Page 119 of Edge of the Wild

“Amelia, behind you!” He lifted his sword.

And the ground thudded as the dragon closed in around her; his tail curled in front of her, caging her in, and his head dropped level with hers, frill extending. Its jaws opened, wicked ivory teeth on display, and it hissed. It gathered a deep breath.

“Wait!” Amelia shouted. Without thinking, she laid a hand on its neck, felt the smoothness of scales, and the heat of fire, and the incredible strength of muscle beneath. “Wait, not him, not his men, they’re friends!”Please, she thought.No.

The dragon’s eye rolled toward her, but his jaws closed. He snorted, annoyed, she thought. But his tail drew back.

Reginald stared, slack-jawed. Behind him, swords flashed, and fire jetted, and men screamed. Finally, he drew a breath, and said, “Fuck. A dragon.”

~*~

Dawn broke in lovely yellows and pinks, its light playing over the unloveliest of scenes. At the far reaches of the Dale estate, in a barren, blackened swath of clear-cut wood littered with tree stumps, the bonfire had burned out, and was surrounded now with fallen, singed corpses. More than a hundred. An entire company of Sels. All dead.

A few lay unburned, cut down or struck through with arrows. Reginald and his men had arrived just in time to push the skirmish over in favor of Amelia’s ragtag group – or, rather, of her dragons. Unarmed saved for stolen knives, the Strangers and Drakewell men had done little actual fighting.

Herdragons. There were five of them, and she couldn’t help thinking of them that way.

They had gathered together at a distance from the men, huddled together…eating. She watched one use its claws to delicately pry golden armor from burned flesh before leaning down to take a bite, and turned away, swallowing.

The first dragon – the alpha, she thought, the large male she’d first encountered, and who’d comforted her over Mal, who’d tried to defend her from Reginald, sat apart from his fellows, on his haunches like a dog, watching the human proceedings with clear fascination.

They’re smart, she thought.Ungodly smart.

She glanced away from his shining red-gold gaze and toward Reginald, who stood with her, and with Connor: they were three leaders, of a type, the unlikeliest battlefield officer meeting she’d ever thought to be a part of.

“How did you find us?” she asked Reginald, more than a little shocked that her voice came out steady. She was beyond exhausted, but talking of practical things was the only way she knew how to cope. It was that or collapse.

The high collar of Reginald’s tunic, worn beneath a silver breastplate and heavy leather pauldrons, wasn’t high enough to hide the scar on his throat, dark and ugly in the dawn light. His face looked more serious – realer – than she’d ever seen it. All his charm and veneer had been replaced with a competent, take-charge captain, and she appreciated that more than she could say. “Your horse showed up at Drake Hall two days ago without you. He had this hanging off his bridle.” He reached into the satchel he wore strapped over one shoulder and withdrew a Sel gauntlet, gold – but scratched, muddied, and dented – and with unmistakeable dark brown smears of blood at the cuff. “Your poor mother actually fainted.”

“She did?”

“A little. We were at the breakfast table. I managed to catch her before she ended up drowning in the porridge course.” He flicked a fast grin, then smoothed it away when Amelia didn’t respond. “We rode out right away. Though it appears” – he glanced over his shoulder toward the dragons, face paling, scarred throat jumping as he swallowed – “we weren’t necessary.”

“No, you helped. Thank you for coming.”

He shuddered, refocused, and looked back at her. “Of course.” He shook his head. “You know, if I wasn’t looking at them with my own eyes – and listening to themeat our enemies” – another shudder – “I would think I’m hallucinating. Am I?” He glanced to Connor, back to her. “Are we all? Is there some sort of…I don’t know, toxic gas here? An underground sulfur pit?”

“They’re real,” Connor said, his gaze fixed on the huddle of feasting drakes. “And so are the old legends about the Drakes.” He looked toward Amelia, a spark of something like excitement – obscene, in this moment – in his eyes. “They came to you, Amelia. You were hurt, and distressed, and they answered your call.”

“I didn’t call them.”

“Maybe not consciously, but they sensed you. They came into camp last night with the sole intention of protecting you.”

“You don’t know that.”

His brows lifted as if to say,really?

She huffed a frustrated breath. “I have no idea what’s going on – stop looking at me like that, I don’t!” she snapped, as his brows lifted another fraction.

“That thing was wrapping you up like a mother bear,” Reginald said, slightly awestruck. “It was ready to blast me – and you told it no, that I was a friend, and it backed down. Itlistenedto you.”

“I…” Her protest died, because he had listened to her. And whether he’d understood the words or her urgency, she had no idea.

The back of her neck prickled; that presence made itself known again, in her mind. She turned her head and met the dragon’s gaze across the scorched field; he tilted his head in silent question. Asking if she was all right, she thought, a little wildly.

“Look at that,” Reginald said. “That’s not natural. It’s bad enough you can fucking talk to that murderous horse of yours. Now dragons? You’re like the heroine of a bloody fairy tale.”

Amelia shot him a look.

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