Page 52 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

“These are good.” Rosalie holds out a plate covered in neon green blobs. “Try some,” she exhorts.

“They look like snot,” I respond. “And I’m not hungry.”

“Look, perhaps he won’t go mad since you…you know.” Maggie makes a circle with her thumb and forefinger and shoves her other forefinger through it in a sawing motion.

“I’m still waiting for all the gory details.” Scarlett sits cross-legged, a bowl of what looks almost like popcorn on her lap. “Does he become a dragon when he….” She points at what Maggie is doing. “Oh! Or does he breathe fire?” Her eyes are huge.

“Seriously?” I raise my eyebrows. “Where the hell did we get you from?”

“She’s from Cumbria,” Rosalie groans. “They’re all backward there, you know, yokels.”

“We are not!” Scarlett feigns outrage. “I think if we’re at risk of being dragon fodder, we all need to know the details.”

“You’re basically just a pervert, aren’t you, Scarlett?” Maggie says.

“Oh, and you weren’t listening with intent…” Scarlett retorts.

“Fine! Fine.” I hold up my hands in defeat. “If you want all the details, I’ll give them.”

“Ugh.” Lydia stands up. “I’ll give it a miss if you don’t mind.”

“Sit down,” I call at her. “I wasn’t really going to.”

Scarlett tuts.

“No, Ireallywasn’t going to tell you anything.” I glare at her. “Other than if it happens to you”—and yet again I hold my hands up to stop any shouts of dissent—“and I’m not saying it will, you will be in for a pleasant surprise.”

Maggie throws her head back and lets out a groan.

“Pleaaaase! Just one little detail and I promise we’ll all shut up,” Scarlett says.

“Two words,” I say, not breaking eye contact with Rosalie. “Forked. Tongue.”

“Oh lord,” Rosalie says quietly.

“Oh lord, indeed,” Maggie adds with a whistle.

The room is quiet for several long seconds as my friends digest this information.

“But is there flame?” Scarlett asks, breaking the silence.

She’s hit by at least three cushions from all directions, shrieking with laughter as Maggie and Rosalie continue to bombard her.

“She needs an off switch,” Lydia grumbles, sitting down next to me.

“How are you doing?” I ask her. “Rosalie and I had a while to get used to being abducted and everything.”

“Oh, I got used to it,” Lydia says darkly. “And when they were done, I was folded into a box. The next thing I know, I’m in the middle of a weird alien forest with this lot.”

“That sounds utterly shit.” I’m not entirely sure if Lydia will want me to touch her, so I don’t. “The box part, not necessarily being stuck in a trap with Rosalie.”

A sudden, unexpected smile flits over Lydia’s face before it’s gone in an instant.

“It was shit. But it is what it is. I can’t dwell on it, not really.”

“Darax is trying to find out how you, Maggie, and Scarlett got here. Rosalie managed to fire herself out of the ship we were on in an escape pod, but again, how she ended up in the trap, we don’t know, and that’s what Darax wants to find out.” I give up not being touchy and take hold of Lydia’s hand. “He says we’re safe here and I believe him.”

She studies my face carefully but doesn’t try to retrieve her hand.

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