What's next, I wonder?
What are they all hiding?
You won't survive this…unless you truly believe in the bond.
I'm beginning to think that thethisGareth was referring to was more than just whatever training he has in store forme; I'm not going to survive the palace itself unless I find a way to untangle its lies and navigate my way through all of its dangerous, powerful players.
The thought of doing that alone is daunting.
I can't trust anyone here.
Until I get Briar back, the only other creaturenottied to this palace, not tangled up in its secrets…is the stupid dragon lounging nearby.
Begrudgingly, I glance her way.
She's already glaring at me, as if she can sense the tiniest crack starting to form in my defenses toward her, and she's smugly waiting for me to let the rest of the wall come crumbling down.
That isn't happening any time soon.
Allieswould be far too much of a stretch.
But maybe we don't have to becompleteenemies; I have enough of those already, after all.
For several more minutes, I stumble through the drills, trying to work up the resolve to actually try what Gareth has been demanding of me all day.
“We can do this indefinitely, if you insist.” His voice is clipped and cold. His patience is running out, his strikes growing harder with each passing minute. “You won’t outlast me.”
“We’ll see,” I snap.
He aims a particularly vicious blow toward my head. I catch a flash of madness in his grey eyes; I swear he means to knock me unconscious this time. I barely avoid the strike, dancing out of reach and turning back only to find his sword flying toward me again.
I throw my arm up to protect my face, bracing for the inevitable pain.
But it doesn’t come.
I feel theforceof the impact—it's enough to send me staggering back, dropping me to one knee. But the expected burst of agony, the radiating shock through my arm…it never arrives.
Commander Gareth freezes. Studies me. The training sword is still raised in his hand, and I expect more insults, more demands.
All he says is, “That's good enough for today, I suppose.”
As he turns away, I lift my arm and look for evidence of the latest bruise I'm certain he's left.
It isn't there.
And I immediately realize why that arm doesn't hurt.
Because a small patch of my skin—right where Gareth's sword struck—is covered and protected by shimmering blue dragon scales.
Chapter Twelve
Ahellish week passes.
After that brief success where Blight shared her scales to protect me, no other proof of our bond has emerged.
It makes it even more frustrating, having seen it—knowing that it's possible for us to accomplish something—yet it's not happening. It feels like the dragon is resisting me now, as much as I've resisted her from the beginning. Like she can finally sense how deep my hatred for her kind goes, and she's punishing me for it.
I've been trying to dig up and release some of that hatred. But it's not the kind of bitterness that seven days can erase. It's a root system, at this point. Tangled and twisted into the very core of my being.
