cone of fire. At first, they throw up their shields, but they drop them with stricken cries as the metal begins to burn red. The horses shriek and bolt; some riders fall and are dragged through the streets, or trampled by terrified hooves. A few of the men manage to get close to me, but when I knock them aside with my claws, they scamper.
It doesn’t demand much from me, but I was tired to start with. My eyes are closing before the last man is out of sight.
Sabra creeps over. She has stayed close this whole time.
Thank you, Dragon, she whispers.
Were I not exhausted, I would have said, It wasn’t for you. Three or four of George’s men lie dead at my feet. I suppose I will have to deal with all of this later.
Sabra has brought me a wooden bucket of water. There appear to be some weeds floating on the surface.
Drink this, she says. I added some herbs that will cure a sore throat. She smiles up at me shyly.
I drink the water and doze until I hear her set the bucket in front of me again. The plants are useless, but the water is fine.
When I’ve quenched my thirst, I start tearing into one of George’s men. The armor is a pesky inconvenience. Sabra sits by my side, watching.
You must be wondering who George is, she says thoughtfully. He is a minor noble from the province neighboring ours. A year ago, he asked my father for my hand in marriage. He has some money, but little else to his name. Father refused him. All this was kept from me, of course. I have already told you some of my former ignorance.
She shifts in her seat and continues, Meanwhile, you arrived. It wasn’t long before a lottery was established to determine whose child was to be your supper. Names were inscribed on pebbles and thrown into a pit in the middle of the city square. This was done in the presence of all the townspeople, so that no child would be excluded—except for me. No one would dare suggest that the king’s daughter be sacrificed.
Inez Tan | 17