Page 63 of Bride of the Black Dragon
“What have you done to me?” His voice is hoarse—choked with fury.
To my horror, I see that the golden glow of his Drake’s eye—the one that always burns faintly beneath the fall of his dark hair—is fading…dimmed.
Queen Virelda smiles. It’s the kind of smile that makes me want to back away.
“This, my son, is a restraining collar,” she says, almost purring. “It will keep your Drake from coming out as long as you wear it. But just to be on the safe side, I think you’d better spend some time in the dungeons as well. After all, we can’t let you get away with threatening the Crown Prince. You must be punished.”
“No!” The cry tears itself from my throat. “No, please—Xaren doesn’t deserve this! He was only protecting me!”
“Don’t fight for me, little dove,” Xaren says roughly, his voice heavy with warning. “I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
“The Princess is already in trouble,” the Queen says sharply. Her gaze lands on me like the edge of a knife. “I had no idea, when I sent her to you, that she would cause such chaos. She is to be confined to her rooms until further notice. I’ll decide what to do with her later.”
My knees go weak. Confined—locked away.
I’ll be a prisoner as much as Xaren will be, locked in the dungeons.
But before I can speak, Xaren’s voice turns deadly quiet.
“So help me, Mother,” he says, each word low and vibrating with rage, “If you hurt my wife—if you touch one hair on her head?—”
“Enough!” The Queen cuts him off with a gesture, and suddenly the guards are on him again.
They swarm like wolves, grabbing his arms, shoving him to his knees. He fights—Goddess how he fights—throwing three of them off with sheer brute strength. But without his Drake’s power, he’s outnumbered…overwhelmed.
They force his wrists behind his back, snapping iron shackles around them. Chains clatter and drag as they clamp his ankles next, linking them to his wrists in cruel, heavy loops.
“Xaren!” I scream. I try to run to him, but two guards seize my arms, yanking me backward. The pain shoots up my shoulders, and I cry out.
“Don’t worry, little dove,” he says, lifting his chin despite the weight of the chains. His golden gaze—dim now, but still defiant—locks on mine. “We’ll be together again.”
“Enough,” the Queen says coolly. “Off to the dungeons with him. And take the girl to her rooms. I’m sick to death of her face.”
“Yes—lock her away, Mother,” Dorian smirks, his pale face alight with malice. “Get rid of the little bitch!”
I glare at the Queen.
“I can understand you treating me this way, but Xaren is your son!” I say to her. “How can you?—”
But my words are cut off as the guards drag me from the chamber. My feet stumble on the polished floor. My tears blur everything—the torches, the throne, the cold, hard faces of the courtiers.
The last thing I see before the great doors slam shut is Xaren—chained and collared, but still standing tall—his eyes locked on mine until the darkness swallows him whole.
And then he’s gone and I know I may never see him again.
I have never felt more hopeless in my life.
32
ELAINA
The guards never leave.
Every time I glance at the heavy oaken door to my chambers, I see the flicker of movement behind the stained-glass panel—the glint of steel, the edge of a boot, the rigid stance of discipline. Two men-at-arms, posted just outside at all hours. They rotate—it’s not always the same two but there are always two there.
Queen Virelda isn’t taking any chances. She means to keep me locked away like some disobedient child, or a dangerous pet.
But I’m neither.
