Page 83 of A Witch and Her Dragon
“No!” It’s the woman this time, their leader. “Don’t open that door. Keep walking.”
Her voice is like a thorn in my boot, a finger pressing into a wound.
They took Alina from me. They dared threaten her. And now they’ll pay.
I scream again, the pain mounting until I’m slumped forward, the chains the only thing holding me upright as agony rips through my body.
And then, all at once, it’s over.
The chain around my neck snaps, its magic having finally given way. The broken links fall into my lap and around my boots, clinking against the wooden floorboards. Behind my blindfold, my eyes flash open. A smile curls across my lips.
The transformation is quick; my dragon is ready.
My bones shift, my skin pulls. Scales form across my arms and legs. My gums split to make way for my fangs.
As my body writhes, the chains attempting to hold me put up a final protest. Then they, too, succumb to me, snapping and snaking into heavy piles upon the floorboards. The shackles they clasped around my ankles break free, the blindfold tears.
Then the wagon is suddenly too small. It can no longer hold me. The wood creaks as my scaled spine presses against it. With a cacophony of snapping, the wood splinters.
And those standing closest to me scream.
My body tears free of the wagon, leaving it a crumpled mess of wood and metal. My weight crushes it down, breaking the yoke holding the horses to the wagon. Immediately, they flee, leaving the humans stranded and entirely at my mercy.
As the transformation completes, I unfurl my inky wings and stretch them toward the night sky. It feels like a breath of clean air, a glass of water after a long hard journey. For a brief moment, the relief distracts me.
Until an arrow attempts to puncture my scaled hide.
My gaze snaps to the stupid human who thought it wise to attempt such a thing. I surge forward, and he has but a second to scream before he’s nothing more than a mess beneath my clawed paw, flattened into the earth.
The others level their weapons at me and loose their arrows all at once. Each sharpened arrowhead glances harmlessly off my scales, doing nothing but angering me further.
But this anger feelsgood. It feelsright.
These men and women are kidnappers, assassins, spies. They threatened my king. They threatened my mate. And they won’t ever do it again. Not to me, and not to anyone I love.
I scream my rage to the sky, a burst of blue flames burning through my chest before shooting toward the clouds overhead, lighting up the blackness stretching across the land. Then I turn my slitted gaze toward the mass of panicking humans.
And the justice I dole out is swift.
The unbridled power coiling though my body is why they killed my ancestors, hunted us until we were very nearly a thing only of legend. But they don’t understand that theymadeus this way. They gave us a reason to fight, to defend ourselves and our loved ones.
It didn’t have to be this way. But humans rarely learn from their mistakes.
Instead, they lean on pride and arrogance, wrapping themselves in it as though it will protect them.
Tonight, the Veiled Hand learns. And I will be their teacher.
WHEN THE SCREAMING STOPS AND the forest falls silent, I take a moment to assess the damage. A few trees fell victim to my rage, and they lie about the forest floor, their pine needles blanketing the rich earth. The animals all fled, leaving the night quiet and still save for the far-off rumble of thunder. The humans are dead. All except for one. I search the trees for him. And my gaze homes in on his familiar face.
Tristan.
He’s attempting to hide behind a tree I felled with a single swoop of my tail. His hair is matted and tangled with leaves and pine needles, his eyes wide, blood dripping from a cut on his temple. He at least has the good sense to look terrified.
Aware he’s been spotted, he pushes to his feet and attempts to flee into the dark woods.
Stupid human.
I surge forward, and with one swipe of my claws, I scoop him up, relishing the scent of his fear as he writhes and struggles to escape my hold. I lift him to my eye level.
