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She gestures at us. "Then go on."
"Why do I always feel as if I've lost against you even when I've won?" Azar asks in a bitter voice. He shakes his head and steps forward, past Melina, and turns his face toward the city gates. His eyes close, and a moment later, the already dark skies turn black.
Wind blasts my face, and the breeze is so strong I nearly lose the blanket I have wrapped around my shoulders. Others stagger and cry out. My head pounds.
"Remain where you are!" one of the guards cries. "If you run, you will be shot!"
"No they won't," Melina retorts, taking a step forward in protest. "Don't you dare fucking threaten that! Azar, tell them."
Azar doesn't respond, though. I shield my eyes from the flying dirt and the wind and peer in his direction. His eyes are still closed, his pale body bowed as if it's taking everything for him to concentrate. A dragon lands directly in front of him. And another. Another.
The ground is suddenly full of dragons.
This is the closest I've been to them, and my heart pounds with terror.
Dragons were just a silly legend back when I was a child. They belonged only in stories about knights and princesses, were usually gaily colored green or purple, and were very much not real, just like unicorns and goblins. Then the Rift came, and dragons flew forth from the broken skies and burned the world. They're full of madness, these dragons. They cannot be reasoned with. As big as airplanes and ruthless as sharks, the dragons destroy everything they come across. Humanity's been forced to hide out in flame-resistant buildings made of concrete or cover their houses with sheets of metal that protect from the worst of the flames. Wooden homes are death traps. Crops must be hidden and protected from dragon fire, along with livestock.
And these dragons? Aren't the fat, jolly things of cartoons.
My heart hammering in my throat, I stare at the dragon that's practically nose to nose with Azar. The head's as big as a compact car, the plate-sized eyes a blank gray. The muzzle of the thing has a tendril of smoke curling from it, as if it's just waiting for the right moment to burn this whole place to the fucking ground. Sharp, terrifying teeth stick out of the long, scaly muzzle, and I'm reminded of crocodiles.
The one in front of Azar flutters its wings and stretches them before folding them back against his long body. Something crashes in the distance, and then the tail glides forward over the ground, swishing.
Another dragon lands next to him. This one has a scar on his muzzle, just below a nostril, and one tooth is broken at the tip. His flanks are scarred in parallel rows, as if he's been raked with claws in the past, and it only adds to the menacing air. For some reason, I can't stop staring at that dragon. He terrifies me, but the way he holds his head makes me pause. Even though his eyes are blank, he seems…arrogant.
If Mhal is a dragon, he's this one.
The others settle in around us, squeezing in between houses and perching on roofs. We've never been this close to the dragons before, and some of the girls are openly crying in terror. At my side, Manda's breath is coming in shallow, anxious panting. I should be the same—one breath of fire and we're all burnt to a crisp.
For some reason, though, I'm not afraid. Azar doesn't want us dead. We're too useful to him alive.
Melina walks up to Azar's side, apparently unafraid as well. She touches his arm. "Well?"
"I am trying," he snaps. "It is not easy."
"Try harder or let everyone go inside," she retorts, unafraid of his bad mood.
Azar glares at her, and then storms toward the group of huddled women in the panty program. He scans faces, searching for something, and then pauses in front of Manda. My heart sinks as he heads right for her.
He draws his hand back and slaps Manda across the face.
The harsh crack reverberates in the streets. She lets out a yelp of surprise, dropping to the ground. Someone shrieks in surprise behind us, and I automatically reach for my friend.
"Do NOT," Azar bellows, pointing at me.
I freeze, eyes wide.
"No touching," one of the guards says. It's Daniels, and he moves to step in between us. I glare at him, close to tears. How can he let Azar do this to the woman he loves? He looks helpless and frustrated, but I don't care. How could he let that happen? Manda's done nothing wrong. I clench my fists at my side, watching as Manda gets back to her feet. Her hand is on her cheek, and there's a bright red mark on her face where he struck her.
