Page 83 of Wings of Frost and Fury
If he’s anything like the Queen of Elekstan, he did this because he can’t stand anyone too powerful, anyone who poses a potential challenge, either now or in the future. Anything that threatens his position cannot be allowed to exist. That’s why he wanted Serylla, the rightful heir to the Elekstan throne. And that’s why he wants to wipe out the dragons.
If Rahzien always intended to kill off his winged allies, the poison must have been administered to the game on the Middenwold Isles shortly before the conclusion of the war. I wonder what went through the King’s mind when he found out that my father did half the job for him.
Fuck them both. Arrogant, selfish, power-mad assholes.
All around me, dragons are groaning, panting, heaving, spewing the contents of their stomachs. The women who have learned to love them are speaking quiet words of comfort, their voices strained with concern. After everything we have endured, it’s too much, and yet somehow, these women are finding the courage to be strong for their captors.
They shouldn’t have to.
I climb onto the stump of a tree, one that snapped off fairly cleanly in the storm and left a mostly level surface on which I can stand upright.
“Women and dragons of Ouroskelle,” I call out. “I believe the prey from the Middenwold Isles was poisoned, most likely by Rahzien or a sorcerer in his employ. I will have to test boththe meat and the dragons’ blood to be sure. Once Ashvelon returns with my supplies, we can begin the tests.”
“Rahzien was our ally,” groans the green dragon near me. “Why would he want to wipe us out?”
“Because he is a traitorous fucking cunt,” I say. “Any more questions?”
One of the nearby women is looking up at me. Her voice is calm, though tears glisten against her cheeks. “Will our dragons die?”
I hesitate, my mind racing.
Poison for dragons, activated by dragon saliva. Magical poison that had no effect on the humans.
“Your dragons,” I say tersely, hardly daring to hope. “They aren’t just dragons anymore. They’re human too. Their human side might be resistant to the poison. Tell your dragons to shift if they can. Most of them have been in dragon form all day, so they should be able to change for a while. Tell them to stay human as long as possible. If I’m right, it should ease their symptoms.”
Word travels quickly around the first bonfire, and the women spread the message to the other two groups as well. One after another, the dragons shift from their mighty winged forms to their much smaller and very naked human bodies.
Bryenne approaches me again, her eyes hard—the eyes of a soldier in battle. “We’re all vulnerable here,” she says in an undertone. “My dragons told me about the packs of fenwolves that inhabit Ouroskelle. Like us, the wolves would have taken shelter during the storm. Those who survived will be famished.”
“So we’re grounded here, with dragons who can’t transform yet or they might die, without weapons, and with packs of starving fenwolves out there in the dark.”
“That’s right.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Me?” She blinks.
“You’re a warrior. A knight. You have more combat experience that anyone else here.”
“Combat, yes.” A worried frown creases her brow. “Strategy, no.”
“We’re all trying new things, aren’t we? Like dragon dick.” I smirk.
Bryenne gives me a wan smile in return.
“Give yourself a chance to shine,” I continue. “What do you think we should do to survive the night? How should we defend ourselves? And keep in mind, my magical energy is very low at the moment, so spellwork isn’t an option.”
She chews her lower lip, scanning the black forest. It’s broken and bristling, stripped of leaves by the storm.
“Sharp sticks,” she says. “We have those in abundance. We need to build a wall with them, and we can use them as weapons too.”
“Good,” I say. “Keep going.”
“We consolidate to one group. It’s easier to defend one circle than three, and that way we only have to feed one fire.”
“Excellent.”
“When we go to gather the sticks, we should stay in groups of three or four and carry torches.”
