“King Dax is just too smitten with you to see it.”
Smitten?If she wasn’t so terrified, Roa might have laughed.
“Is that so?” said a familiar voice.
Roa froze. Both soldats looked up.
Trying to keep them in her peripheral vision, Roa turned slightly, looking to the owner of the voice.
The dragon king leaned casually against an orange tree, a full cup of wine in his hand.
Surprised, the woman said, “King Dax...”
“I’m curious.” Dax sloshed the red wine in his cup, and Roa smelled the sharp tang of it even from here. “What gives you the impression I’m smitten with the queen?”
Suddenly, strong hands came down on Roa’s arms, pulling her back and trapping her against a solid chest. She struggled, heart pounding, trying to cut and slash with Essie’s knife. But the soldat was stronger. He pinned her to him with one arm. Grabbing her wrist, he twisted hard until a sharp jolt of pain made her let go of the hilt. As soon as the knife fell, he caught it and pressed its cold edge to her throat.
Roa went immediately still.
Dax’s brow darkened.
“Let her go,” he said, pushing away from the tree.
The wolfish soldat stepped between him and Roa. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. She’s dangerous, my lord.”
Roa stared in shock. Disobeying her was one thing. But disobeying theking?
“Dangerous?” Dax growled. “She’s half your size.”
And then, it happened so fast, Roa almost missed it: Dax threw his wine in the woman’s face and drew her weapon.
The soldat spluttered.
Dax lifted the blade, the look in his eyes pure fury. “Move aside.”
The soldat stared at him. Dax lifted the blade higher, pressing the tip against the woman’s throat. The soldat raised her hands, backing away from the armed king.
But even from here, Roa could see Dax’s grip was all wrong.
For the first time, it struck her as strange. Strange that a boy of twenty-one—a boy who’d beentrainedwith weapons even if he was lousy at using them—didn’t know how to properly hold a saber.
It wastoostrange.
“My wife is a great many things.” Dax made slow steps forward. The blade glimmered as he pointed it at the first soldat while staring down the second. “Cold, calculating, unkind... but dangerous? Look at her. She’s somehow managed to walk her throat into her own knife.”
As he said this, a third soldat melted out of the trees, his hilt raised, ready to knock the king unconscious.
“Dax!” Roa cried out. “Behind you!”
As he turned, Roa rammed the back of her head into her captor’s teeth. Pain burst behind her eyes. The guard swore, dropping Essie’s knife, and Roa twisted free, snatching it up. The king and queen spun at the same time: Dax toward the two other soldats, Roa toward her captor.
Their spines hit. Dax’s back was solid and warm against hers and his peppermint smell enveloped her. He raised his stolen sword, staring down his opponents while Roa stared down hers.
His voice rumbled through her. “As soon as I say the word, I want you to run. Understood?”
Before she could answer, something glinted to her right. She looked to find a fourth soldat stepping onto the path, gripping a small throwing knife in his hand.
From the size of it, Roa knew how fast it would fly, how far in the blade would sink, how deadly it could be if it hit her in just the right spot. She might be able to duck out of the way. But Dax stood directly behind her. If she ducked, if that knife buried itself in Dax’s heart, Roa would never set her sister free.
