Page 120 of Dreams and Dragon Wings
But where I am forged from light, he clings to darkness. Shadows writhe around him like a living cloak, making him seem even larger—taller—than he truly is. He tries to frighten me like a bogeyman trying to frighten a child.
But I refuse to be frightened by this pitiful creature any longer.
“Worthy?” he repeats, his tongue handling that single word as if it is a curse. His eyes skim across me, taking me in. Judging. Weighing. Clearly finding me lacking. “I believe you have made the grave mistake of thinking that I need you, girl.”
All the things I truly wish to say, I lock away deep inside me. Voicing them aloud will do no one any good. I must remember why I am here. Why I must do the things I do.
I stamp my reasons on my heart. I brand them into my soul.
I do this for my God. For Drakara. For Bene. For my family—both living and dead.
For me.
“No, I know you don’t need me,” I contradict, lifting my chin.
Malice arches his eyebrow in reply.
Steadying my heart, I paint a false smile across my lips. I force my tone to gentle.
Softer now, I coo, “But youwantme.”
All the air rushes from the room with those four words alone. Thunder booms, vibrating the very stone beneath my feet. The sound shivers through my bones.
A muscle in Malice’s jaw ticks as he looks down at me with such intensity that my blood turns to frost. My mind whirls. Did I take the game a step too far? Did I say the wrong thing? Did I misjudge my opponent?
With the next flash of lightning, my captor now stands close. As close as my shield will allow.
“What do you want from me?” he asks, his voice deeper now, as if dragged from somewhere primal.
I answer him immediately, no longer playing coy: “A kingdom.”
His gaunt visage twists in confusion. “I already plan to give you a kingdom.” He flings out his arm, gesturing to the now shadowed ballroom littered with its lifeless puppets. “I plan to give you the world!”
“No,” I vehemently deny, shaking my head. “You plan to giveyourselfthe world. You merely want me to witness you do it.” Drawing myself up to my full height, I demand with all the authority of aTherya’fey:“I want this kingdom.Mykingdom. I want the Flora Vale, as it once was before.”
A sharp laugh slices from Malice’s throat, mocking and cold. “Is that truly all you desire?” He dismisses the idea with a vague wave of his hand. “I will soon have all of Drakara. What need have I for this place? Take it. It is yours.”
I hardly dare to breathe. This is it. “The way it once was before?”
Malice huffs out an amused breath. “Goblin-free is what you mean, I take it? They are yours to do with as you like, my dear. I no longer have any need of them. Drive them out. Smother them. Drown them. Whatever takes your fancy.”
A flicker of silver within the shadowed edges of the ballroom catches my attention.
I purse my lips to hide my growing smile.
“Out of curiosity,” I sweetly ask, “can the goblins hear us speak when we are within these illusions?”
Now it is Malice’s turn to scoff. “No. Of course not.” But then his gaze sharpens. His eyes narrow. Softer still, he questions, “Why?”
I shrug, feigning innocence. “It just suddenly occurred to me, ‘What would the goblins think if they knew their king held them in such low regard?’”
A strange noise disturbs the air, sounding just beneath the false laughter and the lilting music that still plays. Both cut out in the next moment, leaving only the other sound—a great clacking.
Like the gnashing of many sharp goblin teeth.
“What have you done?” Malice snarls, fury boiling in his blood-red eyes.
“Nothing,” I answer truthfully, no longer fighting to hide my smile. “But I cannot speak forher.”
