The dragon sat up in the saddle, then slid to the ground. “Aren’t you glad you never fought in the Unicorn-Dragon Wars?”
Yes, he was.
“Did you?” he asked her.
“Nope. Wasn’t born. But I heard the stories of how awful it was.”
Now, he understood better why his father had been insistent on those treaties with her people. Why Cratus had never wanted to go to war against the dragons.
Holy shit...
Because of the power of his black horn, he’d never known what dragon fire could do to the average red horn. He’d been extremely careless with the lives of his people.
No, he’d been as reckless as his sister. A lot more so than he’d ever known.
But then he’d come into his black horn young. Too young in retrospect. Not to mention the powers he’d inherited from his mother. Dragon fire would burn him, but not like this. He could withstand it. Granted it would leave him mangled and blistered. Still, he would survive. Just not happily.
His stomach tight, he headed back toward the first three they’d attacked.
While they weren’t barbecued into oblivion, they were just as dead.
Damn. He’d hoped they could interrogate one of them.
They?
Dash paused as he realized what he’d just thought. When had he started thinking of them as a team?
What was even more terrifying? The idea of being part of a team wasn’t as scary to him as it should be.
The dragon knelt beside their leader so she could examine him.
Sighing, Dash returned to his human form. He took a moment to his conceal his wand so that she wouldn’t see it before he searched the others for theirs.
Tanis watched as Dash cut the horns, that had since turned white, from the bodies of their attackers. Weird given how vibrant and red they’d been before. “Is there a significance to the color?”
“Yes. These are warriors.”
“Black for a king?”
“No.”
She waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat to get his attention. “Then what is black?”
“The color of mine.”
“Wow...” She was astonished at his tone. “You’re really not going there?”
When he spoke, his voice was flat and crisp. “Really not going there.”
Now, she had to know what he was hiding. “Is it embarrassing?”
“No.”
“Then why not tell me?”
“It’s personal.”
What in the world could be personal about the color of their horns?
