What do I do?
Dash smirked at the keeper. “Well, as you said, I’m sure it’s all bullshit. If a mere spell could kill Coeur de Noir, he’d have been dead ten times over.” He inclined his head to the man. “Thank you for the information.”
Then, he gestured at the poster. “Mind if I take this?”
“Go ahead. Not sure if anyone else here is even literate.”
With a gruff snort, Dash took the poster down, folded it up and tucked it into the pouch at his waist.
Taking her arm, he headed for the door.
Don’t act suspicious,she told herself as they walked across the room.
But how did one not act suspicious? She was no longer sure because she felt like everyone was staring at them.
Were they?
They’d been before. How could they not know who he was? It was so obvious.
You didn’t know till they told you.
‘Cause I’m an idiot!
No wonder her father had always called her one. He’d been right and she’d been lying to herself when she’d thought herself smart.
I’m going to die.Slowly. Painfully. Most likely impaled on a black unicorn horn. With her soul sucked out of her for good measure.
Her ears were buzzing. She was sweating and shivering at the same time. Damn this human body.
“Breathe, little dragon,” he whispered.
Easy for him to say. He was the most feared monster of all time. Forget being a dragon. They had nothing on him when it came to brutality. They might breathe fire and fly, but he had quelled the mightiest of her people.
Even her father paid tribute to him. Not out of respect. Balls out, holy terror.
They weren’t even allowed to say his name in her father’s court for fear that he might somehow know it and wipe them out. Every kingdom lived in terror of this king’s wrath.
Not of his army.
Fear that he’d show up, personally, and slaughter them all. Just for entertainment.
Not even in their sleep, either. No. He made an example in how he executed those he declared his enemies. Bloody. Gory. There was no mistaking when someone crossed him.
He had stabbed his own father in the heart, in front of their court and his father’s bodyguards.
Not even bards wrote songs about him.
They were too afraid to lest it offend him, and he used their lute strings to cut off their heads and fingers.
His deeds were spoken of in terrified whispers. Or by mothers who wanted to frighten their children into good behavior.Don’t do that or the Unicorn King will come for you!
And she had just spent three nights camping with him. Three days riding on his back.
I captured him in a freaking net!
Oh my God...
How was she still alive?
