He’s obviously on my side here, which confuses the hell out of me, since more than anything, I’m certain he wants me dead. But maybe it’s not my life he’s protecting but the golden dragon’s.
I chance a quick glance. Yeah, Sgaeyl looks pissed. Her head undulates in a serpentine motion—a clear sign of agitation—and those narrowed golden eyes of hers are focused on Tynan, who is now trying to circle me like we’re on the mat, but I won’t let him get between me and the little golden dragon.
“Your arm is shot, Sorrengail,” Tynan hisses, his face pale and sweaty.
“I’m used to functioning in pain, asshole. Are you?” I raise the dagger in my right hand just to prove that I can despite the blood that runs down my arm and drips from the tip of my blade, saturating the wrap across my palm. My gaze drops meaningfully to his side. “I know exactly where I sliced into you. If you don’t get to a healer soon, you’ll bleed out internally.”
Rage contorts his features, and he moves to strike.
I try to flick my knife at him, but it slips from my blood-soaked hand and lands with a thud in the grass several feet away.
And I know my bravado won’t be enough to save me now.
My arm is shot. My leg is shot. But at least I made Jack Barlowe run away before I died.
As a last thought, that’s not a bad one.
Just as Tynan reaches up to two-hand his sword, preparing for a killing blow, I catch a glimpse of movement to my right. It’s Xaden. And rules be damned, he steps forward as though he intends to stop Tynan from killing me.
I barely have a moment to register surprise that Xaden would ever save me, for any reason, when a gust of wind slams into my back, and I stumble forward onto my destroyed ankle, flinging my arms out to keep my balance and grimacing at the shooting pain.
Tynan’s mouth hangs open and he staggers backward, his head tilting so far back it’s nearly perpendicular to his torso. Shade envelops us both as he continues to back away.
Chest heaving, my lungs desperate for air, I chance a look over my shoulder to see why Tynan’s retreating.
And my heart lurches into my throat.
Standing with the golden one tucked under an enormous, scarred black wing is the biggest dragon I’ve ever seen in my life—the unbonded black dragon Professor Kaori showed us in class. I don’t even come close to reaching its ankle.
A growl resonates through its chest, vibrating the ground around me as it lowers its gigantic head, baring dripping teeth.
Fear ripples through every cell in my body as its hot breath blows over me.
“Step aside, Silver One,” a deep, gruff, definitely male voice orders.
I blink. Wait. What? Did he just speak to me?
“Yes. You. Move.” There’s zero room for argument in his tone, and I limp to the side, nearly stumbling over Oren’s unconscious body as Tynan breaks into a screaming run, fleeing for the trees.
The black dragon’s eyes narrow to glare at Tynan and he opens his mouth wide a second before fire shoots across the field, blasting heat against the side of my face and incinerating everything in its path…including Tynan.
Flames crackle at the edges of the blackened path, and I turn slowly to face the dragon, wondering if I’m about to be next.
His giant golden eyes study me, but I hold my ground, tilting my chin upward.
“You should end the enemy at your feet.”
My eyebrows jerk upward. His mouth didn’t move. He spoke to me, but…his mouth didn’t move. Oh shit. Because he’s in my head. “I can’t kill an unconscious man.” I shake my head, though whether it’s in protest at his suggestion or a result of my confusion is up for debate.
“He would kill you if given the same chance.”
I glance down at Oren, still unconscious in the grass beside my feet. It’s not like I can argue that astute assessment. “Well, that’s a statement on his character. Not mine.”
The dragon only blinks in response, and I can’t quite tell if that’s a good thing or not.
There’s a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye, then a whoosh of air as Xaden and Sgaeyl take off, leaving me here with the giant black dragon and the little golden one. Guess Xaden’s momentary concern for my life is over.
The dragon’s giant nostrils flare. “You’re bleeding. Stop it.”
My arm.
“It’s not that simple when you’ve been run through with a—” I shake my head again. Am I seriously arguing with a dragon? This is so fucking surreal. “You know what? That’s a great idea.” I manage to cut off what remains of my right shirtsleeve and wrap it around the wound, holding one end of the fabric with my teeth as I tie it tight to apply pressure and slow the bleeding. “There. Better?”
“It will do.” He tilts his head at me. “Your hands are bound, too. Do you bleed often?”
“I try not to.”
He scoffs. “Let’s go, Violet Sorrengail.” He lifts his head, and the golden dragon peeks out from under his wing.
“How do you know my name?” I gawk up at him.
“And to think, I’d almost forgotten just how loquacious humans are.” He sighs, the gust of his breath rattling the trees. “Get on my back.”
Oh. Shit. He’s choosing…me.
“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot. “Have you seen you? Do you have any idea how huge you are?” I’d need a damned ladder to get up there.
The look he gives me can only be described as annoyance. “One does not live a century without being well aware of the space one takes up. Now get on.”
