Page 57 of Wings of Frost and Fury
Ashvelon rumbles a warning, deep in his throat. “You will not kill her.”
“If she does not cooperate, I will,” Kyreagan says.
“No. I won’t allow it.” Ashvelon’s wings rise in sharp peaks. His shoulders seem to grow in bulk, rigid with defiance as he stalks forward.
Kyreagan takes on the same fierce stance, his wings and neck arched. “I am your prince, Ashvelon. You will do as I say.”
Now comes the test of my dragon’s loyalty. Will he protect me, or will he bow to the command of his leader?
“Obeying you got us into this mess,” says Ashvelon. “Shedding her blood will rectify nothing.”
Damn.I did not expect that level of rebellion from my dragon. I fear he’s coming on too strong.
“Boys, boys.” I step between them, my balance wavering a little, the liquid sloshing in my cup. Perhaps I shouldn’t have drunk quite so much wine first thing in the morning, on an empty stomach.
“There’s no need for this,” I tell the dragons. “The spell isn’t reversible—you can kidnap any other sorcerer you like and ask them. They’ll tell you it’s impossible. I couldn’t undo it if I wanted to.”
It’s true—I can’t undo the spell. It could be temporarily diverted or blocked by the right type of counterspell, but it is effectively permanent.
“Let’s focus on the good news.” I pat Kyreagan’s nose again, intending to calm him, but he only bristles more, so I move a few steps away, closer to Ashvelon. “You can still have the mating frenzy that you’re all looking forward to so desperately, and you’ll get to enjoy hatching season. The offspring that come out of the eggs might be a bit different than what you expected, but the whole point is to continue the dragon race, right? So as long as the traits are preserved in some form—”
Kyreagan lunges, swinging his great horned head and knocking me aside, away from Ashvelon. The wine already has me off-balance, so the blow carries me farther than he probably intended, and I slam against the cave wall. My cup flies from my hand, spilling scarlet liquid.
There’s a half-second in which I see Kyreagan’s expression of surprise and regret before Ashvelon roars, spraying blue frost-fire into his Prince’s face.
Serylla is at my side. I’m not quite sure how she got off Kyreagan’s back and made it over here so fast, but I’m touched by her concern.
“Are you alright?” she exclaims. “He didn’t mean—he wouldn’t—”
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I want to see!”
The two dragons are bellowing at each other, thrashing, clawing, jaws snapping. I can’t shake the image of two cats hissing, spitting, and batting their paws in a show of dominance. The comparison almost makes me laugh.
“Don’t crush the supplies,” I call to them. “Watch out for the wine! Please, god, not the wine.”
Serylla giggles.
I always liked her as a child, and I’m beginning to think I’ll like her as an adult, too, especially if she can laugh while two dragons are brawling a few steps away from us.
Grabbing my empty cup, I make a face at the spilled wine. “Such a pity. I’m going to pour another. Do you want some?”
“Please,” Serylla says eagerly. “My beverage of choice is tea, and I’ve felt dreadfully deprived. Wine will do the trick nicely, though.”
Realization dawns in my mind. “So that’s what Ashvelon meant. On our way here he was upset, kept saying that he’d forgotten to ‘do the tea’ or ‘ask about tea’ on behalf of his prince.”
“It’s alright.” Serylla shrugs, smiling. “These dragons don’t know what they’re doing half the time.”
“Much like human men.”
“You’re not wrong.”
I smile at her, then glance at her dragon. Perhaps Kyreagan is more than just a brawling, demanding, hotheaded male. His desire to provide tea for the Princess is actually rather sweet.
Cautiously I circle the battling pair and fetch a wine bottle from the nest before returning to Serylla. We watch them tangle and snarl, and I resist the urge to cheer loudly for Ashvelon. At last, to my dismay, Kyreagan pins him down.
A sharp pulse of terror pierces my heart as Ashvelon’s body heaves, trying to break the hold and rise. Kyreagan doesn’t let him up. He snarls at Ashvelon, a savage warning to submit.
Surely the Prince won’t kill him. Not when every dragon’s life is precious. But I’m terrified all the same.
