Page 47 of Dragons' Bride
I hear the shadow of magic whisper in my mind, then the stab of an invisible knife. Sharp pain shoots through me as Ettienne’s magic forces itself into my memories. My thoughts. I whimper, then scream, grabbing my head.
It does no good. Trying to shove Ettienne from my mind is like pushing a knife’s blade with bare hands.
“Stop it,” someone roars. “Now!”
Through the haze of pain I see Tavias spring to his feet and throw the whole table to its side. Food and dishes clatter onto the floor, Hauck pulling us both away from the mess just in time.
“Stop!” Tavias roars.
Ettienne’s gaze narrows. More pain slices through my head with every heartbeat.
Hauck growls, his arms wrapping tightly around me, but for the first time ever, it does no good. Through my blurred vision, I see Tavias advancing on his father. The sparks along Tavias’s purple scales now crackle like lightning bolts. Ready to burn the world to the ground.
“Tavias, don’t,” I try to say, but the words come out garbled. I try to lower my hands from my head, to look like I am alright, lest Tavias sets fire to the whole palace.
Ettienne’s eyes and magic bore into me. Unstoppably. Unrelenting.
A trickle of blood escapes my right ear and slithers down my neck.
“Father.” Up on his feet, Cyril holds his hands up toward his father while trying to get himself in Tavias’s way. I don’t think he wants to see the palace burned down either. “Father, you taught us that mind-magic wasn’t to be forced. Tavias is following your rules.”
Tavias swipes his massive arm, shoving Cyril aside. His hand is curled into a fist, flame and lightning like a glove around his hand as he faces Ettienne. “Stop or I will kill you.”
Ettienne flicks his hand and the pain stops.
I collapse against Hauck, who is now purring soothingly while I tremble.
Cyril's worried gaze brushes over every inch of my body.
Tavias lowers his hands, his chest heaving with panting breaths.
With no more table to sit at, Quinton has returned to propping up the wall and looking bored.
Ettienne swings his attention back to Tavias. “Better?” Picking up a napkin, Ettienne wipes a spot off his pants where a bit of the spilled food had landed. “For stars’ sake Tavias, it's a human.”
“Kitterny is my pack.”
“Kitterny is a mortal slave, little different from the dog you once had.”
Tavias’s fingers curl into a flaming fist again. Stars. I think he really will take a swing at the king of Massa’eve, no matter what it costs him. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me the way Tavias does. The way all of them do.
Except Quinton. I’ve had plenty of people ignore me like that.
“Just to clarify, Tavias,” Hauck drawls, his words wavering a bit. “When you ordered me to behave today, is this what you meant? Because if we are brawling, I think I can be of help.”
I am no strategist, but even I know that wasn’t the right thing to say. And I do have a well developed survival instinct.
“Your Highnesses, my liege.” Pulling myself out of Hauck’s hold, I step toward Tavias and Ettienne, trying to avoid the spilled food. “I beg your indulgence for a moment.”
They turn to me slowly.
“Given the importance of the prophecy for Massa’eve’s people against the lack of time before the start of the Equinox Trials, perhaps we might consider an alternative?” I say, thinking quickly. “For instance, might we alter my appearance and name to match Lady Cordelia? Provided that you both still intend for the pack to compete.”
“Of course the pack will compete,” Ettienne states.
Tavias lets out a slow breath, then bares his throat to Ettienne. The flame around Tavias sizzles out.
I thank the stars.
