Page 65 of Fae Exile

Clutching a clinging Saffron close to her chest, she turned. Her eyes widened as she registered the full-grown dragons—who’d also noticed her—before she looked beyond them ... to find me.

My step hitched as her mouth dropped open.

Her clothes were torn all over, revealing what looked like dozens of crusted gashes beneath them. She was coated in some kind of black ... paint? Her hair hung in thick clumps, and even her face was smeared with dark pigment. Her eyes were wild, jumpy, their gray brighter than ever and tinged with an otherworldly violet.

She was a vision, more beautiful than I even remembered.

And she was alive—gloriously, wondrously alive.

Her lips moved but no sound reached me. Even so, I knew what she said.

“Rush?” she repeated, louder this time.

My next breath fluttered buoyantly in my chest. My name upon her lips was a melody I’d longed to hear.

I started toward her again but stumbled as a large mass materialized three feet in front of me.

Instantly, I crouched, sword aloft, anticipating another dragon.

But no, not a dragon.

One second there was nothing there beyond broken tiles. The next, a white horse as large as Bolt lay there, its legs tucked under its body, its head tipped indolently to one side.

I skittered to an abrupt halt as I next noted translucent, iridescent wings, a single twisted ivory horn, and a thick, silky tail.

“You know what?” said a deep voice I recognized instantly, its tone dreamy, suggesting its owner had his eyes closed. “I changed my mind. Let’s put it all into braids, mane and tail. It’ll be lovely.”

“Azariah?”

The pegicorn started with a jerk and screeched as he unfolded and rose to his feet, his big head swinging in my direction.

His dark eyes widened, his entire brow arching higher than I’d ever seen from the theatrical creature as he blinked those thick lashes at me. “Rush?What in dragonfire are you doing ... here?”

He looked around, his eyes growing impossibly larger as he did. “Am I in the...? Is this ...the throne room?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What am I doingin the throne room?And why are there”—he squealed as if he himself weren’t a creature as magnificent as they were—“dragons everywhere?”

His legs did a one-two in the air before he retreated a few feet, stopping when he backed into a clump of broken chairs.

Before any of us could make sense of the sudden appearances, the blue dragon, the first to break through the floor, balanced tall atop the queen’s vacated throne, spread its wings till they traversed the length of the dais and touched either wall of the alcove behind it, and craned back its neck.

Even as it sucked in a deep breath, my brothers and I were in motion.

“Take cover,” Ryder yelled as he, West, and Hiro dove behind barricades of debris.

Azariah was immortal and unlikely to die by any means as tangible as dragon breath. Even so, he leapt over the chairs, clearing them with ease, and skidded to a stop behind one of the still-standing columns. His wide ribcage stuck out on either side of the marble shaft as he hid.

Elowyn had reacted faster than any of us, and was already spread flat atop the floor, a short pile of stones protecting her and Saffron.

She’d be okay. My rational mind understood that. She was shielded enough. Plus, her instincts were sharp. Despite being a female, she was a fine warrior capable of defending herself.

But my instincts warred with each other as the dragon sucked in enough breath to bathe the entire room in fire.

Get to Elowyn!

No, take cover.

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