Page 22 of Ensnared (The Dragon Captured #1)

I dive for the closet, wondering whether I can wake Axel up.

But the closet actually has something weird inside it.

There’s a giant rock, like, bigger than Sammy, with two identical swords sunk into it.

I’m getting major Sword in the Stone vibes, only there are two long blades.

Carved into the base of the stone are some letters I wouldn’t have known before I was ensnared, but now I can miraculously read, just like how I now speak dragon.

To carve the heart and save the blessed.

They must be some kind of holy swords. It makes sense the prince of the earth blessed would have them, I guess. They’re the only ones who might have hands to hold them. It’s not like any of the other dragons could use swords.

A huge crash outside tells me that the silver dragon has broken through.

I swear under my breath, and then I leap toward the stone, pulling with all my might on the swords. They both slide right out—so much for Arthurian legends. I guess this stone’s more of, like, a display stand for the dragons.

Electro dragon outside’s huffing and sniffing and muscling its way around, and my adrenaline spikes.

Time to see what I can do with these things.

They’ve got to be better than a fire poker and a decorative blade.

They’re much heavier than the shinai, the bamboo swords we used for kendo, but I did sometimes use two.

Maybe I won’t cut my own arm off at the wrist when I go out there.

“Did someone say traitorous murderer?” I burst out of the closet.

I’m left staring at a huge silver dragon butt.

Not exactly the scene I had in my mind, but I’m less likely to be electrocuted from this side. I lunge forward and jab with my right hand—my dominant hand—straight into its nicely rounded hind end.

The sword, unlike the stupid one I jabbed at Azar, slides right into the dragon’s derriere, and boy does it roar. If a bear got caught in a trap, and an elephant lost a toenail, and a whale’s fin was severed, the three together couldn’t wail as loudly as this whiner.

“Oh, please,” I say. “I barely poked you.”

But when it spins around, I’m regretting everything. Where’s the prince?

“Why would I tell you that?”

I have urgent news from our leader about human troop movements.

Whoops.

“So. . .you’re not trying to kill him?”

Today, I did not expect to learn that dragons can glare.

“The thing is, you kind of broke into his house, and that seemed a little hostile to me. So, I know that I stabbed your butt, and you could get angry about that, but I?—”

The dragon doesn’t warn me in any way before opening its mouth and zapping me.

Once, as a kid, I touched an electric fence. I wanted to know how it felt. Yes, I was that idiotic as a child. Anyway, it didn’t feel great. I shot back about a foot and a half and landed hard on my bony rear end.

That was nothing to this.

The electric charge that channels into me rattles me down to my genetic code, probably jumbling my DNA beyond repair. My pain sensors are shaking, they’ve been so overloaded. I can’t breathe, I can’t see, and my brain shuts down. I can’t even recall my own name.

But then the world sort of bows outward and then shifts back in, and the weight of my poor choices slams into me like a freight train. It feels like someone’s inverted all my cells and is playing a song with them.

All of that misery pisses me off.

Royally.

“I think you lied to me,” I hiss. “You aren’t here to convey a message at all, are you?”

The dragon hisses, but this time, I don’t aim for its butt. I stab that nightmare right next to its front leg, hitting who knows what, and it howls even louder than it did the first time.

And it bleeds black.

It’s throwing its head back, ready to zap me again, probably ratcheting the power knob all the way up to demolish, when the bathroom door opens.

“Axel, really?” I can’t believe it. “Shift, already, would you?”

“Are you using my swords?” He sighs. “You didn’t even ask.”

“I’m about to die, here.”

“I know,” he says. “I heard.”

“ You were awake ?”

He shrugs. “I told you we don’t sleep. Of course I was awake.”

The stupid silver dragon zaps me again while he’s chatting, and it hurts even worse this time. But by the time I regain consciousness, lying sideways on the plush carpet of Axel’s master suite, I can see the carcass of the awful silver monster that tried to kill me.

“You still alive?” Axel doesn’t even look worried.

I can’t feel my toes. I’m drooling. My tongue feels too big for my mouth. My hair has probably fallen out. I’m positive my teeth are loose. But I manage to moan, “I hate you.”

He chuckles. “I feel it, too. I wasn’t the idiot who got shot.”

I find the thread of the bond and I lean on it, hard, projecting all my misery, all my anger, and all my frustration at him like a right hook.

“Yeah, got it.” He drops next to me on one knee and holds up both his hands, channeling magic into my visor, I think. All I know for sure is that it creates a burst of power that finally stops all the pain.

That’s when I let go and float in a sea of relief and sunshine.

When I wake up again, I’m in a bed, and nothing hurts. In fact, I’m warm, calm, and surrounded by fluff. “Fluff Dog?” I croak.

“You really like to milk your injuries, huh?”

I know that voice. I force myself upright. “Are Sammy, Coral, and Jade alright?”

Axel nods. “Fine. All the damage was localized in here.” He points at the hole in his wall where his back door used to be. “Stupid strike blessed thought she was smaller than she was.”

“Women. Always overly optimistic. I think it’s those stupid mirrors they sell that make us look slimmer than we really are.”

I think his lip curls a little—maybe he’s starting to really get me.

“Did you kill her?”

“Of course,” he says.

“I thought they were stronger than you,” I say. “Wasn’t that what you found so upsetting?”

“Not me,” he says. “They’re stronger than most of my people. I’m a prince.” He’s frowning now. I’ve clearly hit a nerve.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you were stronger.”

“Actually, my hot-headed human had nearly killed her when I finally intervened. I finished her off without ever changing out of my human form.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “You shouldn’t have been able to use those swords at all.”

“Well, no one told them that—or me.”

“I’d never actually used them before today,” he grumbles.

“Why not? You never fight as a human, I guess.”

“Well, that,” he says. “But also, no one’s ever been able to get them out of that rock.”

I straighten up. “You’re kidding. I’m the only worthy one?”

“Huh?”

“It’s in all the movies and stuff,” I say. “When there are swords stuck in rocks, or like special, magical hammers, only one worthy person can use them.”

“I doubt that’s?—”

“Trust me,” I say. “That’s what it means.”

“Well, thanks for pulling them out, because I used them just fine tonight, and not many blades can penetrate blessed hide.”

“That’s so unfair.” I swing my legs out of the bed, alarmed at my lack of pants.

“Your clothes were covered in blood,” he says.

I fling my legs back under the covers and look down. I’m wearing a huge button-down shirt.

It’s definitely not my shirt.

“Who dressed me?”

“Me,” he says. “Who else would be strong enough to do it? Sammy?”

Did he just make a joke?

“Listen. I feel a little bad about keeping the swords.”

“Great, then give them to me.”

“Nice try,” he says, “but those are a blessed relic. There’s no way I’m giving them to you, Miss Stabby.”

“I saved you,” I say. “Or did you forget?”

“You were trying to save me so you didn’t also die,” he says, “but I was awake and would have come out to stop that misguided attacker no matter what you did.”

“Potato, pohtahto.”

“What?”

“I think I earned a sword. Let’s go halfsies.” I hold out my hand. “And I’m definitely going to need a pair of pants.”

“My pants kept falling off,” he says.

My jaw drops. “You tried putting them on me?” I can’t even let my mind think about what that would’ve been like.

He frowns. “First you’re upset you’re not wearing any, and now you’re upset I tried to put them on you?” His brow furrows. “You make no sense, Liz.”

"That’s all human women. Get used to it.”

“In any case, I came up with another way to reward your efforts.”

A reward? “What is it?” I point at him. “If you say pants, I’m going to stab you with the sword that’s mine.”

He stands and crosses his room, and then he rummages around in the bottom of the nightstand. If I’d had a little more time, I’d have checked there myself. When he comes back, he’s carrying a belt with three small daggers in a custom scabbard.

“Those are a little small,” I say. “Have you seen all the dragons? You guys are huge.”

“These aren’t normal daggers.”

I lean closer and narrow my eyes, searching for large, magical gems or ancient glyphs. No luck. I look up at him slowly. “Axel, did you pull them out of a rock?”

“They’ve been dipped in Azar’s venom,” he says. “If you use them on any dragon in this camp, they’ll be immediately incapacitated. And unless Azar himself decides to spare them, within an hour, they’ll die.”

Any dragon here, which implies that it would even stun him. Right? That must mean he trusts me now.

He’s an idiot.

I hold out my hand. “I still maintain that one of those swords should be mine, but I accept your gift.”

“I thought you might.”