TheKing’sCourtsnaps back into place around me—the vast stone hall, the press of bodies, the murmur of voices rising and falling like the tide.Thescent of beeswax and crushed herbs fills my nose, and somewhere nearby a merchant is arguing loudly over the price of silk.Fora heartbeat, everything is exactly as it was before.
Before the smoke…before the spell…
BeforeTherondied right in front of me.
My chest tightens painfully, andIgasp, stumbling as my feet meet solid ground again.Mygaze flies across the crowd, frantic, searching, searching…
There.
Theron stands near the front of theCourt, just inside the second set of guards, his broad shoulders unmistakable even among the crush of people.Hisdark hair gleams in the torchlight, his horns curving back from his temples.Heand theOldKinghave just finished clasping hands and glowing—theirDrakescommunicating somehowIguess—and he is whole and alive…for now.
I don’t hesitate…don’t give myself time to lose my courage.Idon’t let myself think about what will happen if this doesn’t work.Irun.
“Here now girl, what do you think you’re doing?”someone protests asIshove past them, butIdon’t stop.Ipush through merchants and nobles alike, ignoring the startled cries and irritated glares.Nothingmatters but reaching him in time–before the witch appears.
I burst out of the crowd and seizeTheronby the front of his tunic, my hands fisting in the rough fabric.Helooks down at me in shock, his silver eyes widening.
“Elowen?What?—”
“Don’t talk,”Igasp, shaking my head, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break my ribs.“Ineed to speak to yourDrake!”
“MyDrake?”Hisbrow furrows.“Whatare you talking about?”
I rise on my toes, gripping him tighter, and press my forehead to his chest.Ican feel theDrakebeneath his skin, restless…powerful…listening.AtleastIhope he is.
“Please,”Iwhisper, closing my eyes.“Pleasehear me.”
And thenIreach—not with my hands, not with my voice—but with something deeper.Somethingthat has already touched him, already bound us together in waysIbarely understand.
You have to listen,Isend with my mind, using the strange connection that was semi-forged betweenTheronand me when he changed the color of my eyes.Youhave to listen to me now.
TheDrakestirs andTheron’sskin gets warmer.It’slike standing too close to a forge when the bellows are suddenly pumped—the heat, the presence, the awareness of something vast and ancient turning its attention toward me.Ican almost see him in my mind’s eye–his gigantic head cocked to one side as he listens to me.
Danger is coming,Itell him silently, desperately.Sheis coming–the witch!Youmust be ready.
Theron stiffens under my hands.
“Elowen, what are you?—?”
No time to waste,Iplead, still focusing on hisDrake.Nohesitation.Whenshe appears—Shift.Burnher before she speaks.Beforeshe casts.
For one terrible heartbeat, there is only silence.
Then…a low, rumbling growl vibrates through his chest, so deepIfeel it in my bones.
TheDrakehas heard me.
My eyes fly open just as the air in the center of theCourtshudders.
“OhGoddess,”Igasp.“She’scoming–it’s happening!Getready!”
The world seems to hold its breath as a dark cloud blooms out of nothing—black and purple smoke spilling outward, thick and choking.Theacrid stench burns my nose and throat, making my eyes water instantly.Peoplecry out in alarm, stumbling back, butIdon’t move.
I can’t–becauseIknow what comes next.
The smoke parts and she steps through it…Grizalyn.
She is exactly as she was just a few moments ago in the past that is now the future—tall and terrible, draped in black lace that clings to her like shadows given form.Herpurple eyes blaze with cruel amusement as she surveys theCourt, her lips curving in a slow, satisfied smile.
