Page 133 of Courting the Dragon Prince

Luther grabbed the dagger from the floor. “So you have your powers. That’s good. But I don’t.” Luther reached out and yanked the second dagger from the soldier’s chest. She slumped lifelessly forward.

Luther gave the bloody dagger a quick wipe on the soldier’s trousers. “At least I have these.” He clenched one dagger in each of his manacled hands.

“So what’s the plan for when this door opens?” Onyx stared at the door.

Luther glanced at the dead soldiers. “Too late to pretend we’re still subdued prisoners. I guess we run for it.”

Onyx nodded. “All right. We fight our way out. You with your daggers. Me with my powers. I’ll try and clear our path as much as possible before us. We run until we find cover and then keep running, I guess.”

“You’re injured and drugged,” Luther pointed out.

Onyx shrugged. “Not much I can do about that. At least we’ll have surprise on our side.”

Luther’s fingers tightened on the hilts of the daggers, gaze fixed on the door. Bending over, he moved in front of the door, body tense and ready to spring forward into action. “I’ll go first.”

Onyx didn’t argue. He just got into place behind Luther.

Footsteps moved around the wagon towards the door. But it didn’t open. He heard murmured voices. But he couldn’t tell what they said. A horse neighed.

Every nerve, every muscle, every fibre of Onyx’s being coiled tightly. Hopefully, the adrenaline would make up for any slowness caused by his injuries or the remaining lysithea still in his system.

He let out a breath, connecting to the rock around him. The connection lacked the clarity he normally obtained, but still, the stones stood ready to obey him.

A voice he didn’t recognise yelled from a distance, “Would this be a good spot, Your Majesty?”

Anger burned through Onyx’s blood. He gritted his teeth.

How dare this soldier refer to Warden Flint asYour Majesty? That was the way you addressed a monarch. The monarch was his mother! Not his uncle. Warden Flint was a usurper and a traitor! He would never be the grand warden of the Grey Mountains. Never! Onyx would do everything in his power to stop his uncle’s plan.

But first, he had to focus. First, he and Luther had to get away.

“Yes,” Warden Flint called out from somewhere near the front of the wagon. “That spot will be suitable.”

What spot? Was this the spot where they’d kill Luther and make it look like Onyx had done it?

Onyx did not intend to find out. They’d escape. They’d thwart his uncle’s plans. Then Onyx would make his uncle pay.

“You can bring them out of the wagon now,” Warden Flint called out.

Footsteps approached the back door. Keys rattled. Metal scraped. The padlock clunked as it released. Metal rattled against wood as the soldier removed the padlock.

The door opened a crack.

Luther roared as he shoved the door outwards.

ChapterSixty-One

The door smashed into the woman opening it, knocking her flat on her back. In front of Onyx, Luther sprang from the back of the wagon.

Onyx jumped out after him, trying to ignore the dizziness that washed over him and the aches and pains from all the injuries he’d sustained that day.

Another soldier gaped at them, taking a step back. Lunging forward, Luther sliced the dagger across the soldier’s throat. Then, with a graceful fling of the dagger, he buried the blade in the chest of another who stood a few feet away.

Then Luther ran. Onyx followed, clenching his teeth.

Around them, voices and yells erupted.

Luther sprinted towards a massive rock outcropping. Onyx remained close on his heels. The moon lit their way. Four soldiers stood ahead of them. They all turned to face them.