Page 121 of Blackheart

“Don’t move another step,” the bladebreather warned, her wicked voice dripping with violence. Her silver scales gleamed like armor in the sunlight. She towered over us, at least five times the size of Zephy.

Amzee and I both took a step back, her face pale.

Zephy soared down like a hawk, scooping her up with his claws and fleeing. She hollered for him to put her back, but he whimpered and whined, carrying her off to safety.

Lightheaded, I held my shaking hands up.

“Who are you?” the beast boomed.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Elora. My name is Elora. Who are you?”

She stepped towards me. I fell back onto the ground at the sight of her claws.

Behind me, Lady Jocelynn had not yet run for the woods. She sat on her mare, the color draining from her face. She looked at me as if I were already dead.

I shuffled back to my feet. If I was going to die, it would not be cowering.

Not after everything I’d been through to get here.

The bladebreather stood to her full height, peering down at me like I was prey.

“I am Valeska, and these are my kin. You do not hail from these lands, yet you tread upon my grass, seeking to claim one of my own. My children. For what purpose? Greed? Violence? A thrill?” Her dark eyes, edged in the same silver as her scaled body, locked onto mine. A silent threat lingered in the air: a promise of death for the wrong answer.

My voice was shakier than I would have preferred. “I have people that I care for, too. I come from a land where they would do terrible things to creatures like you. I want to be a rider, to aid in the war against them. We could bring riders for all of you. Together we could keep your home, and mine, safe.”

It was the first attempt in my life at being diplomatic, and while I wasn’t sure I said the right things, it was the truth.

Ashy, metal-tinged smoke blew from her nostrils.

“I have no interest in aiding a man’s war. Do you see aid for us here? Do you see sheep or cattle? No. And if we explore other areas for food, we are hunted. You land-walkers are no friends of ours. I only allow the few bonded riders because they have been valuable to us. Keeping us fed, getting to know us. Butyou… You just want to take. Today will be your last daytaking.”

She reared back, metal rippling at the back of her throat.

I turned on my heels, running as fast as I could towards the woodline. Lady Jocelynn was gone, of course. The first three blades plummeted into the ground behind me, too close for comfort. My muscles burned, grass kicking up under my feet.

My wedding was supposed to be next week. The one contribution I could make wasn’t even going to happen before I was impaled.

My eyes burned, tears welling as my dream of becoming a rider died.

Valeska bellowed. I looked back as a fresh batch of blades came spearing from her mouth. Dodging them, I fell, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

“Shit,” I cursed, dark tears singeing the dirt. I got back up. The ground quaked with each menacing roar. I wobbled, trying not to fall again, but the woods were still too far. I wasn’t going to make it.

The clink of metal rose in the back of her throat again, and I knew this was it. In history books, would they include thebastard sister of King Clarke and King Xavian, or would they leave me out altogether?

The blades released from Valeska’s throat, a whistle of metal coming at me. Death reaching for the back of my neck.

But death wasn’t fast enough.

A mysterious force, either mist or shadow, gripped me with immense strength, yanking me upward onto an invisible steed.

We dashed across the field. Valeska cried out in outrage as I melted into the air itself. I glanced down at my hands, but they weren’t visible either. Was I dead?

Racing into the woodline, the illusion faded in waves. I wasn’t dead at all. I was on the back of Lady Jocelynn’s horse. She sat behind me, panting.

She’d never left me.

I couldn’t believe she had held her Nature for so long,andextended it to the mare and me.