Page 233 of Golden Queen

Franca looked up and saw sleek, black scales on a long, graceful body crossing overhead. The beast angled toward the ground, wings still spread as it barreled into the Wyvern.

The shockwave of the dragon’s landing vibrated the world as a fountain of dirt rose up under its body.

It clamped its much larger mouth around the wyvern's neck and shook.

The wyvern’s rider was flung from the saddle to land with a thud. The sound of tearing flesh made bile rise in Franca’s throat as the wyvern’s body bucked wildly, trying to free itself from the dragon’s massive jaws.

The dragon adjusted its bite and severed the Wyvern's head. The creature whipped its empty neck back once more, black blood streaming, and then fell into the godsgrass.

The dragon turned toward what Franca suddenly registered as a battle happening all around her.

More dragons were diving down from the sky, meeting wyverns on the battlefield and in the air.

Huge streams of fire erupted across the fields, burning the army to cinders.

Franca’s hands clutched Etreyiu's long mane tightly as she watched the dragon riders tear into the army of thousands, leaving nothing behind them but blood and ash—all in the span of a few minutes.

And then the black dragon who’d killed the wyvern returned from where it had been fighting on the killing field with the others. It landed just in front of her, its body slick with blood.

A stream of darkness rolled down its side and over the ground as its tall rider strode across the clearing.

Franca did not at first recognize him, so darkly cloaked in shadows. They swirled around him, seeming to stream off his skin as he stalked across the godsgrass, now flattened by the tread of so many boots.

When he reached her, Franca saw his face through the swirling mass of shadows, fierce and beautiful, dark and deadly—Aelia's dragon rider.

The queen had not been hard to read—at least not to one who knew her as well as Franca did. She knew from that very first meeting in the receiving chamber that Aelia already knew the dark prince of Nightfall—and that the man held her heart in the palm of his hand.

Tatana had confirmed it after much needling, and Franca's heart had broken for her queen when she learned of the betrothal contract.

She had never breathed a word of it to her proud Aelia. It would not have been well-received in someone like her who took pity or sympathy as a personal insult to her strength of character.

Aelia's dragon rider approached Etreyiu.

Franca laid a hand on his side, sure the horse would balk at this dark predator’s approach.

But the dragon rider met the Artaxian stallion, reaching up to lay a hand on the horse’s long face as he leaned his head in.

Dark lord and pale Artaxian stood together head-to-head for a long moment that made her heart ache for what her queen had been forced to give up.

Amon Aldur looked up at Franca. "What are you doing with Aelia of Windemere's horse, girl?"