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“My son,” moaned the king. “My heir.”
The liege cleared his throat. “Sire. My sincerest apologies for bothering you in this most tragic hour.”
“What do you want?” roared the dragon king, turning on his subject, almost knocking him over. “Can’t you see I’m grieving?”
The pit in my stomach deepened. We were so screwed.
“We found this in one of the shifter’s bedchambers.” The liege held out the bloodied dagger.
The queen gasped and buried her head in her nearest son’s embrace.
The king’s hands shook as he took the weapon. When a drop of congealed blood dripped onto his skin, he released the blade, and it clamored on the stone at his feet.
“The blade was planted, sire.” Shadow’s protests fell on deaf ears.
“You will pay for what you did to my son,” said the king, his chest glowing with fire, his form growing by several inches.
Grief was a bitter emotion that had stolen away his rational thinking. I recognized that same insanity in myself. I’d spent many moon cycles planning my stepmother’s death. In the king’s case, the loss of his sanity led him to strip off his scaled cape, to toss it—along with the rest of his clothing—onto the floor. No one in the throne room seemed to bat an eyelid at the naked, wrinkled king before them.
The soldiers formed a circle around us, aiming their spears at us so we couldn’t escape.
Ice hardened in my chest.
Scales sprouted across the king’s front and face. His limbs cracked as they lengthened. Giant wings erupted from his arms. Claws sprang from his hands.
I couldn’t hear a thing over the quickening thud of my heart.
Shadow grabbed my upper arm. “Stay behind me.”
Was he kidding? No way. If we were going to die, we’d die together.
Phantom came up beside me, and we exchanged a desperate look.
Flare finished the line by landing alongside Shadow. “We could really use some of your hoodoo right now, sweetheart.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said. “I can’t control it.”
By now, the king towered over us, stretching as tall as a two-story manor and about fifty feet long. He let out a long, menacing growl, the ground quaking as he stomped toward us. At full height, with his neck straight, he hit the ceiling, so he had to hunch over.
The circle of soldiers widened, allowing the king his space for whatever he had planned. Obviously, they’d done this before to eliminate a threat.
My pulse streamed hard in my veins, as if trying to clear the ice from them.
Flare broke the line, transforming into his panther form.
Was he mad? What was he doing? Attempting to take on a dragon all by himself? The king, nonetheless! Only a miracle was getting us out of here, not any valiant effort from Flare.
Fur all fuzzed, Flare bounced across the room, charging the king. In response, the dragon swept his tail over the floor, but Flare leaped over it. Up he scaled, over the king’s back in a matter of a few leaping vaults.
Several of the soldiers stepped inside the circle, their spears wavering as if they’d never seen someone get the better of their king.
“Formation!” the captain yelled, and they fell back into line.
The rattling of my heart escalated.
Smoke churned out of the king’s nose as he flicked his body, trying to shake the panther loose. Flare dug his claws in, holding on, slipping only a few inches. The king roared so loudly that a burst of air from his lungs knocked me backward, clattering everything in the throne room…my bones included.
Suddenly, Phantom retreated into his shifter form and lunged at the king, too. Stupid fool! They were going to get themselves killed.
