Page 202 of The Black Witch

“Ariel, please,” I plead as I become uncomfortably flushed.

“She talks in her sleep,” Ariel explains to Yvan, her smile widening. “It was especially annoying last night.”

I feel exposed and raw, ready to burst into tears at any moment.

“Ariel.” Diana takes a menacing step toward her.“Enough.”

“We should be on our way,” Rafe breaks in. “There’s only so much daylight left.”

I nod at him stiffly, feeling bolted to the ground.

Ariel glances around slowly, taking her time, savoring my misery. “Don’t worry, Black Witch,” she finally says. “I won’t tell Yvan what kind of dreams you have about him.”

Yvan’s eyebrows fly up, and he glances at me in surprise before looking uncomfortably away. Diana emits a low growl, her lip curling up.

Ariel hisses at Diana in turn and crouches into a defensive posture until Diana relents and lets Rafe lead her away, almost everyone following.

Wynter pauses, her expression of sympathy the only thing able to get me moving again.

I follow them in a daze of shame and fight back the urge to burst into tears.

So Yvan knows I’ve dreamed of him. So what? People can’t control their dreams.

* * *

My painful humiliation dissolves when we reach Yvan’s dragon.

The dragon lies on her side, eyes closed, in a large pool of blood, her spectacular onyx hide covered, justcovered, with gashes and lash marks. One of her wings and a hind leg are bent at odd, unnatural angles.

My hand flies reflexively over my mouth, my breath cinching tight, overcome by such sadistic cruelty.

“Oh, no,” Yvan gasps as he lurches toward the cage, dropping to his knees before it and grasping at the bars. Looking stricken, Wynter goes to Yvan, her wings wrapped tight around her small frame.

“Whoever did this needs to die,” Diana snarls, low and menacing, her eyes lit up with wild fury. Fury that’s reflected in both Jarod’s and Andras’s expressions.

Ariel is frozen, a look of shock on her pallid face. Unexpectedly, she bursts forth with a jolt of violent outrage and hurls herself at the cage, her eyes wild. “Get herout!” Ariel cries. “Get her out of thatcage!” She crumples to the ground, her face ravaged, her fists clutching at the steel bars.

Trystan moves forward to speak to Ariel, cool and collected, as he holds up the white wand. “That’s what we’re going to try and do,” he tells her gently. “But we won’t be able to do it if you alert every soldier within ten leagues of our presence.”

Ariel clings to the cage, her breathing ragged, her look of rage lessening to one of pure devastation.

Yvan’s arm is stretched through the bars, his hand on the dragon’s bloodied back. “She’s still alive,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaken.

The dragon opens her green eye halfway and looks right at Yvan, an ocean of misery in her gaze.

Tears sting at my eyes.

Andras goes over to where Yvan kneels and surveys the scene. “Her wing is broken,” he observes with barely concealed outrage. “So is her leg, and she’s lost a great deal of blood. Perhaps the Empath can tell us if there is any hope.” He glances pointedly at Wynter, who takes a deep breath before kneeling down and reaching toward the cage.

The dragon’s gaze shifts to Wynter as she places her pale hand on the dragon’s gleaming, scaled hide and closes her eyes tightly, her expression pained. “She wants me to know her name is Naga. And that she wants to move, but she can’t. She is in too much pain.” Wynter’s voice is a choked whisper, her thin mouth trembling. “Her thoughts are full of despair. All she ever wanted...” Wynter momentarily breaks off, tears trickling down her cheeks. “All she ever wanted was to fly free. To feel the wind on her wings. But...there’s no fighting them. An image fills her mind. Yvan. Her good friend. Her only friend. She wants him and his people to flee before these Gardnerian monsters find them. Yvan thinks he can save her, but he can’t. Even though he is a...” Wynter gasps, her eyes flying open with shocked realization, her head swiveling around to face Yvan.

Yvan blanches, and he stands up and backs away from Wynter. “Wynter,please.”

“Yvan,” she breathes as she shakes her head in disbelief. “It can’t be. How can it be so?”

“I beg of you,” he pleads.

Wynter bows her head as if attempting to collect herself. She closes her eyes tightly for a moment, then opens them and regards Yvan calmly. “Give me your hand,” she directs as she holds out one of her own, the other on the dragon.

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