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The eggs sit there, glowing with rich color in the sunlight.
“Fuck all of this,” I whisper. “Oh, and don’t you dare say that word until you’re older, you understand me? It’s only appropriate for adults—for primes.”
A dark shadow obliterates the sun for a moment, and a large winged shape lands in the mouth of the cave.
I sit up, squinting. “You’re back already?”
But the shape moving toward the nest isn’t Kyreagan. It’s a great stone-colored dragon whose huge wings bear countless scars.
“Greetings, Princess.” There’s menace in the low rumble of his voice. “I am Fortunix.”
Fortunix. The dragon who used plague-ridden blood-beetles to wipe out prey and force his clan to ally with Vohrain. If that’s true, he’s as merciless and vengeful as they come. And I’m the Crown Princess of the kingdom he hated.
He spots the two eggs, but at the same moment, I move forward in the nest, putting my body between him and them. It’s instinctive—I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I’m there, facing him. Protecting them.
Fortunix snorts. “Abominations. Our whole clan has been polluted. Congratulations, Princess—your family is responsible for the extinction of dragonkind. You must be so proud.”
“I’m not,” I reply. “And dragons aren’t extinct, they’re just going to be different from now on.”
“Ruined,” he snarls through his spiked muzzle, pacing forward on giant, ponderous claws. “Ruined because of you, your mother, her sorcerer, and your whole fucking kingdom.”
He’s coarsely, ruggedly built, a fearsome monster that I could never hope to outrun or outmatch. I shouldn’t argue with him, but I can’t help saying, “You played a role in this, too. You spread the plague and forced your clan so close to starvation that they had to involve themselves in a mainland war. That’s what started all this.”
The ridges of the dragon’s craggy brow sink lower, giving his eyes a cruel look. “So Kyreagan knows, then. I smelled him in my cave—I thought he might have figured it out, so I made myself scarce. I hid in a cavern Kyreagan doesn’t know about, connected to an underground river. Not a bad place to weather a storm. Lots of eels, good eating. It’s one of my little secrets—like my arrangement with the King of Vohrain.”
Dread crawls up my spine and sticks in my throat, choking me. “What kind of arrangement?”
“One that gets you out of Kyreagan’s way and ends the evil of your human influence over him. I love these two princes like they’re my own hatchlings, but sometimes you have to guide the ones you love. They take the wrong wind-path, and you have to push them into the right one. Sometimes you might have to give them a good swat to correct their behavior. Look what a mess they’ve made so far! Little wormy humans in our nests, shitting out half-breed, undersized eggs?” He lowers his boulderlike muzzle toward me. “I can’t believe Kyreagan lowered himself to fucking you. I suppose he couldn’t help it, with the mating heat and all. But you’re done here, little girl. I’m taking you to your new home.”
My voice trembles. “The King of Vohrain will do terrible things to me.”
“Exactly.” Fortunix bares his teeth in a dragonesque grin. “I look forward to hearing tales of how he debases you.”
I glance around, desperate for anything that might help me fight him. But all I have is my simple white dress, and there’s nothing within arm’s reach besides the two eggs and the blankets.
“Keep quiet, and maybe I won’t knock you out for the flight,” Fortunix says. “Before we go, I’ll be sticking a claw into each of these eggs.”
“No!” I gasp out. “Please—you say you love Kyreagan. If you destroy these eggs, it will break his heart. Listen, they might not even hatch… please, please leave them alone. I’ll go with you quietly. I won’t scream, I won’t call for help, and I won’t struggle.”
Fortunix considers me for a moment. “It would be a pity if I accidentally killed you while trying to quiet you. I’ve been promised a significant reward for delivering you safely. Very well, worm. You stay quiet, and I’ll leave the abominations alone.”
“Agreed.” I crawl forward, out of the nest.
Fortunix grasps me with a big, scaly front claw, and without giving me time to prepare myself for flight, he heaves his bulk out of the cave and into the air. Once we’re off the ledge, he closes the other front claw around my body.
The pounding of his great wings nearly deafens me, and after so many days in the dark, the sun is painfully bright. I shut my eyes, holding back a scream as Fortunix rises higher and higher with labored wingbeats. The breeze whips my hair against my face.
I could break my word and shriek with all my might. A friendly dragon might hear me. But before he could come to my aid, Fortunix would dive back down to the cave and crush the two eggs. He looks as if he’s made of granite—I doubt one dragon alone could stop him.
It’s not worth the risk. So I stay quiet, and I force my eyes open a crack.
Blue sky. No sign of the storm anywhere, which is odd—I should be able to spot it moving back out to sea, but it’s just… gone. Strange.
I spot a few dragons, tiny and far away, wheeling among the mountain peaks of Ouroskelle. Is one of them Kyreagan, or is he in some cave, checking on the others? What will he do when he finds me gone? Will he assume I left of my own free will? I was planning to leave, and he knows it. Maybe he’ll think I got a ride to the mainland from one of the other dragons. Maybe he won’t come after me. After all, he has what he needs—the two beautiful eggs we made together.
He can’t follow me, even if he wants to. He has to remain on Ouroskelle and deal with the aftermath of the storm. He has to look after our eggs, survey the new islands, and feed the hatchlings. There will be no time for chasing after an annoying princess.
Part of me knows I’m not giving him enough credit, that I’m being overly dramatic—but I’m exhausted, in body and mind, weary from my whirlwind pregnancy, sore from the birth and from the claws roughly clutching my body. I’m being kidnapped, again. I deserve to be as dramatic as I fucking please.
I survived my first kidnapping—the terror, the uncertainty, the deprivation. Granted, I’m now being delivered to someone far worse than Kyreagan—but I’ll be damned if I let the King of Vohrain break me. I’ll watch, and I’ll scheme, and I’ll survive until I can manage to escape.
This is not the end. I’m far too stubborn for that.
