Page 43 of The Dragon 2
Moonlight barely reached here—just thin streaks of silver.
I must get to safety.
Sol moved quickly, her shawl now drawn tight across her shoulders, bare feet silent on the cold, broken path.
But then,a scent coiled in the air, faint and strange.
She paused.
I know that scent.
She sniffed once, and then again.
Is that jasmine? Sharp and wild. Yes.
Her brows drew together.
That didn’t make any sense. There were no flowers around the Lowly Quarter.
No gardens.
No perfumed bodies.
Nothing but soot and rot.
And then—beneath the scent—stormwater. Clean and electric, like rain clinging to rooftops after lightning.
And under that?
Flame.
Not woodsmoke or burnt meat. But true flame. The kind that breathed.
Her pulse stuttered.
No. Korin’s scent. It couldn’t be.
She spun in place, scanning the road again. Yet, it was empty and still. But the scent wrapped around her and thickened with every breath.
It is him. Korin.
That impossible, maddening fragrance she could still feel curled beneath her skin. It was the scent that had invaded her magic, threaded through her veins when her power collided with his.
“Impossible,” she whispered.
If Korin were here—truly here—the kingdom would already be screaming. The warning bells would be ringing. Soldiers would be loudly marching to fight him.
The sky would be full of fire.
The earth would quake under his wings.
And this road?
It was too narrow.
Too cramped.
Too broken.
