I just wanted to touch the earth.
Zysteria had heard rumours that soil was much like sand, but she hadn’t quite believed it. Now she was so close—and yet so far.
What was I thinking? Chills swept through her limbs, burrowing into her scales. She thrashed against the sand,
Basket snug under her arm, Elmira scanned the forest floor. A long, paper-thin material poked out among the nettles—a discarded dragon skin. It was yellow and curled, probably a few days old. Still, she had to be on the right track.
Where are you? She swiped a hand across her brow.
The rebels had promised a quick, painless Revolution: Down with the king, up with the men living in nothing but dust.
Liars, all of them, Sabelle thought, grimacing. The rebels’ notion of freedom excluded anyone connected to the nobility, no matter how far-removed the relation.
There were no bats. So weird. Most vampires enjoyed playing into the stereotypes. Throughout her volunteering as a bloodlender, Emily had seen shutters painted blood red, fang-shaped windows, and even encountered guard bats that pooped on her head.
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The king was broken in pieces.
Ezahtira shouldn’t have been surprised. Ever since the gods punished the kings for their corruption, the nation of Cadmar had suffered the Two-Taloned Curse. The First Talon turned each king into a stone-like substance at death, after which he would crumble.
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