know?”
