Unbelievable love.
These werehisboys. His own flesh and blood…
Feelings slammed into him and left him reeling until the entire lot of them settled down into a rage so profound that it was all he could do not to go straight back to Sanctuary and gut Max for what he’d done.
For what he’d unknowingly cost his children.
And yet—
“Maddor…” The name came out in an anguished breath as he stepped forward, wanting to embrace him.
Urian splayed his hand against Falcyn’s chest to stop him from approaching his child. “They have him pinned.” He jerked his chin toward the chain that held Maddor in place. “I’m betting if you free the dragons, it’ll kill him.”
It took Falcyn a moment to realize that Urian was right. The chain ran straight into Maddor’s chest and no doubt through his heart. That was the kind of cruelty Narishka and Morgen specialized in.
Damn the bitches for it.
And that wasn’t all. They had him muzzled, too.
That combination of cruelty made Maddor insane. Falcyn couldn’t blame him in the least. No dragon did well in captivity. Not even a mandrake. They were meant to roam free, not be bound in such a manner.
Stepping past Urian, Falcyn reached to touch his son’s scales. “Maddor, calm yourself. We’re here to help.”
With a fiery hiss, Maddor lunged at him so that Falcyn couldn’t make contact.Fuck you!
There was no missing that angry voice in Falcyn’s head. Maddor lashed at Blaise with his tail.
Falcyn barely pulled Blaise back before Maddor pierced him with a spike. “Stop! You don’t want to harm us.”
Of course I do. It’s your fault I’m here! I intend to kill you both!
Falcyn winced at a truth he couldn’t change. “I know, and I’m sorry for that.”
You’re about to be even sorrier those three seconds before I kill you!
Falcyn ground his teeth, needing some way to reason with an unreasonable temper. Why of all the things his son could have inherited from him did that have to be the primary one?
Then again, it could be worse.
He could have inherited his mother’s.
Yeah, Igraine’s temper had made a mockery of his own. And right now, that double dose of bad genetics was palatable.
Suddenly, the floor rumbled under their feet. Like a 6.0-magnitude earthquake…
Confused by the cause of it, he reached for Medea. But it was hard to remain standing. “Blaise? What the hell is going on here?”
“No idea. Flying hell-monkeys, maybe?”
They should be so lucky. Instead of dramonk demons being unleashed, the cracks in the stone widened and a greenish smoke spiraled out. It was as if the entire dungeon was alive and moving.
No, not moving.
Breathing. That was exactly what it felt like. Smelled like. The way the floor and walls moved was in time to someone’s intake of breath. In and out. Seismic. Rolling.
Jarring.
Urian sneered as he caught a whiff of some foul sulfuric stench. “Someone tell me these are vapors like the Delphian oracle used to get high on before she mumbled gibberish.”
