Page 118 of The Shadow Wand

The dragon’s head draws back, his murderous look gone, confused awe remaining in his fiery eyes.

I pull in a long breath to steady myself. “Yes, Raz’zor,” I affirm, the remembrance raw and bittersweet. “I helped to free Naga.”

With Yvan. And my family and friends,I think, an ache cutting through me as I realize the dragon is able to skim only the surface of my thoughts and read just a scattered few.

Raz’zor presses his forehead back onto mine, another rush of his fire searing through my lines. Then he pushes away from me, wings flapping as he rises then lands on the floor before me.

For a moment, I remain seated on the floor, his gaze still pinned on me, and I’ve a sense of his internal red fire whipping up with indignant fury as he lets loose with an emphatic hiss.

“Raz’zor says—” Effrey looks to me with evident confusion “—that you are the bonded mate of a dragonkin...yet you are Sealing to another.”

There’s a storm of bewildered outrage in the dragon’s small ruby eyes, the flame in his gaze amplifying as I slowly rise to my feet. The dragon spits red sparks as he bares his teeth and growls at me.

Effrey’s expression has turned to one of grave concern. “He says that the Wyvernkin gave you his fire and that you should not bind to another. He’s very upset about this.”

I glare at the dragon, outraged myself as both a fierce grief for Yvan and a heated indignation rise within me.

“I do not accept your censure, dragon,” I lash out as angry tears burn my eyes. “He’sdead.”

Raz’zor cocks his head and goes very still, his gaze now fiercely questioning, his ruby eyes locked on to mine with unblinking intensity.

“Elloren,” Thierren says, a shocked sympathy in his gaze, “were you with the Icaral? Yvan Guryev?”

My emotions tense with pain over hearing the beloved name. I nod.

Raz’zor lets out a series of low, whistling hisses and everyone grows quiet for a moment.

“Raz’zor says,” Effrey translates, full of solemnity, “that he pays tribute to your loss.”

“Thank you,” I force out, my voice rough as a tear streaks down my cheek and I brusquely wipe it away.

When I look back at the dragon, he’s staring at me in a new way, a simmering gravity in his eyes.

“Raz’zor says to you,” Effrey continues, “‘Take heart, friend of Wyvernkin. Naga the Unbroken sends forth the wingeds as her messengers. She will gather the dragons of the West and the East. And she will be our savior.’”

A sudden rush of hope takes hold.

“Do you know where Naga is, then?” I’m suddenly imploring the small dragon, almost forgetting he came close to ripping out my throat just a moment ago.

Naga’s alive. Sweet Ancient One, she’s alive.

Tears prick at my eyes as I hold the dragon’s fierce stare and he lets loose with a series of rough growls.

Then grows silent.

“Raz’zor says he will hold his fire,” Effrey finally announces. “He says he will break with the forest in this and he will not slay you, even though you are the Black Witch.”

My breathless hope gives way to incredulity and I glare at the dragon. “That’s much appreciated, Raz’zor.”

The dragon narrows his eyes, as if reconsidering, and hisses again, more forceful now.

“But he makes no pledge of fealty,” Effrey amends with cautioning gravity.

What?I’m at a complete loss. It’s like I’ve landed in some strange, formal dragon court, ignorant of the rules.

Whatever it is, this pledge of fealty sounds useful.

They grow to be quite large, these dragons. I picture Raz’zor grown to the size of Naga. And I remember how Naga, even diminished by her long recuperation, was able to take out most of the guard of the Valgard Prison in a fiery inferno.

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