Page 84 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“No!” he screams, trying to kick his feet. “I’m sorry! Please! Don’t hurt me!Please!”
A growl rumbles through my chest, fire building in my throat.
I could scorch him, leave him as nothing but ash to feed the forest floor.
But when I look into his tearstained eyes, I think of Alina.
Would she want me to do this?
My dragon screamsyes, but the tiny human part of my brain saysno. And apart from the connection Alina once had with this pathetic excuse for a human, Tristan also has information the king needs—information regarding the Hand and who hired them to try to obtain me. I’ve not left any of the others alive; he is our last chance to learn of the shady workings behind the organization.
And therefore, he must live—even if every scale on my body tingles with the desire to crush him in my paw.
“Please!” he screams again. “I have a family.”
I tighten my claws around him, and he finally ceases his useless struggling, as if only now realizing how fucked he really is.
I swallow down the flames burning in my throat.
Without sparing a last look at the humans left to be claimed by the earth, I spread my wings and turn my gaze to the sky. It opens its arms to me, beckoning for me to come home.
And I wait no longer.
I fly.
Chapter 37
Alina
A BURST OF BLUE FLAMES tears across the sky, illuminating the forest and causing the horse pulling our wagon to spook. Grandfather deftly calms her down, shushing her gently as she prances in place, harness jingling.
The entire company whirls around, searching the darkness for the source of the fire.
On the front bench seat, I twist about, casting my gaze to the sky. And as I do, a reptilian scream cuts through the night.
My heart leaps.
Raelan.
He is free.
While the others pick up their pace, trying to hurry us along the narrow dirt road back toward Wysteria, I wait with a mixture of excitement and apprehension curling through my veins.
“What the hell was that?” one of the knights asks.
Another says, “It sounded like a—”
“Keep moving!” Sir Larsen calls, cutting them off swiftly.
I wonder if he knows. Grandfather most certainly does. But what of all the others? How many of them are aware of what Raelan truly is?
Another scream rends the night, this one long and echoing. It sends goose bumps dancing across my skin despite the thick cloak draped over my shoulders. The knights move faster, their armor clinking in tandem with one another as their boots strike the soft ground. They’re moving at a slow jog now, the horse pulling our wagon clipping along at a trot. No one speaks, but I can feel their fear.
It has been a century since the Dragon Wars, since most of the dragon shifters were killed or went into hiding. I was taught all about this as I grew up, but the words on the pages of my history books were only that: words. Now I feel them in my bones, have finally come to understand what the books meant when they described the awe-inspiring power of the dragons.
“Grandfather,” I say, whipping around to face him. “We should go back. We—”
A tremor shakes the ground, jostling the wagon so violently I very nearly fly from the bench. Some of the knights lose their footing and hit the ground hard. The trees around us sway and creak.
