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“Then I have to say no. I couldn’t possibly make such an important decision on such short notice.”
Fafnir put a hand in the pocket of his sober gray tunic. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I queued up a wish, ready to fire it off, and sent a call for Darling Hercules. Just in case I needed backup. Something pricked the back of my neck and Fafnir smiled at me gently, almost paternal, as the wish fizzled and died. Even as I wove on my feet, I tried for another wish, but couldn’t quite connect to it.
Totally fucking ambushed.
I was an idiot.
Strong arms wrapped around me from behind. I wanted to struggle as my unknown assailant lifted me, but I could no more make that happen than anything else. Whatever they’d given me somehow prevented me from exerting my will on my muscles or my magic.
Enslavement.
Inside my head, I shrieked for Darling, for Rogue, for anyone who could hear. But the plates of my skull were as impervious as they’d been back in my fully human life.
“Don’t worry,” Fafnir reassured me. “You no longer appear to be you. My associates have created a complex illusion that settled on you as we spoke. We anticipated that you might be too cowed to take your chance for freedom.”
He followed along as my abductor carried me out of the ballroom. “Too much to drink!” Fafnir told a gawker with surprising cheer. They carried me up a staircase, not the one that led to my bedchambers.
“This is for your own good,” Fafnir continued, giving me an affectionate smile. “I won’t let what happened to Cecily happen to you. You believe Rogue loves you, but we are incapable of love. He has simply discovered what you wish to hear and uses it to manipulate you. Truly, he’s exceptionally good at it. I’m told you even glimpsed him playing lover to Titania after you were safely carrying his child and yet you forgave him. He’s brainwashed you. After some time away from his dreadful influence, your mind will clear and you’ll thank me for this.”
The stairway narrowed into smaller spirals and we emerged abruptly into the crisp night air. Fafnir waved a hand at the sky and turned to face me. “Our ride is coming, and once we have you safe, the spell that binds your will can be lifted. I regret it came to this. You’ll only have to wear silver a short while. Once we’re sure of you, it will be removed. I promise.”
The cat inside me snarled, feeding on my sudden rage. Those words had been enough to trip me over the edge. Inside I laughed as the cat moved, unhampered by whatever they’d given me. If I could have spoken, I would have said it.
You won’t like me when I’m angry.
The platinum claws sliced out of my hands and the cat took possession of the body I couldn’t control. We whirled on my captor, slicing off his head with inhuman strength and speed. With a detached sense of horror and shock, I watched the decapitated body of what surely had to be an ogre topple over the edge of the tower. How the hell had they disguised that thing from us? Surelyithadn’t slithered through a chink.
The cat, uninterested in such observations, had already spun back and was stalking Fafnir, who seemed frozen in terror.
“Sorceress Gwynn?” He ventured, then screamed when the cat sliced through his midsection and laid open his face with the other paw.
Fafnir scrambled to escape, but the small area of the turret left little room. What had become of Rogue’s Black Guard on this particular tower? The cat pursued, relentless, shredding Fafnir faster than he could heal. The man had been totally melted before, by Mistress Nancy’s account. The immortality of the noble fae seemed to allow them to magically recover from anything so I didn’t fear that we’d kill him.
Not that he didn’t deserve it.
Great wings beat through the night sky and a shadow covered the moon momentarily. Now that I knew to, I recognized that slight deadening of my magical senses that meant dragon. Detecting the absence of input was much like first learning to find the blind spot in my retina, where the optic nerve passed through—once you knew where to look, it became obvious, and also easy to pinpoint again.
A good lesson, too, in being aware of your own blind spots.
The cat ignored the dragon in favor of toying with her prey. With the caring appreciation I’d learned from the heart of the earth, I began hauling her back, suggesting we get off the tower before the dragon snatched us. She didn’t like it, but reluctantly honored our new agreement, slowing her attack, remaining present enough to keep my body upright. A whoosh of air chilled me, not just from the loss of body heat, but also the draw on my magic as the dragon passed right over me. I wished I had enough control to crouch low, to avoid being snagged by the man-high talons. That wish did me no more good than the others had.
Instead, though, the dragon dropped, wheeled and hovered, one luminous eye like the lantern in a lighthouse level with my head. It surveyed me, hot breath flowing out and warming the air considerably. It shouldn’t be able to hover in place like that, lazily sweeping its tremendous membranous wings in slow arcs. Hummingbirds managed the feat through speed and a characteristic circular motion that created a vortex like helicopters use. The dragon’s wing movement should have depended on forward motion to keep aloft, much like a fixed-wing airplane. That the dragon didn’t drop from the sky meant magic.
But how did an anti-magical creature use magic?
Fafnir’s throat healed enough for him to begin sobbing and making frightened noises. Maybe I’d been distracted by the dragon’s ability to hover, but I wasn’t afraid. The cat, perhaps, with her predator’s complete lack of fear. Or something else.
Now you lay claim to both of those things.
Fafnir had said that earlier, though surely this was the “ride” he’d mentioned. Yet, the dragon hovered, appearing to patiently await my instructions.
Fafnir’s cries faded into a hiss and he shifted, a large gray snake—a constrictor, by the look of it—formed from his body. It had happened this way to Falcon, too, when I’d injured him. Almost like a protective instinct. Less explosively powerful than my or Rogue’s spirits. Still unable to move, I helplessly watched him slither away.
Ah, well. Not like I could have turned him over to the cops or anything.
The dragon tilted its great head, examining me. Then it glided closer, the breath scorching. I braced myself—mentally, because I could do nothing more—and it stretched its neck, delicately touching my chest with its snout.
