Page 6 of Storm of Blood and Shadow

Those monsters are headed straight for us now, which means the Vohrainian army isn’t far behind. My family will have heard the alarm. I should go back to them. My sister is good at comforting her children and telling them everything will be alright. I’m good at letting them know what to expect and how I will deal with specific problems. The best antidote to fear is a solid plan.

Something creaks behind me, and I whirl around to see three men emerging from the greenhouse at the center of the rooftop garden. They’re carrying bulging canvas sacks, probably stuffed with food. They all look fairly healthy, which means they should be with the other soldiers fighting against Vohrain rather than here on the rooftop, stealing produce.

They’re deserters. Desperate men. Thieves—possibly even murderers. And I don’t like the way they’re looking at me.

“What’s in that satchel?” one of them yells.

My grip tightens around my bag, but I don’t answer him.

The man sets down his burden and walks toward me. “See here, love… everything on this rooftop belongs to us. We’ve laid claim to it.”

It’s practically an admission of murder. “None of it is yours,” I say, sidling toward the stairway door.

A second man lays down his loot and darts down one of the garden paths, cutting me off from my escape route. The third one approaches too, all three of them working to corner me.

“Give us what you have there,” says the first man.

“It’s only a little,” I reply. “My family needs it.”

He chuckles. “We’re not asking, love.”

He lunges for me and I dodge away, fleeing between the garden beds toward the side of the greenhouse. There’s a hoe propped there. If I can reach it, I can use it as a weapon.

But my ankle has had enough. It gives out with a stab of pain so excruciating that I cry out as I fall.

The ruffian grabs me by the shoulders. I scream and claw for the hoe, but I come up short. He drags me to my feet and slams me against the wall of the greenhouse, pinning both my wrists.

“Look at this little bird.” He leers down at my blue dress. “All prettied up for us. This is the best day we’ve had in a while, eh, lads?”

I twist and jerk against him, trying to get my knee into his crotch, but he’s pinning me too tightly with his body. His hot, rank breath floods my face and I turn my head, wincing.

“Pretty lady doesn’t like a man’s stink, eh?” he says hoarsely.

“Leave me alone,” I bite out. “The dragons are coming. You should run.”

“The dragons are coming, the world is ending,” he mocks my tone. “You think I don’t fucking know that? We left our posts at the wall, love. We’re sick of following orders into ruin and death. We’re going to have one last fucking meal from this fancy garden, and we’re going to get blistered drunk. And damn me if I go down without feeling a tight pussy around my cock one last time. Hold her for me, boys. We’ll take turns.”

His companions move in, crushing me against the wall. I thrash, kick, and bite while he backs up and begins undoing his belt.

I’m strong in my own way, but I’m a dancer, not a warrior, and these men are galvanized by lust and brutality. I’m immobilized within seconds, imprisoned by iron hands. They’reholding me off the ground, against the wall with my thighs pinned open, and with a sinking horror I realize they’re far too good at this. They’ve done it before.

I don’t beg for them to stop. I already know they won’t. Hearing my pleas would probably delight rather than dissuade them.

A shadow passes overhead, then another. The first man pauses in the act of unbuttoning his pants. “Fucking dragons.”

“Should we take this inside, Gandon?” asks one of the men holding me.

“The dragons will attack the war balloons and the troops along the wall first,” says Gandon. “We have a few minutes.” His dark eyes fix on mine, a lecherous malice in them. “Just enough time.”

Cock in hand, he moves forward, and I scream, more out of defiance than hope of rescue. I try to bite the forearm of the man on my left, but he shifts out of my range.

A sharp wind shears across the garden, rippling over the plants, and a giant dark shape blots out half the sky before landing with thunderous impact. A slender black dragon has perched on the edge of the rooftop, wings arched, his sinuous spiked neck rising high above us. He tilts his horned head and blinks immense amber eyes.

His stare invades my mind like a burst of lighting, like a rush of whispering shadows. I can’t explain the shock of it—the sense of instant, primal connection. It’s invasive, breathtaking.

There’s anger in his eyes, and intelligence, and above all a grief so profound it could swallow an army. But it’s the curiosity that surprises me—the keen interest, the fascination.

The men gripping my body haven’t released me yet. Maybe they’re paralyzed with terror. But their leader yells, “If I’m going to die, I’ll do it with my cock in a cunt,” and shoves up the skirt of my dress.

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