Page 17 of King of Fire and Scales

He tensed his muscles and parted his mouth. The smoke was still stirring in his throat, blistering and acute. He bit against the rubbery tail of his enemy, who let out a surprised yowl.

When Zendel glanced back with furious agitation, Drake made his move.

He powered upward, applying both his magnificent speed and agility to swat his tail between the other’s eyes. It was a cheap shot, but aggravation was the goal. Aggravation muddied the mind.

It did the trick. Zendel chomped at the king midair, a harsh grunt escaping his searing lips. He scathed the king along his throat, but it didn’t matter. It gave Drake time to sink his fangs into his foe's nape and tear at the armored flesh.

Zendel wailed. At the same time, he dropped Thalia from his grasp. With a rusty taste of blood in his mouth, Drake sailed toward her plummeting, lifeless body.

He captured her easily in his claws, settling her against his chest like a resting lamb. He heard the wretched sound of gurgling before Zendel himself took his final breath.

His heavy body plunged toward the earth as Drake held his mate against his breast. The thunderous crash made the ground quiver with an unsettling quake.

But the king didn’t care. He had Thalia, and the next stop was the castle.

Hold on, my darling, hold on.

NINE

THALIA

Thalia’s consciousness swam up from the darkness steadily. It was the scent in the room that first ignited her senses, a soft rose and lavender infusion. She became aware soon after that she was lying in a strange bed, one that was far more pleasant than the one she had to curl up on in the village.

She shifted in the bed, her mouth dry and achy. She groaned and tried to sit up, though the reasoning for it was distant and detached.

Someone familiar raced to her side. They gave her cheek a tender caress.

“It’s okay, Thalia. You are safe. You are in the castle. Everything is okay.”

The voice lilted with a hypnotic sweetness. When the Creation Sorceress fluttered her eyes open, Sorcha was crouched by the bed, her eyes bright and inviting.

“That’s a good girl,” she said, smiling.

“I’ll tell the king she’s awake.”

Another woman rushed out of the room. Thalia darted her head around, frazzled for a moment by the strange and luxurious decor.

“Wait…where…” she croaked, her throat sore. “Where is my father?”

“He is safe, sweetheart,” Sorcha crooned, continuing to caress Thalia’s cheek with the affection of a lover. “He’s asleep in one of the guest rooms. All is well.”

Sorcha’s entrancing voice was convincing, but Evanth hadn’t been out of Thalia’s sight for longer than a few minutes in nearly a decade. The dread of him having fallen or tripped spun like clockwork in her panicked chest. “What happened?”

Sorcha rose to her feet as she answered and picked up a jug of water on the bedside table. She poured it into a glass and spoke, choosing her words prudently and wisely.

“I’m sure the king has informed you of the current political climate in our region. He has enemies, ones of our kind, and they are seeking you out as well. Last night they located us, and you were taken by a dragon named Zendel.”

Sorcha set the water jug down, then bent over, some of her bosom spilling forward in her strained dress. She held the glass to Thalia’s lips.

“Not too fast,” Sorcha whispered. “Just take a little at a time.”

Thalia tried to do as she proposed, but she was far too parched and tense. She finished off the glass, and Sorcha took it, continuing her account of the night’s misfortune.

“Thankfully, the king was able to rescue you, and his men defended the inn from the other perpetrators. Once we obtained your father and your things, we flew here.”

Thalia was licking her lips, eyeing the jug again.

“Why didn’t we just fly here in the first place?”

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