Evelina’s eyes widened. “Dragons…”
Dragons didn’t exist. No one had ever seen one for themselves; it was always someone’s cousin’s friend who had heard someone else telling a story that theymighthave seen one.
“Saw it with my own two eyes.” The storyteller pointed to the eye that was shut, a deep scar running through it. “Until it decided it wanted to make a meal out of me and nearly gutted me.”
Evelina gasped, while the others at the table laughed, clearly having heard this story time and time again.
But the female waved her off. “That was eons ago. They tend to stay secluded now that they’re nearly extinct.”
“So secluded that no one haseverseen one but you, Emma,” a red-faced, bearded man said with a hearty laugh.
Evelina brimmed with questions to ask the female. She wanted to know everything about dragons and how they differed from wyverns. But the conversation quickly derailed to the next topic, and she settled back into listening.
Soon, Evelina got up to pay for her drink, the silver coins clinking on the metal plate by the bar. She smiled at the barkeeper as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the?—”
A crash sounded.
There was a flurry of motion through the closed shutter, though it was too old and cracked to fully see through. A scream pierced the air.
Evelina darted for the door, her heart in her throat as she braced herself for what lay on the other side.
“Princess Evelina, you can’t!” the storyweaver shouted from behind her.
But it was too late—she was already out the door.
She spun in a circle, frantic as she took in the view around her. Soldiers glimmered in the growing fires as they lit the straw roofs ablaze, storming the village. Smoke filled the air. Though she tried, she couldn’t find Willow in the haze.
The rebels shouldn’t have been able to get this far, not without being detected. They had made it to Nox Grove, but only a few, and without being able to make any stand. How there could be this many, fully equipped for an ambush? Something was different. Darker.
Evelina heard the roar of Khaline from above, but the smoke was still too thick. Even with two Riders, they would need reinforcements. Quick. The stationed Valon soldiers were clearly outnumbered and unprepared for such an onslaught in this small village.
She could see the outlines of figures running through the smoke, flumes of fire roaring to life, while some held weapons that glowed with the shimmer of a curse. There were dozens of them.
A man screamed from her right, snapping her attention to him. She watched as he writhed on the ground, clutching his neck. She ran to him, dropping down at his side, and slung her satchel off, doing a quick check of the supplies with her. It was more than enough for an accident or two, but nothing compared to what she’d need now. Only a couple of bandages, a few pinches of feverfew, and a tin with skin-mending salve. The supplies she had bought were for specific maladies and brews, not immediate trauma.
Screams echoed around her, and her focus was torn between the man before her and the rebels attacking.
“Please.” His words were garbled as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “My wife and daughter are in our house behind the paint shop.”
She hushed him, his face pale and eyes fluttering.
“I’ll find them,” she gasped. “But I need you to move your hand so I can take a look.”
He nodded and lowered his hand. Blood began to pour from the cut on his neck. She lunged forward, pressing two bandages against it to stop the bleeding.
Another scream, and Evelina turned to see a rebel smiling at her from the front of the tavern, clutching a bloody mass in his hand. Her eyes followed the pool of blood. The barkeep she had just paid had fallen on her side and now faced Evelina, a hole where her heart should be.
Evelina’s hands froze.
The rebel didn’t look humanorfae. His face was cracked with lines of black, as if his veins had turned to obsidian and glowed beneath his skin. He looked like a monster, a nightmare that she couldn’t wake from.
She frantically looked back down at the wounded man, feeling his pulse weaken beneath her fingers. She couldn’t just leave him.
When she looked back up, the rebel was running toward her, his eyes bloodthirsty and eager. But before he could get any closer, an axe was driven into his chest. His eyes widened as he fell to his knees.
The storyweaver from earlier swung the axe again, ending the rebel’s life and saving Evelina’s. Other villagers had banded together, carrying scythes, axes, and other farming tools.
She saw the massive belly of a wyvern swoop low to the ground. The smoke had settled like a blanket over the square, making it impossible for the Rider to tell who was friend or foe.
