Page 127 of Shadows of Winter

Snarling, he pulled at the bars. Metal groaned, and a bolt tore free, clinking on the ground. By the gods, he was strong. There was no way she could defend herself against him. She had to get through to him another way.

She tried to hum the tune she’d heard from him numerous times, but she didn’t have any musical experience and hadn’t paid that much attention to the melody. Could he even hear her over his attempts to break the bars?

She tried singing a nursery rhyme from her youth about fish and eels, but her voice cracked and quavered. Even when she wasn’t afraid for her life, she didn’t have a knack for song.

The beast shifted to the gate, trying to yank it open.

As Kaylina backed farther, her heel hit something on the ground. The book.

Without dropping the mace, she grabbed it and opened it.

“Proper behavior for young rangers,” she read, hoping vainly that hearing the words—and the mention of rangers—would get through to Vlerion, would remind him that he was, at the heart, a brave and noble warrior with honor and ethics. He wasn’t an animal.

With a great wrenching of metal, the beast tore the gate off the hinges. He flung it to the ground ten feet away and sprang into the cell.

Fumbling the book, Kaylina almost screamed. The guard lifted his head, eyes bleary with confusion. The beast sprang not for Kaylina but for him. With an enraged roar, he hefted the guard to his feet and used those preternaturally powerful muscles to rip the man’s head off.

This time, Kaylina did scream as the head landed on the ground between her and the beast. She backed until she struck the cell wall and could go no farther, raising both book and mace though neither would defend her from his might.

The beast crouched, his chest heaving from the long battle, his eyes locking onto her. But he didn’t spring. He stared intensely at her, fangs and claws dripping blood.

Though Kaylina had never been more afraid in her life, she lifted the book again. The tremor to her hands made it difficult to read but she did her best.

“Proper behavior for young rangers… is to be respectful toward fellow humans… whether noble or common.” She licked her lips. Why was her mouth so dry? “And also to honor the ancient treaty with the taybarri.”

The beast’s eyes remained locked on her. He hadn’t moved and did seem to be listening.

“Upon return from battle, tend your mount before feeding yourself. Wash, groom, and give it sustenance. This duty shows respect and strengthens your bond with the taybarri while also calming the mind of the ranger, so often agitated after battle. No kidding,” she muttered, glancing into the eyes of the beast, hoping to find Vlerion in there somewhere.

“My,” he rasped in an inhuman voice, the word barely understandable.

Kaylina stared. Somehow, she’d never imagined the beast would talk.

“What?” she whispered.

He reached toward her while looking her up and down, his gaze lingering on the tear in her dress. With a possessive glint in his eyes and his voice a snarl, he said, “My female.”

“Uhm.”

He glanced at the dead guard. “My female.”

“That’s right.” Kaylina decided agreement was a good idea, but the thought that the beast might want to celebrate his triumph with sex made her tremble with fear. The memory of Isla’s scars came to her. Scars her husband had left on her when he’d been the beast.

Kaylina jerked the book back up and continued reading, emphasizing the words ranger and respect and honor when she crossed them, hoping they would bring back his humanity. Hoping—

The beast growled and stepped toward her. It sounded more like a contented growl than a savage growl, but that didn’t reassure her. She kept reading and wondered if she should try singing again.

He took another step. And another. He was close enough to touch her—to rip her head off or do whatever he wished to her. The book shook so much that she couldn’t read the words any longer.

He reached out with a claw and traced her cheek, as he’d done with his finger earlier to brush a tear away.

“Vlerion,” Kaylina said softly, again making herself meet his eyes.

For the first time, something was there, something human. Then he collapsed at her feet.

33

A small weapon precisely placed may defeat more enemies than a tool of great destruction.

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