Page 56 of Fae Exile

“He’s also the last of his kind, if that means anything to you. It’s especially important that he survive, if his cuteness isn’t reason enough for you.”

“‘Cuteness,’” Finnian said on a disbelieving snort. “Dragons are killers.”

The adult dragon swung his head in the fae’s direction, and Finnian silenced.

Was it possible this dragon actually ... understood what we said? Certainly not...

But…“What ... why are you here?” I asked anyway—again, like an idiot. If he were to kill me, I might deserve it for behaving like an amateur. I was far from a dragon expert, but I also knew more about them than most.

The first rules of dealing with dragons were: don’t approach an unknown dragon, don’t provoke them, and always assume they want to eat you.

Somehow managing to be graceful, the dragon clambered several steps toward me in the tight clearing that didn’t leave enough room for him to move properly.

Pru’s breath hitched, but I forced myself to remain exactly where I stood, now petting Saffron with frantic movements that were somehow meant to calm both him and me.

The only grace was that, if I were actually staring my death in the face, at least I couldn’t make out its eyes—or worse, its teeth, which I knew were likely to be as long as my fingers.

“Do your glow thing,” Reed urged from somewhere.

I started, having completely forgotten about this power I seemingly now possessed.

Icoulduse my magic—or at least attempt to summon it—and it was possible it might save me and Saffron from this dragon. If it had put off an entire horde of attacking umbracs, it might work with the beast so much larger than they were.

But—my instincts held me still, clamored throughout my body that, despite all appearances to the contrary, I was safe.

“Do it, Elowyn,” Finnian pressed.

The dragon stalked forward some more until, even in the twilight, made darker by all the encroaching cover, I began to distinguish a snout, and behind it two big eyes blacker than the depth of a moonless night.

With a snap that signified the flapping of wings, Xeno, in his dragon form, flew overhead, but then wobbled and careened, landing hard between me and the dragon.

His knees buckled and he staggered, but caught himself at the last moment, standing unsteadily.

This was why he hadn’t answered earlier.

From what I could make out of the membranes, his wings were still partially shredded. He’d healed some since I last saw him in his dragon form, but not nearly enough.

The adult dragon reared onto his hind legs before slamming back down onto all four.

The earth quivered.

He opened his mouth, revealing what I couldn’t help but notice was a full mouth of pointy, flesh-ripping, bone-shredding teeth, and roared so ferociously that his breath blew any loose strands of hair from my face. His exhale was hot and scented like charred flesh.

And dragons could breathe fire.

In his creature form, Xeno was perhaps slightly larger than half—not even two-thirds—the dragon’s size. My mouth tightened and my eyes watered at his readiness to die to protect me. He wasn’t even at full strength—not even close!

Xeno positioned himself squarely between me and what he perceived as my aggressor, stood as tall as he reached, and spread his ravaged wings as a shield.

Then he pointed his head downward, probably casting his gaze to the ground as well. He neither roared back nor reared, instead standing completely still.

“Oh my sunshine, Xeno,” I mumbled under my breath.

Once more, the dragon reared, stomped, and bellowed.

Holding his submissive yet defiant position, Xeno didn’t so much as twitch.

Believing these were likely his last moments of life—mine too—I whispered, “I love you, too.”

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