Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Do they think I'm somehow sabotaging the fort? Am I in danger of being kicked out? Living in the fort isn't fun, but a woman alone in the scavenge lands won't last five minutes.
Uneasy, I bite my lip as Rachel shakes her head at Azar. "We need more than just an accusation. We need a name."
"I don't know their names," the lord bites out. "They are nothing to me."
"Then why do you care if you lose one?" Rachel snaps back.
I want to tell them to stop arguing so I can think. I need to remember what Mhal said. Something about waking up? And how he couldn't see clearly other than me? Is that because someone else is in his mind? Is Azar in his mind? For some reason, I thought the dragons that guard the city were like guard dogs, trained to do a task. But what if they're people?
If that's the case, are they here of their own free will?
I don't understand, and the longer this goes on, the more questions I have.
I glance over at Rachel, and at the dragon-man that stands behind her. He's a person. Granted, he looks like no person I've ever seen. He's got wild eyes that swirl between yellow and black. He's got horns and claws and a scaly skin pattern, and his hair sticks out in ways no human hair does. But he's a person, and Rachel loves him. She talks to him, though I've never seen it. She says his name is Jurik.
Of course he's a person.
And if he is, the other dragons are, too. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. They're not trained dogs up on the walls. They're slaves with their minds stolen, and I've been sitting happily in the program, eating Azar's cornbread and never thinking beyond my nose. Oh my god. I'm complicit in this. I press my fingers to my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
Is…is Mhal one of his mind-slaves, then? Is that why he left my dreams when I mentioned Azar?
Oh god.
What do I do? I wasn't trying to bring down the fort. I just said hello to a friend in my dreams. But if I'm right and Mhal is a slave to Azar, I don't want any part of this. I can't be part of this.
How do I get free without getting myself killed? If I bail out right now, they'll suspect me. Even as I bite back a whimper of fear, I remember my dream.
Mhal whispering in my ear. Warmth.
Claws at my throat.
Oh god. I'm such an idiot. How did I not see this before? Somehow a dragon is in my dreams.
"I worked very hard to capture these drakoni," Azar says in a cold, seething voice.
He glares at Rachel as if he hates her, but she looks unafraid. The dragon at her side—Jurik—has a hand on her shoulder in a way that seems less like ownership and more like support. Like he's going to tear anyone apart that so much as looks at her the wrong way.
Azar paces in the room. "I worked hard to capture each and every one of them. I work hard every day, keeping this fort safe. I work to protect the people here. I feed them. I clothe them. And what do I get in return? Betrayal." He turns a vicious look towards us, and I feel as if he's staring right at me somehow.
Knowing my secrets. Knowing my dreams. Did Mhal tell him? Would Mhal tell him?
"I should throw all of you out of the fort," Azar snarls, still ranting. "Ungrateful, useless, tiresome—"
"Excuse me," says a voice behind us. The crowd parts, and I step aside, along with the others, to let someone through. It's a black woman, with beautiful dark skin, perfect hair, and a long, flowing dress in baby pink that is completely inappropriate for fort life. She looks like a princess from a fairy tale, and we all know exactly who it is—Melina, the medic of Fort Dallas and lately Lord Azar's consort.
She glides toward him, her expression serene and calm, and when she extends a hand out to him, he takes it. His expression changes from menacing to petulant, and she leans in and speaks to him in a low voice. They keep talking, Melina's tone soft and easy, Azar's angry and strident. But eventually, he sighs, takes her hand and tucks it into his arm, and then turns to look at those of us gathered in front of him once more.
"I am not mad," he says, clearly lying. It's obvious in how difficult it was for him to say those small words. "I simply wish to know which one of you is seducing my dragon out from under my nose."
Melina elbows him, her smile never fading from her face.
"You're supposed to recruit other dragons, not the ones I already have," he adds in a peevish tone.