The dragon blinked. “And that seems like a good plan to you?”
“No,” she answered honestly. “Not at all. That is just what we would do. I never say it was good idea. But I am tragic disappointment to my people.”
“Well, then, as your host while in this land, I think it is my responsibility to show you how we handle things, don’t you?”
“Yes. Then I can judge you and your corrupt, immoral people wanting.”
The dragon grinned, showing all those bright white fangs again, which sparkled like pretty cave stones. “That sounds like a delightful plan.”
“Something told me you would like, dragon.”
Chapter Nineteen
Baron Roscommon walked quickly down the third-floor hallway of his castle, his assistant following, his captain of the guard right by his side.
“What do you mean they haven’t returned with another shipment from that cave?”
“There’s been nothing from them in hours, my lord,” his assistant informed him as he worked hard to get his short legs to catch up with them.
“Captain?” the baron asked just as they reached the end of the hall and were nearing the stairs to the next floor down.
“I’ll send a unit of my men out there, Baron, and have them report back to me immed—”
The captain’s word stopped as soon as they heard the screaming outside.
“What the holy hells?” the baron snarled.
“You two stay here,” the captain ordered. “I’ll—”
The three men quickly moved as the stone wall beside them shook. The captain pulled his sword and stepped in front of them, pushing the baron and his assistant back.
The stone was torn away, the late-afternoon suns briefly blinding them until an enormous scale-covered snout suddenly appeared, the nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. It pulled back a bit so that the baron could now see cold, black eyes staring at him.
“Good day to you, Baron Roscommon.”
“Move!” the captain ordered, before he charged the dragon with his blade.
The baron only had seconds to see the dragon pull back completely from that hole just as the captain was about to make contact. But the captain didn’t have time to change his strategy and he went flying out the opening, falling three stories. His screams of panic brutally cut off when he hit the ground.
“Ooopsie!” the dragon sang out.
Horrified, the baron turned and raced toward the other end of the hall. But a blue-scaled fist rammed through the stained glass, only to be replaced a few seconds later by a blue-scaled dragon head.
“Hello, Baron Roscommon,” a female voice said.
Gods! A She-dragon! He’d always heard they were more terrifying than the males.
The baron, in a panic, shoved his assistant toward the female, ignoring her “Oh! That’s just wrong, you bastard!” and ran down another hallway to another set of stairs.
Panting from the exertion and fear, he rushed down those stairs until he reached the wooden door. He snatched it open and stumbled outside. His people were screaming and running in all directions, yelling warnings of “Dragons! Run! Dragons!” Words he’d never heard in his time except in stories told by his father and grandfather.
Gods, what had he done?
Roscommon went around the corner of his castle and started to run toward an entrance to tunnels that the queen had ordered built so that the city could have sewers. Something she’d apparently learned from the Desert Land people. Those tunnels would allow the baron to escape out of the city.
But just as he reached the entrance, a silver spike landed in front of him, blocking his exit. And he quickly realized that the spike was actually part of a tail.
And from above, he heard a low voice sneer at him, “Going somewhere, m’lord?”
Elina sat in a tree safe from the action in the city but still close enough that she could see and hear most of it.
She understood why the dragons didn’t need to go the route of her people and swoop in like the terrifying horde they were.
Because they were dragons. All they had to do was drop their enormous bodies from the skies, and the terror was on without their doing much of anything.
The funny thing was, these “terrifying” dragons were much more thoughtful than any human Elina had ever met. Although a few had talked about going into the city and wiping everyone out, it was mostly just talk. They had considerately listened to other ideas and, in the end, supported Celyn’s.
Elina had been rather amazed by it all.
Even more fascinating, they’d all decided it was in their best interest to handle all this themselves rather than get Queen Annwyl involved. Apparently her way of dealing with things was also different from the tribal hordes’. She seemed to have no desire to destroy those she considered innocent. But wiping out the entire army protecting the city? It seemed that was something she would be more than willing to do. All by herself.
What really interested Elina the most about all of this was how protective the dragons were, not only of the people, but of Annwyl and her rule. To be honest, Elina had assumed the dragons didn’t take the human queen very seriously. She’d assumed that they tolerated her merely because of her mate. A dragon prince, no less.
Yet it wasn’t like that at all. Whatever Annwyl had done over the years, she’d earned the respect of these dragons. They seemed to love and fear her. At the very least, they feared her wrath.
Gods, what was that like? To have your own fear you?
“No,” she answered honestly. “Not at all. That is just what we would do. I never say it was good idea. But I am tragic disappointment to my people.”
“Well, then, as your host while in this land, I think it is my responsibility to show you how we handle things, don’t you?”
“Yes. Then I can judge you and your corrupt, immoral people wanting.”
The dragon grinned, showing all those bright white fangs again, which sparkled like pretty cave stones. “That sounds like a delightful plan.”
“Something told me you would like, dragon.”
Chapter Nineteen
Baron Roscommon walked quickly down the third-floor hallway of his castle, his assistant following, his captain of the guard right by his side.
“What do you mean they haven’t returned with another shipment from that cave?”
“There’s been nothing from them in hours, my lord,” his assistant informed him as he worked hard to get his short legs to catch up with them.
“Captain?” the baron asked just as they reached the end of the hall and were nearing the stairs to the next floor down.
“I’ll send a unit of my men out there, Baron, and have them report back to me immed—”
The captain’s word stopped as soon as they heard the screaming outside.
“What the holy hells?” the baron snarled.
“You two stay here,” the captain ordered. “I’ll—”
The three men quickly moved as the stone wall beside them shook. The captain pulled his sword and stepped in front of them, pushing the baron and his assistant back.
The stone was torn away, the late-afternoon suns briefly blinding them until an enormous scale-covered snout suddenly appeared, the nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. It pulled back a bit so that the baron could now see cold, black eyes staring at him.
“Good day to you, Baron Roscommon.”
“Move!” the captain ordered, before he charged the dragon with his blade.
The baron only had seconds to see the dragon pull back completely from that hole just as the captain was about to make contact. But the captain didn’t have time to change his strategy and he went flying out the opening, falling three stories. His screams of panic brutally cut off when he hit the ground.
“Ooopsie!” the dragon sang out.
Horrified, the baron turned and raced toward the other end of the hall. But a blue-scaled fist rammed through the stained glass, only to be replaced a few seconds later by a blue-scaled dragon head.
“Hello, Baron Roscommon,” a female voice said.
Gods! A She-dragon! He’d always heard they were more terrifying than the males.
The baron, in a panic, shoved his assistant toward the female, ignoring her “Oh! That’s just wrong, you bastard!” and ran down another hallway to another set of stairs.
Panting from the exertion and fear, he rushed down those stairs until he reached the wooden door. He snatched it open and stumbled outside. His people were screaming and running in all directions, yelling warnings of “Dragons! Run! Dragons!” Words he’d never heard in his time except in stories told by his father and grandfather.
Gods, what had he done?
Roscommon went around the corner of his castle and started to run toward an entrance to tunnels that the queen had ordered built so that the city could have sewers. Something she’d apparently learned from the Desert Land people. Those tunnels would allow the baron to escape out of the city.
But just as he reached the entrance, a silver spike landed in front of him, blocking his exit. And he quickly realized that the spike was actually part of a tail.
And from above, he heard a low voice sneer at him, “Going somewhere, m’lord?”
Elina sat in a tree safe from the action in the city but still close enough that she could see and hear most of it.
She understood why the dragons didn’t need to go the route of her people and swoop in like the terrifying horde they were.
Because they were dragons. All they had to do was drop their enormous bodies from the skies, and the terror was on without their doing much of anything.
The funny thing was, these “terrifying” dragons were much more thoughtful than any human Elina had ever met. Although a few had talked about going into the city and wiping everyone out, it was mostly just talk. They had considerately listened to other ideas and, in the end, supported Celyn’s.
Elina had been rather amazed by it all.
Even more fascinating, they’d all decided it was in their best interest to handle all this themselves rather than get Queen Annwyl involved. Apparently her way of dealing with things was also different from the tribal hordes’. She seemed to have no desire to destroy those she considered innocent. But wiping out the entire army protecting the city? It seemed that was something she would be more than willing to do. All by herself.
What really interested Elina the most about all of this was how protective the dragons were, not only of the people, but of Annwyl and her rule. To be honest, Elina had assumed the dragons didn’t take the human queen very seriously. She’d assumed that they tolerated her merely because of her mate. A dragon prince, no less.
Yet it wasn’t like that at all. Whatever Annwyl had done over the years, she’d earned the respect of these dragons. They seemed to love and fear her. At the very least, they feared her wrath.
Gods, what was that like? To have your own fear you?
