Page 47 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)

Benevolence

I clench my eyes shut against the swath of bright light that cuts across my face, so at odds with the usual dull green glow of my prison. It blinds me, such is its radiance.

“Does she not make for a beautiful bride?” Malice asks, his voice nowhere and everywhere at once. He means to taunt me. To torture me.

I know that if I open my eyes and look, there will be only pain.

But I can’t help it.

I open my eyes anyway and raise my dragon muzzle from my front paws to look.

Through the window my uncle has created between worlds, I see Na’therya. She is a vision in white and gold, as if a star descended from the Great Weaver’s heavens and was made flesh.

Gem-encrusted silk clings to her luminescent skin. Her golden hair hangs loose beneath a crown of white gold and diamonds. Light wreathes her form, so bright it is almost difficult to see the woman beneath. But that is the way of Jewels.

They glow from within—their happiness shining out for all the world to see.

Happy . She is happy. Happier than I have ever seen her.

Happier than she ever was with me.

“See how she shines for me,” Malice whispers, twisting the dagger already buried in my heart that much deeper.

“Leave me be,” I snarl, but Malice does not. He clearly seeks to taunt me until my dying breath. Except this time, it is not his voice he torments me with.

It is hers .

“Bene...” Her utterance of my nickname is so soft, so sweet. It brushes against my mind in the most tender of caresses.

“Stop it!” I roar, letting my voice thunder through the garden, luring a cruel laugh from my uncle’s disembodied presence. “You’ve won! Just...” Lowering my head back to my paws, I rumble, “Just let me die in peace.”

“Na velar sha .”

Naei . I refuse to listen. It is simply another of Malice’s tricks. Aurelia cannot possibly be speaking to me now. Only the most powerful of Mind weaves could breach my prison. And even then—

“ Tir’anor .”

My heart forgets how to beat. Tir’anor . Not even my uncle would misuse that pledge.

Jerking my head upward, I stare through the window again, looking at the vision of Aurelia in all her glory drifting down a corridor of dark stone with her goblin escort, shining like the North Star.

Can it be?

Can it truly be?

“I pray you can hear me, Bene.”

I can! I want to shout, but dare not. If she is truly weaving to me, Malice does not know. If she is truly weaving to me...

My heart no longer knows if it wants to burst straight from my chest or stop beating altogether. Na velar sha. Tir’anor. Aurelia is repeating the pledge I uttered to her over Spindleton when I thought we were saying goodbye.

She loves me.

Aurelia loves me.

She shines for me .

Tears spring to my eyes—tears I do not try to hide from my uncle, who may very well still be watching in the hopes of seeing me suffer—when her sweet voice unfurls again, bringing with it more promises:

“Hold on just a little longer, Na’theryn . Wait for me. I am coming.”

Tir’anor, na’velar. I will wait for you. Until every star falls from the skies.

Until the Great Weaver calls me home.

I clench my eyes shut again, fighting to keep my excitement from showing within my draconic gaze. My uncle must continue to think I am drowning in despair. I cannot ruin my queen’s plans now.

But still, my muscles tense. My claws scrape against the dry earth beneath me. I am ready—ready to finally face my uncle on the battlefield. Ready to fight for Aurelia until my last breath. Ready to stop Malice’s war before it can truly begin.

Ready to save Drakara.

Gently, I nuzzle my aunties, checking for signs of life. Their breath stirs against my scales. Weak. Frail. But there.

They may yet survive.

We may all yet survive.

Thank you, Na’Eruv , I pray. Thank you .