Page 37 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
He retaliates instantly.
The back of his hand slams into my mouth. White-hot pain explodes in its wake.
And something else—something strange.
Something that surges through me like a crack of lightning, a peal of thunder, rendering me breathless. Light-headed.
I reel, losing my balance, crashing to the floor. The letter opener flies from my fingers. The carpet muffles my landing, but not the sting. Not the shock.
My mouth throbs. My cheek blazes. My thoughts scatter.
A man has never struck me before.
“Do not do that again,” he warns from where he now looms over me, his tone calm.
Too calm.
But I barely hear him over the sudden rush of blood in my ears. Over the staccato pounding of my heart. Over the fury that roars to life within my heart
Raw. Primal. That rage surges through me like wildfire, devouring all in its path.
My fear. My good sense.
Ignoring the pain throbbing through my face, ignoring the tang of copper coating my tongue, I bare my teeth and lunge toward the man who dared strikeme.
I have no plan. No thoughts. No desire at all beyond hurting him in kind.
With claw, fang, or flame.
Friedemar’s foot catches me in the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs and the fight from my heart as I crash back to the floor. I land hard, gasping for breath.
What is wrong with me? Never before have I ever felt so…angry.
I curl in on myself, my arms protecting my midsection, and swallow down a sob.
I willnotcry in front of this man. I will not let him see me break.
“Now, then,” he says, as if my brief assault were a mere rude interruption, as if the blood slowly staining his doublet were a mild inconvenience. “As I was saying—you will stay here for the night as my guest. Anything you desire will be yours. Simply call for a servant, and they will ensure you have what you need. I want to make sure you’re comfortable here in your new home, my dear Jewel.”
Jewelhe calls me again.
Am I… truly not human?
Or is he simply as mad as he is cruel?
My arms tighten around my stomach to hide the trembles wracking my form. I can’t consider such things right now. I have more important matters to deal with.
Later, I promise myself. I can consider my humanity later.
For now, I stare up at this man—this lunatic—and whisper, “The only thing I desire is my freedom, Your Majesty.”
Clearly unfazed, he drawls, “You may have anything but that.”
My mind races, desperate for a way out of this.
If I can only get him to leave, perhaps I can escape down the balcony.
“But your guests,” I softly remind Friedemar, trying to reason with him as I cautiously ease myself back to a sitting position. I am still light-headed, but at least my odd fit of rage has passed. “Your ball. There are still so many ladies waiting to meet you…”
