Page 124 of Hoarded By the Dragon

My lip trembles when the tip of his snout brushes against my stomach. Relief spreads through me at the contact.

“Please come back,” I whisper. I place my hand below his flaring nostril. His skin feels like marble under the sun—sharp and hot, but not enough to burn.

The great beast rears back and sneezes as if I’m no more than a dandelion seed.

I hiccup, and my vision blurs as tears fill my eyes. The energy, the anger, and the frustration leave me all at once and I start to shiver.

The fear I’ve tried to ignore stabs me and leaves panic in its wake.

I don’t know how to fix this, but if I don’t fix this, Kalos is going to die. The tears in my eyes start to fall. The magic around us is suffocating in its thickness, curling around me like hungry vines.

“Kalos, please come back.” My throat is thick, and I try to swallow. The magic starts to sting my eyes even with my torrent of tears. “I need you.”

The dragon huffs in some sort of frustration. His snout comes back to me again, nudging me away. I stumble but remain upright, my arms cutting through the air. I freeze at the sensation of thick power encroaching on us like a living animal circling prey.

What the hell is happening?

The dark truth of the situation surfaces quickly. I’d easily passed through the magic hanging in the air before because itletme.

Kalos explained once that fae magic has a mind of its own, dying on this plane without conduits or spells to hold it together. Dragons are pure magic. It’s trying to hold off its fading byeatingKalos.

I swipe my hands over the dragon’s heated scales, trying to wave away the invisible vines ensnaring him. Every inch I reach is thick with humming energy. It takes effort I’ve never had to expend before to clear the magic away.

Focus stifles my fear.

“You have to get away,” I say, hoping he’s present enough to understand my words. “The gate magic is trying to devour you somehow. It must be keeping you in this state.”

Poisoning his mind to keep him if not docile then distracted. He makes a whining sound but doesn’t move. As if hecan’tmove.

His large gold eyes flicker as sweat breaks out all over my body. Each of my movements over what I can reach of his head is slower than the last.

“Kalos!” I cry out, my limbs getting heavier. “Go! Fly!”

He rumbles under my hands, my blinking slow, eyelids heavy. I move to pull away more of the insidious wisps of magic around him, but freeze. My feet ignore my mental commands to move.

I’m too tired.

The dragon tries to nudge me away again, but the magic I’ve cleared away from him has wrapped around my middle.

Around our daughter.

I can’t move, can’t flee through the sear of energy around me. My ability to slide through magic, to clear it away like I’d been doing for Kalos, is drained. I’ve reached the end of the skill I’ve taken for granted and am unable to protect the baby dragon I carry from the voracious, ancient thing trying to devour her.

I’m helpless as it sinks its teeth in.

I scream.

The world closes in, wrapping my body and squeezing. I gasp in surprise that it’s a giant clawed hand rather than the crush of magic. There’s a clap of air as giant wings beat, and we’re rocketing upward. The fae magic wrapping around us stretches, pulling painfully, trying to keep us near the ruins of its home before finally shattering.

The ricochet of sensation has my body tensing as if to retch. Pain zings over my nerves even as air whistles around us. The strength of the wind fills my eyes with tears when I try to open them so I keep them closed. The pain starts to numb, first my skin from the cold, then my limbs with a deep weariness.

I lose track of what’s happening, flirting with unconsciousness in starts and stops. I don’t know how long we’re in the air. My body doesn’t shiver even though cold stabs me.

The next sensation is a surface at my back. I can’tfeelanything distinct about it, but my body knows.

The scent of cinnamon and the taste of wildfire, the bounce of the cushions before I’m pulled into human-shaped arms. I’mhome. In our bed.

After a few attempts, I succeed in blinking my crusted eyes open. The burn of light is barely anything compared to mental screeching pain of my body. I’ve never overspent magic, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be like this.

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