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The dark-haired girl shakes her head. “I never met him, but Mother always spoke so highly of him as a man, even if he wasn’t a good priest. I have to believe he had a good heart.”
Odanna looks so wistful that even though it turns my stomach to do it, I force myself to say, “I’m sure he did.”
We finish our tea, and then Odanna suggests that we talk to the innkeepers about my family as they overhear gossip from all corners of Maledin. It’s a good idea, one I should have thought of, and we give our empty cups back to the stallholder and walk across the square.
It’s starting to snow, with a few flakes drifting down. My attention is on those rather than the people around us when I hear an exclamation of shock from Odanna. She’s been pulled roughly aside by two men.
At first, I think they’re trying to steal the satchel she has hanging from her shoulder, but then they turn to me. Their faces are in shadow beneath caps and their clothes are as ordinary as any traveler that I’ve seen in the city, until I see that they both have leather ties around their necks. The ties disappear inside their shirts, but I can guess that there’s a shiny triple chevron hanging from the leather.
The symbol of the Brethren.
One of them pulls a length of rope from his pocket. The other is gripping a piece of cloth and has a shapeless robe over his arm. Together they close in on me, throw the robes over my head, and one tries to gag me with the cloth while the other snatches at my wrists.
Memories of the day I was bound and gagged and nearly thrown onto a funeral pyre overwhelm me, and I scream and thrash around in their grip. I yank my wrist from the bruising hold of one strong hand, only for it to be snatched and wrenched behind my back by another. The robe slips from my head and I can see again. For a moment I think I’m going to fight my way free, and then one of the Brethren punches me in the stomach so hard that I can no longer drag breath into my lungs. Black spots dance before my eyes.
Odanna is standing a few feet away. The young woman’s face is totally blank as she stares at me. It’s not even blank with shock. Her expression has been wiped clean.
“Run, Odanna,” I manage to wheeze.
There’s an angry roar from the skies, and as cries go up from people around the square, my fear escalates to panic.
A dragon.
A moment later, there’s the thunder of wings and a deafeningwhompas an enormous black beast lands in the square. Scourge fills the space—overfills it, as one of his back legs braces atop a stone dwelling and his tail disappears over a house and down an alley.
He rears his head up and looms over me and my two assailants, and then opens his jaws and roars his fury. We all flinch as we’re struck by a wall of noise and the stench of sulfur. The Brethren attempt to drag me away from the dragon but, lightning fast, Scourge snaps at one of them with his teeth, catches his clothing, and flings him against the wall on the other side of the square. He falls to the ground in a heap and lies still.
The other assailant cries out in horror and runs to help him up, and I hear an ominous rumbling. Scourge has his jaws closed, but his red eyes are glowing brighter and brighter. Heat radiates from him and smoke curls from his nostrils.
The dragon opens his mouth and dragonfire streams out, hitting the men and enveloping them in blistering flames. I fling myself backward and cover my head with my arms, anticipating that the fire will burst all over the square and burn everyone and everything in its wake.
Scourge closes his jaws and the two men burn to death on the cobbles. Dragonfire doesn’t behave like normal fire. It seems to possess destructive properties because, in a few moments, the two men aren’t even recognizable as humans anymore, and their bones begin to crumble away.
The black dragon turns in my direction and parts his jaws. His nostrils flare as he stalks closer. The heat coming off him is incredible, and his red eyes fill with rage.
This is the dream I’ve been having.
Mynightmare.
I scramble backward, but I’m not fast enough, and then the dragon is on top of me. He stands over me, great taloned forelegs on either side of my body. This is the same stance he used when he landed on top the dead king’s funeral pyre while I was sprawled beneath him, and I realize he’s not here to eat me or burn me alive.
He’s protecting me.
I slowly lower the arm I’ve raised. Scourge’s black scales are roasting hot. I can hear a rumbling, as if more liquid fire is churning within him and he’ll unleash it if necessary.
Scourge angles his head down at me and pins me with his red eyes. Every time I’ve been this close to the black dragon, Zabriel has been with me. Strangely, I feel like he’s with me now.
Half a dozen soldiers wearing castle uniforms burst into the square, and Scourge whips his head around and roars at them, warning them to stay away. These are men and women who are used to dragons, but even they stumble backward at the sight of so many pointed teeth.
“Scourge, those are Zabriel’s soldiers. They’re not going to hurt me.”
The dragon keeps his fierce gaze on the soldiers and doesn’t back off.
One of the soldiers calls to me, “We’ll stay back and wait, Lady Isavelle. Scourge won’t let you move or let anyone else approach.”
Wait for what? Am I stuck here beneath a furious black dragon until he calms down and realizes the threat has passed?
A crowd has gathered, awestruck by the enormous beast, and every time someone gets too close, Scourge snaps his jaws at them. This can’t be doing much to help improve people’s opinions of dragons.
