Page 82 of Wings of Frost and Fury
His fingers slide around my ankle, toying with the bangle. “I can be very good.”
He could go and fetch his own portion, of course. There’s plenty of food. But we both enjoy this game—the seductive thrill of power and submission. I press my foot between his thighs and discover that his cock is thick and hard. My toes curl against his length through the fabric, and he releases a harsh breath.
“Watch me eat,” I say softly. “And then you may have your own portion.”
Perhaps it’s strange to take on these roles before others, in an area where eyes will be drawn to us out of sheer curiosity. But truthfully, the public display of our dynamic only enhances my arousal, and I suspect Ashvelon feels the same way. I remove my foot from his cock while I finish my meal, though he remains on his knees before me.
No one else approaches while I’m eating. When I’m done, I direct Ashvelon to walk away and compose himself before he goes to fill his own trencher.
While he’s gone, a couple more women come over to greet me. One offers me a portion of the root vegetable mash she has made, and I gratefully accept. After a brief conversation, they move on, and two other women bid me welcome.
As they’re introducing themselves, I hear a cry from the farthest bonfire, then a massive retching, choking sound.
“Gracious!” exclaims the dainty girl in front of me, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Is someone sick?”
About twenty paces away, a dragon with green scales falls on his side, panting hard, a long moan rattling from his throat. A red dragon with curved spikes begins to heave, then vomits copious amounts of masticated meat and bile from his jaws.
One woman screams, and several others voice exclamations of shock and disgust.
Cold dread cloaks my bones and I rise, letting the trencher fall into the grass. Ashvelon reappears from the darkness and moves to my side, his hand circling my arm just above the elbow, assuring me of his presence.
Another dragon vomits, and two more of them keel over, seeming to have lost all their strength in an instant.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no. Not after everything.No.”
“What is happening?” The dainty girl’s eyes are full of tears.
“Ashvelon, how do you feel?” I ask. “Any pains?”
“None.”
“And you didn’t eat any of the prey from the Middenwold before now?”
“No. You think…”
“I think it’s poisoned.” I raise my hand, motioning for Bryenne to approach. She runs over to me, and I say tersely, “We need to tell everyone to stop eating the meat. Go to the other fires and let the dragons know.”
“At once, Enchantress.” She sprints toward the second bonfire.
I stride forward into the glow of the first fire and lift both hands, raising my voice. “Stop eating the meat! Humans and dragons alike—eat no more of the meat from the Middenwold Isles!”
A thick liquid groan from another vomiting dragon drowns out my words, so I shout them again. Ashvelon quietly strips off his clothing, transforms into his dragon shape, and takes to the air, bellowing the warning.
“Fly to the caves,” I call up to him. “Tell any other dragons who might have stayed with their eggs. Warn them that the meat may be poisoned. And then go back to our cave and fetch my bag. You know the one.”
With an affirming growl, he soars away into the night.
I’m left in the firelit circle, surrounded by chattering, anxious women and most of the dragon clan, all of whom are taking turns being violently sick.
The smell… the awful fuckingsmell. It’s enough to make me want to retch, and I’m fairly sure I’m not poisoned. None of the women seem to be, even though we all ate the meat. Granted, it was cooked, but cooking doesn’t necessarily counter poison. It could be another sort of contamination. I won’t know until I have my supplies and I can test it.
Deep down, though, I’m convinced it’s poison. It’s all too convenient. First, a plague wipes out most of the prey on the islands immediately surrounding Ouroskelle, forcing the dragons to turn their attention to the Middenwold Isles as a food source. The Middenwold Isles belong to Vohrain, so the dragons agree to help King Rahzien with his war in exchange for those hunting grounds. Yet, when the war ends, and the dragons are finally able to hunt the Isles, they all sicken immediately.
Either the prey on the Middenwold Isles was already polluted, and Rahzien knew it—or he orchestrated the contamination himself, which points to poison. And not just any kind of poison, because the animals seemed perfectly healthy,and according to what Ashvelon told me, the island environment showed no other signs of corruption.
This poison was activated somehow. It wasn’t simply the animals’ death that did it—it was the introduction of something new, something specific. Dragon teeth, or more likely, dragon saliva.
Saliva would be the ideal trigger if one were using a magical poison designed to kill dragons. But why would Rahzien turn on the allies who helped to secure his victory?
