He sat up on his haunches and stretched out his wings. Courtiers fled from his sides to get out of the way of the fifty-foot spread. “Your Majesty, I’m here for my gold.”
Maeve’s head whipped up. “Atavantador? What makes you think you can come in here and demand gold from me? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
The crowd had pressed away from the two of them and now the front of the room was empty, except for the queen and her prisoner. He moved forward. And deepened his voice, letting a little of the magic that formed him through. “I am due my tithe—are you refusing to pay?” His voice, amplified by the hollow space in his rib cage, vibrated the room. Above his head, the crystal chandeliers chimed in response, swinging dangerously on their chains.
The queen lifted her chin and stared him in the eye. “I give you gold and silver year after year and what do you do for me? Do you go out and raze a few villages to keep them in fear of me? No. Do you fly south and sear the trees to remind the dwellers of the piney woods that I am not to be ignored? No. You do none of these things. You sit in that empty gnome palace and mope.”
Inside his belly, the cold fire heated as the frustration and rage he’d been holding back for years set it burning.
“I am sworn to defend the Winter Court. You have sworn to tithe me my due in gold and silver. If we are done with our bargain than I am no longer required to hold back from anything that I wish to do.”
“And what is it that you wish to do? Hmm?”
She was so small and confident, standing in front of him. So secure in her power. Did she really think she was more powerful than he was. He lowered his head to her level and sniffed. What in Drago’s name?
She was more powerful than she’d been last year. How could that be? She squandered her magic, building wall after wall and fusing it with power, feeding the lowly men of her court so they would be stronger. He looked around. Standing on the balcony overlooking the courtroom were the Queen’s Guard. Former Winter Kings that had been brought here as weak villagers with little Gift and fed more and more over the years. He’d never really wondered how she did it, how she could feed all of these boys turned into men, and still retain her power. But now, he wondered: how could she do all of this, build more and more of the palace, and actually grow stronger?
“Well?” She turned away from him, sauntered back to the dais and climbed the stairs. “You come in here like you’re something special, like you deserve more than your fair share. Well, I’ll tell you what you can do—take that thing as your tithe.” She sank into her throne and pointed at the quavering villager on the floor.
“What in hell am I supposed to do with her?”
“Drain her of what little power she has. Eat her empty husk. I don’t care. Since she apparently isn’t important enough to her beloved brother, I am denied my revenge. She’s useless to me, but I swore to kill her. She might as well serve a purpose.” She threw back her head and laughed. “Kill two birds with one stone. Get it?”
He did. And the joke wasn’t funny. Dragons were not birds. They were dangerous creatures. He wouldn’t kill the queen today. He couldn’t. He’d sworn to protect the Winter Court, and right now, she was the Winter Court. She’d tied her Gift into it. If he unfocused and looked, strands of her magic went right into the walls. If she died, the entire palace would go with her. This was bad, very bad. The very thing he’d sworn his life to protect was buried under this palace. There was no way he would endanger it, not to take out one spoiled queen.
And besides, he had to find out how she was gaining this power. While she wasn’t strong enough to face him now, not even with the entire court backing her up, if this kept up, one day she might be. But to be handed this bundle of wet rags as his tithe? No, he couldn’t accept it.
“You insult me.” He rose up on his hind legs and batted his wings. Cold air flowed over the room, and the entire court shivered.
“You have the balls to walk in here and demand a tithe that you haven’t even earned? You insult me, dragon. Take her and be satisfied.”
“She is not the equivalent of my swearing fealty.”
Maeve motioned to one of the lords behind her and he ran up to her. She whispered in his ear. The lord went behind the throne where three bags sat. The bitch. She had remembered today was the day and the three bags were his due. But the man only picked up one of the bags and brought it forward. He stopped well short of Doyle, tossing it beside the village girl.
“There, take that. And the girl. And be grateful.”
Power rolled through him. His skin flushed with cold heat. He’d seen queens far more powerful than this upstart wench fold at the sight of his flame. He could take her out with one blast of ice fire, melt her face right off of the bones.
He pulled it all back. No. He’d take her sad offering. He’d sworn to protect the Winter Court and if he took her out she would take the entire palace with her. And then, the one thing that was now his entire purpose in life would be blasted to the ends of the universe.
And he would have failed.
SIOBHAN BLINKED HIBERNIETH-weakened eyes at the dragon. Atavantador was a legend, flying over the villages and mountains, too high in the sky to really see. He was horrifyingly beautiful in person. His scales were the color of spring ice, white with undertones of pale blue, and his eyes were an even deeper shade, with pupils slit like a cat’s. But his talons were as long as swords and his fangs were knife-sharp, and as he turned his attention to her, her very empty stomach squeezed tight in fear.
She wanted to scream, to shout, Bosco is coming. He’ll be here. He’ll rescue me! but her throat was still frozen shut. He was much bigger than she’d thought he’d be. His head was the size of a small pony and his wings spread out on either side of his huge body, taking up nearly the entire width of the room.
He scooped up her and the bag of gold in one clawed fist and made his way outside, the crowd racing out of the way in its effort to not get crushed by his passage. Blinding sunlight bounced off the white walls of the Winter Court, stabbing into her eyes. She forced cold limbs to move, pounding as hard as she could. But her muscles had atrophied and she knew, he couldn’t possibly feel her puny hits. She curled up into a ball inside the cage of claws, and he leapt into the sky.
The world tilted and swayed. If she’d had any food inside her belly it would have been gone, but she hadn’t eaten a thing for a hundred years, and there was nothing to heave. She opened her eyes but the flat empty expanse of tundra skimming by at a speed she never wanted to imagine made her head spin and she slammed them shut. Finally, the dragon slowed, his wings making long heavy beats as he landed. He opened his claws and she fell out, hitting the frozen ground hard.
She lay stunned, listening to the dragon muttering to himself. “Who does that frozen bitch think she is, denying me my due? We have a deal. I forebear from attacking her and she pays me off. It’s a time honored way of keeping the peace. What does she want? Me attacking her?”
Siobhan squinted her eyes open. The dragon was pacing back and forth, wings tightly furled, his tail lashing angrily behind him, his pale blue scales gleaming in the sun.
“And you...” He leaned in, eyes the size of dinner plates focusing their power suddenly on her. “She thinks I’m going to steal your power? What do I need with your piddly power? Does she not have any idea what a dragon really is?” He stopped, staring at her. His anger switching to a dawning amusement. “Hah!” he snorted, his breath blowing back pieces of her wet, frozen hair. “She thinks I’m like her, locked into my power by my shape.” His eyes gleamed.