Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I have to mate with a dragon.
Or else.
Or else my friends get kicked out of the easy-food-and-safety program. Or else I'll get booted from Fort Dallas. Or else Lord Azar is going to make my life a living hell.
I touch the scars on my face, my thoughts full of golden scales and terrifying claws that rip me apart, just like Brady.
I tell myself I won't sleep a wink, but I doze off and then Melina wakes me. She sets a tray down next to my cot, and on the tray is a bowl of breakfast gruel, a glass of water, and a fresh cloth napkin that I long to steal, just because it's so clean and pretty. The breakfast here is way better than mine—it's a corn-mixture, but sweetened with honey and so delicious I run my finger along the edge of the bowl and lick up every morsel. Melina's got fresh clothes for me, too—a militia uniform, complete with pants. No stupid dress today, which is nice. I dress quickly and give her a nod of thanks before heading out of the clinic.
Daniels is waiting outside for me, a pair of bicycles at his side. He eyes me, his gaze resting on my bandages for a long moment. His mouth tightens and then he holds out a pack of supplies. "Ready to go?"
I shake my head, worried. Out of all the guards, Daniels is nicest, if “nice” is a thing that can be assigned to the militia. He's always polite and brisk, and he keeps his distance. He doesn't abuse his position or catcall. He's…decent. And he likes Manda. "I'm supposed to go alone," I blurt out, instinctively taking a step back from the pack he holds out for me. "It's not safe for anyone to go with me. Brady—"
"I know," he says. "I'm just escorting you safely out of the fort."
Ah. He's making sure I obey. I'm sure that's Azar's idea, but whatever. I take the bag from him and peek inside. Cheesecloth-wrapped food, a canteen of water, and an emergency flare. "A flare, huh?"
"In case you're out after dark and need light," he says. "We thought matches and a candle might be problematic with your grip and the lighters can't be spared."
My “grip”? Well, that's one way of putting it. "Thanks," I say sourly.
"I'm also to tell you that the flare is for lighting purposes only. If you light it…" He pauses, then considers his words carefully. "We can't come after you for a rescue. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I wouldn't expect a rescue anyhow." At least the chagrined expression on his face helps sugar-coat things. Daniels doesn't like this any more than I do. He's just doing his job. Lashing out at him would be a dick move, so I shrug the backpack on over my shoulders and snap the buckle that goes across my waist to anchor it against me. I take one of the bikes, and then we head toward the gates.
It rained a little last night, so the streets of Fort Dallas are mucky with filth, and biking is slow. Once we get outside the gates, though, it clears up and then the cooler, slightly damp air feels nice on my face. Daniels stays at my side for two streets, then parks his bike. I park mine too, just to prolong the inevitable.
"How long will you be out, do you think?" he asks. "Just so I can report back?"
That's an impossible question. "I have no clue. I'll try to be back by sundown—alone—but if it can't be alone, I might stay out all night." I chew on my scarred lip. "Or I might not come back at all. I don't know how this will go."
"Lord Azar," he warns.
I shake my head, stopping him before he starts. "If I don't come back, it's not of my own choice. It's because I got eaten or killed." I reach up and touch the scars on my face, my thoughts full of ugly memories and sharp claws. "If I'm not back in…let's say three days…will you give my stuff to Jenny and Manda? I don't have much but I want them to have it."
He gives me a crisp nod, and for a moment, I see sympathy on his face. "Would you like for me to pass on a message to them?"
"Am I allowed?"
"Within reason."
As in, I can say stuff, but they'll only get told what Azar approves of. I'm pretty sure he doesn't want them to know the real reason behind the panty-turn-ins or what the program is really for. "Just…tell them I miss them and I love them, and if I can, I'll look for a book for Manda and some sewing stuff for Jenny."
He hesitates. "Crosswords for Manda, if you can. She loves those."
She does? Okay then. "Crosswords it is…if, you know, I can.” I might be too busy being digested by a dragon.