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“Sure I can. It has my signature on it. You can’t take this away from me. I am all powerful!”
Cale chimed in, “You’re all mad if you think this is a good thing. How many of your other spells have gone awry?”
“Awry is a strong word. Can we say: how many of my spells have resulted in happy endings? No, wait, happy accidents?”
“Portia,” Cale continued gravely. “What about your protection spell over this kingdom? How can we know if it’s secure?”
Suddenly, a scream erupted from the great hall. Everyone whipped around as a delicate Faieara stumbled into the room in a panic. “Kayadon! Kayadon are coming!”
A heartbeat of stunned disbelief froze the room. Then chaos erupted.
6
The throne room erupted in a flurry of hysteria. Screeching Faieara raced for one of two exits at the opposite end of the room, tearing and crawling over each other to escape. June was alarmed, her body instinctively wanting to succumb to the display of panic for no other reason than survivor’s instinct, but Tristan and the others remained where they were, and because she was with them, so did she.
Eyes morphing to the color or red-hot lava, Cale hollered. “Kyra, take the women to the dungeon. Lock yourselves in.” As he spoke, June spotted a pair of lengthening fangs behind his lips. The sight had her heart leaping in her chest.What the hell is he?
“Ha!” Portia countered, conjuring a ball of electric flame. “You lock yourself in.”
June gaped at the show of honest-to-god power. Was this magic?
Kyra addressed the terrorized Faieara, bottlenecking at every exit. “Everyone, listen to me! Remain calm. We will handle this.” The Faieara settled slightly, looking to their queen with hope, though pure dread remained etched in many of their expressions. Kyra grabbed the woman who’d started the panic. “Where are they?”
June spotted them first, slipping into the room through the main entrance: three vile, grotesque creatures with milky dead eyes and putrid gray skin that was tight against stringy muscles. Gripped in their gnarled hands were weapons that looked like rifles but were definitely not of Earth.
As they raised their weapons, June cried out in warning. “Tristan!”
Tristan was still holding her. At her outcry, he spun them around, seeking the threat.
Cale snarled and leapt at one of the Kayadon. The creature’s gun fired, hitting him in the shoulder, but it didn’t stop him from tackling the creature and ripping its throat out with his…claws.
I’m going to retch.
Portia hurled her ball of blue fire and an explosion of flame licked up one wall, catching one of the Kayadon in the blast. He lit up like a Griswold Christmas tree.
Belinda and Orik ushered Edel away. Kyra’s skin began to glow as she chanted, “Not now. Keep it together. Keep it together” while Tristan’s entire body began to vibrate with an intensity that had June’s teeth chattering.
“Stand back,” Tristan snapped at her, and then shoved her away. She fell to the ground mere feet from him, her gaze trapped by the transformation that was taking place. His skin thickened and grew darker, harder. His muscles bulged, growing bigger and bigger, deforming in a way that her mind couldn’t comprehend. Then suddenly his entire body exploded outward.
Too close to the action, what she would later realize was a wing slammed into her and sent her hurtling across the room. She landed on her side with a sickening crunch, but didn’t stop there. Her momentum sent her into the wall with a nauseating flood of pain. She might have blacked out for a moment, but mentally resurfaced to the hellish sounds of a mighty roar. Head swimming, she forced her eyes open.
A dragon now stood in Tristan’s place, nearly as tall as the room itself.
The dragon let out another vicious roar and the sound, sonic and deafening, pained her ears to the point that she worried one of her eardrums had ruptured. Then, with bared teeth and snapping jaws, the dragon attacked the final Kayadon, lifting it in its razor-lined mouth and thrashing it around the room like a rag-doll and slamming it against the floor, only to pick it back up to repeat the assault. The cry that ripped form the Kayadon’s throat was the wail of a being who knew death was imminent and was helpless prevent it. And even when the other two Kayadon had been dispatched and the creature in the dragon’s violent grip went quiet, the dragon continued to thrash and tear at flesh, shredding the carcass with malevolent glee.
At some point, the room had emptied but for the dragon and those who had fought. June pulled herself up on shaky feet. As she did, she registered the familiar pain of a dislocated shoulder and subsequent bruises from her brutal flight. Meanwhile, the dragon continued its abuse of the now deformed remains.
She didn’t know if it was the head wound or the maddening display of violence, but she jeered at the dragon, “You think you got it?”
The dragon dropped the carcass with a sickening splat, licked its lips clean, and then brought its great snout down to her level. Her eyes locked with wild gray irises the size of her head.
She gasped.
Tristan’s eyes.
She barely breathed as the creature studied her, its hot breath gusting in and out all around her.
“Pretty sure it’s dead, big guy. Good job,” she muttered nervously, wincing at the fresh pain sizzling up her arm.
