Page 25 of The Book of Legends
Panic seizes my lungs. “No, you can’t kill him.”
“It’s not a request,” he thunders.
I scramble to the corner when the other two move in and grip Lox by the arms, dragging him out of the cell.
“You can’t,” I yell.
I try to step in, but the one on the right looms over me, causing me to step back.
“Touch her and I’ll end you,” Lox snarls, followed by a hacking cough.
“Please,” I plead, tears running down my cheeks. “Don’t,” I cry out, not caring if my glasses are fogged up.
But it falls on deaf ears. They slide the metal gate shut just before I scramble to my feet despite the shackles when I reach it. One of them huffs, the stench of sweat and musk turning my stomach.
“Lox,” I call out between breaths as they drag him away. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, try not to die,” he croaks.
Looking around the cell, I try to make sense of it all. Why, after fifteen years of being held here, would they drag him to his death when I show up?
Hours after Lox was taken,the chill sets in. Grief grips me, taking me under like a current dragging me out to sea. My aunt’s death, Micah’s betrayal. He used to be the one to make me feel safe.
When the world was too blurry to navigate, he was there, laughing when I tripped over nothing. I’d thought that would never change. Now, my entire world has changed.
The wall gets colder on my back. The moisture seeps through my sweater.
My stomach growls. I’m so hungry it feels like I’m eating myself from the inside, but I refuse to eat whatever is on the tray. It’s some sort of bumpy brown soup.
I don’t know what time it is or how long I was unconscious. My lower back muscles ache from sitting on the hard stone floor for so long. Reaching for a small bundle of hay from the corner, I jump back in horror, hitting my back against the metal bars. A large rat runs along the wall, screeching until it disappears through a hole in the back corner, right before my glasses drop to the ground.
“Great,” I grumble, picking them up, glad they aren’t broken. “Just great.”
“Afraid of rats?” a low, deep, familiar voice says behind me, causing dread to snake down my spine.
I lift my head, trying to calm my pounding heart, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Everything sharpens, and for a second, I forget to breathe. My eyes lock onto a looming figurestanding just beyond the bars. His armor, dark and battle-worn, bears the etching of a red dragon crest gleaming against his chest plate. Tattoos curl up his strong arms, inky lines twisting into symbols I don’t understand. His face is beautiful in a way that is merciless: high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, skin bronzed like sun-warmed sand. Black shoulder-length hair falls on one side, while the other is shaved and braided. His pale, piercing gray eyes hold mine—unreadable, like a storm brewing in shadow, threatening to swallow me whole.
He leans forward, smirking with a lethal invitation. “Are you going to answer, or keep staring?”
My hands clench at his indolent tone. I try to let the retort loose from the tip of my tongue, but I can’t. He’s the reason I’m here.
There is no question; he’s the dark prince. I remember his voice when he sliced off Eryndor’s head. The sheer magnetism and power radiating off him alone solidifies it.
I finally yank my gaze from his stare. “Who are you?”
I don’t want to admit I’m terrified of rats or show him how much he intimidates me.
“I think you know exactly who I am.”
“Why am I here?”
He hums, slow and lazy, like he’s enjoying this. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
“I can’t answer because honestly, I don’t know. Trust me, I have no wish to stay.”
He chuckles, flashing me straight white teeth. Whoever created him wanted to torture the opposite sex. “You’re human.”
I roll my eyes dramatically.Here we go.“What is it with you people and humans?”
