Page 3 of A Witch for Solstice
BRIGID
The thrill of flying wears off as quickly as my buzz does. Being hauled around in an iron box isn’t nearly as enjoyable as a whimsical broomstick flight. My stomach turns somersaults along with every twist and dip as the dragons jerk me about, but hot waves of energy seep into the chest, and I realize they’re breathing flames into the air before them.
I draw in as much of their fiery breaths as I can, feeding off of the little bursts of magic. It drives the cold away, filling me with a warmth that tingles all the way to my extremities. My magic is my saving grace; it quells the nausea rising in my throat as I sense the dragons’ descent. I brace myself for their landing, but my body bounces around inside the chest when they hit the ground.
“Ooof.”
There’s no reprieve from being jostled by their movements. I’m marched along at a steady cadence, using what time I have left to prepare a speech in my head. We come to an abrupt stop, and the chest is lowered again.
“It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be,” a dragon says, his voice muffled by the metal walls of my container. “Are you sure I can’t have a peek, Your Majesty?”
My heart jumps to my throat. I’m really doing this. I’ve really delivered myself straight to the Dragon Queen.
There’s an answering laugh. “Get out of here, Daniel. You know I’m the only one who can see what’s inside. Let’s have some respect for tradition.”
“If you insist,my Queen.”
I cross my fingers that the laughter ringing around me means the Queen is in a jolly mood. Hopefully she won’t open the chest and immediately catapult me through a window for trespassing. I need a few moments of her time to propose a deal.
My spiraling thoughts are halted by the creaking of the lid hinges. Warm light cuts through the darkness, and I’m greeted by a golden dragon’s oval face staring down at me.
She’s the woman I saw from my window at the Academy, but up this close I can see the dark yellow of her eyes and the amber prisms scattered through them. Her vertical pupils narrow, and I know I’m supposed to say something, but my head is empty.
I’m struck by her unique beauty, and the intoxicating perfume she’s wearing. She smells of smoke and pine needles, somehow evoking a sense of nostalgia for cherished Solstice memories, which is strange because I don’t have any.
“It—it’s a witch in a box,” she remarks. “You’re not the treasure I was expecting. ” The slits of her nostrils flare with a deep inhalation. “On second thought…” Those citrine eyes roam over my body. “You could be.”
A lone ember sparks from her mouth. She catches it in her hand and pinches it between two claws to put it out. A shudder rolls through me, the close proximity to fire overwhelming.
Get a grip,I tell myself. I should be begging for mercy, not imagining myself curled up beneath a balsam fir tree with theDragon Queen just because she smells good and happens to be pretty.
“Your Majesty, my name is Brigid.” I pull myself to my knees, launching into an explanation before the rush of magic makes it even harder to speak. “I’m a member of the Shadowthorne Coven, and I’ve come to—”
Power wells in me, cutting off my speech.
My eyes widen as I take in the sight of the stone chamber we’re in. I’ve never seen anything like it. The Queen is in her humanoid form, but there’s enough space here to hold court for several full-sized dragons. Tall arched windows line the walls, snow falling past the iron embellishments adorning their frames. A red aisle runner splits the grey room in half, ending at the foot of an enormous throne.
It’s not the elaborate designs or the vastness of it all that has my attention, though—it’s the solstice ornaments. Streams of red banners are pinned to the high ceilings, and plump circles of evergreen wreaths dangle from golden chains, white candles cradled within their holly rings.
I can’t look away from their flickering flames. I’m hit by a bolt of energy. It’s too much, too fast.
My lashes flutter, and my belly tightens with a trill of anticipation as fire spreads through my veins. I can’t contain it. My magic materializes in a ribbon of flames dancing between my fingers. I try to hold it back, but it coils tight and releases all at once, leaping toward the Queen.
“The trick with the treasure chest was clever, but Headmistress Maven should’ve known better than to send a fire witch to kill me,” she says, patting her burning sleeve with a scaly hand, unbothered by my outburst. “It’s common knowledge that dragons are flame resistant.”
The singed patch on her suit jacket exposes the upper portion of her arm. I pry my eyes away from her toned bicep, and hersharp teeth flash in a crooked smile, as if she knows exactly where I was looking.
“Headmistress Maven didn’t send me,” I clarify. “I didn’t come here to kill you, but to ask for your mercy.”
A bead of sweat drips past my temple, sliding down my neck. I grip the lip of the chest tighter, too lightheaded to keep myself upright.
“You sent yourself? Why?” The Queen’s smile falters, a concerned expression taking its place. “What would’ve happened to you if we’d dropped the chest, or if I hadn’t unlocked it? You could have been seriously injured, or worse.”
It does seem pretty silly when she puts it like that, but what can I say? I’m desperate.
“I’m hoping that you might allow me to stay in your territory and join one of the fire witch communities,” I plead. “There’s not much I can offer you in exchange for this request aside from myself.” I move to my feet and lean against the lid, touching the red bow tied above my navel. “Please give me a chance. I’ll do anything.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and she purses her lips, curling her claws beneath her chin. I’m already sweltering from the torrents of fiery energy running under my skin, but my face heats even more as she stands in silence, considering.
