Page 34 of Ensnared (The Dragon Captured #1)

I t’s a long way from Clear Lake to the George R.

Brown Convention Center on the back of a dragon that slithers like a snake, even when he’s really booking.

Actually, it feels scarier when he’s moving quickly.

Even with the saddle, I nearly slide off a few times.

It gives me more appreciation for Sammy, but that thought makes me sad.

I may never see him again.

And that’s my best-case scenario.

It’s immediately obvious when we’re getting close by the sheer number of dragons heading to the same place.

They’re on all sides of us now—blue, teal, green, yellow, brown, and reddish-brown.

They’re running, loping, and slithering down the streets of downtown Houston, leaving one another space, but not nervous about their proximity, either.

When I turn my head, silver flashes dip in and out of the clouds above.

More than a few of the dragons, brown, blue, green, and silver, have eyed me strangely, possibly due to the saddle, or more probably because they know that earth dragons can’t bond humans, so my presence on his back is bizarre at a baseline.

Watching these dragons moving through the city streets has to be the strangest—and possibly coolest—sight I’ve ever beheld.

“How many dragons are coming?”

A little more than ten thousand blessed came to your earth. We’ve all been summoned.

“And how many have died since your arrival?” I cringe a little asking that, because I’m secretly hoping the number’s high.

Less than twenty, last I heard.

Well, that’s disappointing. “I’m sorry.”

Only three were friends of mine, and you’re the one who killed them.

Awkward.

We may have trouble getting closer. Can you call Axel from here?

Oh, boy. How do I say no without cluing Gordon in that I don’t actually want Axel to know that I’m here? I push tentatively toward the connection in my brain, which I usually leave alone, because it scares me.

He’s close.

Very close, actually, but I don’t see him anywhere.

“I can definitely call him over—he’s really close right now. In fact, if you want to drop me off right here?—”

Gordon’s head whips around, his eyes wide. Leave you? I would never do that. You’re surrounded by. . . His eyes narrow. You want me to leave you here? Why?

“I just don’t want to cause any problems.” I shrug. “I saw how those other dragons were looking at me. I only wanted to be close enough that if Axel has problems, I can help.”

Gordon snorts. Then stay put and keep quiet. If you’re too nervous to summon Axel, you shouldn’t have come at all. He sighs heartily. I shouldn’t have brought you. Now I’m stuck babysitting.

Before he can say anything else, Azar rockets over our heads and flies straight up into the air. Just when I think he’s going to disappear into the atmosphere, he freezes in the sky.

And then he plummets down again.

For a moment, I’m terrified he’s not going to stop—what would happen if he hit the Convention Center? At the last second, his wings whip outward, and he practically stops mid-air again. A wall of air from his full stop practically knocks me off Gordon’s back.

He drops like a rock then, and nearly crash lands on the center of the front of the convention center, overlooking the park where most of the dragons are gathered.

I’ve been lenient since our arrival, because I was grateful that all of you chose to join me in our search for the heart.

The force of the words is very different than any other telepathic communications I’ve experienced. It’s almost aggressive with its projection, as if he’s unabashedly displaying the magnitude of his anger by the strength of his words.

Yesterday, a group of blessed gathered without my permission to take action against the ensnared of my dear friend, Axel.

I didn’t realize there could be telepathic murmurs, but it turns out, there can be. It’s strange to hear snatches of the communications of the dragons nearby.

Water dragon voices sound like the murmuring of brooks or the crashing of waves. Earth dragons are more rasping, like leaves crackling under boots in the fall. The electro dragons’ voices are clear, like the ringing of a bell, even when they’re keeping things quiet.

I know that most of you had nothing to do with this attack, but many of you knew about it and did nothing to stop it.

His head whips around, his massive golden eyes flashing as he glares at different groups of dragons.

Axel’s the Prince of the Earth Blessed. That alone should be enough to grant him a measure of respect from all of you, regardless of your affinity.

But he’s also my trusted ally. I’ve gathered you here today to ensure that we are united in our efforts to locate the heart.

Fragmenting into groups and fighting amongst ourselves is absolutely prohibited, as I said before we came.

The murmurs die down. Apparently the affinities, as he calls them, have fought amongst themselves for quite some time. That sounds like what Axel was saying before—but at least Azar’s trying to fix it, at least a little bit.

Ocharta, Princess of the Strike Blessed, present yourself.

Did Axel ask him to spare her? Will Azar listen?

I can’t help scanning the gathering. There are lots of blues, plenty of silvers, and an ocean of green and brown dragons, but I don’t see a single golden dragon, not anywhere.

I can sense that he’s near, somewhere in the gathered group, but why can’t I spot him?

He’s such a unique color that it should be simple.

Did he ask Azar to go easy on Ocharta, and did that make Azar mad? Did they fight?

What’s wrong? Gordon asks. You’re shifting like a grub.

“I’m not,” I say. “I’m nothing like those nasty white worms.”

You’re agitated.

“Where’s Axel?” I ask. “I don’t see him.”

Gordon tosses his head in a move very reminiscent of a shrug, which is hard to do without shoulders, but apparently not impossible.

“Aren’t you worried that he’s not out front?”

They don’t appear together often, Gordon says. We earth blessed adore our prince, and we tend to focus on him when he’s around. Axel usually hangs back when Azar’s making declarations so we’ll focus on Azar.

“That’s weird,” I say.

The murmurs increase, because apparently Ocharta’s missing too.

This time, the only way to describe Azar’s tone is thunderous. Ocharta, strike blessed, you will appear before me, now.

Even I shake at the force of his fury, but the dragons have all flattened themselves against the ground, including Gordon.

Up above, a silver dragon circles.

She’s powerful, Gordon says. I couldn’t resist his summons for a single moment.

“Are you saying that Azar can force the dragons to come to him?”

Gorden grunts.

“Why can he do that?”

Any prince or princess can do it, but he can summon all affinities, because flame rules us all.

As she slowly circles downward, I can’t help but notice the sun. It’s nearly at the top of the sky—noon is when the nuclear strike’s supposedly coming. We’re all gathered perfectly. The thought of that makes me tremble even more.

Azar roars, and she plummets to the ground. Silver dragons crawl toward her, attempting to protect her, it appears.

I didn’t raise a claw against the human, Ocharta says. Though had I, I would not apologize for it.

Attacking his bonded is the same as attacking Axel himself. Having her in front of him seems to have calmed Azar, or at least, he’s not bellowing as loudly.

His human’s not right, she says. She’s rebellious and not well controlled. He shouldn’t have bonded one in the first place. Even an earth blessed prince can’t manage them.

Azar raises his wings and shoots a column of flame straight up into the air. His nostrils are flared when he drops his head. You’re neither Princess of the Earth Blessed, nor the Prince of the Flame. It’s not up to you to determine how to handle Prince Axel or his ensnared.

Ocharta tilts her head. Yet, the Prince of the Flame wasn’t doing anything about it, perhaps because it was his friend. I did what needed to be done, and I’m willing to pay for my decision.

Azar’s back to bellowing at full volume. What would you tell me to do to a subordinate who challenges my authority? Should I let her rebellion pass with a mere singe, or should I annihilate her?

Ocharta rocks back and spreads her wings halfway. You have yet to choose a mate. It’s been said that you want an equal. Someone who’s willing to do whatever it takes for the good of the blessed. Someone who thinks for herself.

Azar hops down, his wings half-spread as well. I’m not the only person who’s on the edge of my seat—all the dragons around me have leaned forward, craning their necks for a better view.

I wouldn’t choose you if you were the last blessed on earth, Azar says. I’m looking for any reason why I shouldn’t kill you, and you haven’t given me one yet.

Ocharta’s wings drop to her back. Kill me ? She hisses. You wouldn’t dare.

This is not going well. I don’t see my mom anywhere, but her life is dangling by a thread. I wonder whether she knows it? Why can’t Ocharta just back down?

“Hey,” I whisper. “Gordon.”

He cocks his head back. Hush.

“What would happen if another dragon challenged Ocharta? Do they ever do that?”

Why would they? She’s about to die.

“But if someone did, do you guys have, like, rules?”

Gordon sighs. Usually, if another blessed issues a challenge, they’d be allowed to fight her. She’s pretty irritating, so she’s been challenged several times.

“What happened to the dragons who challenged her?”

They’re all dead. She’s irritating, but she’s powerful.

Awesome. “What if you defeat her, but you don’t want to kill her?”

You would kill her.

“But what if you didn’t want her dead?”

Gordon rolls his eyes like I don’t even deserve a response.

Axel must’ve asked Azar to spare her, because he looks irate, but she’s still alive. You must issue an apology and promise never to do something similar again. Without both, you leave me no choice.

Ocharta’s eyes are flashing and her tail’s whipping back and forth. I’ll apologize to you, Lord, for insubordination, of course. But I won’t apologize to Axel, to whom I owe no respect, and I certainly won’t promise never to challenge him again. He’s beneath us, and I despise him.

Azar’s practically shaking. Flames are literally bursting from his nose intermittently. Ocharta’s just desperate to get herself killed.

Which would be fine, except for my mother.

But the US Government chooses this moment to make all of this moot.

Two fighters roar overhead, firing on the gathered dragons.

If the regular fighting falcons and raptors are here, the larger jets carrying the nuclear warheads won’t be far behind.

The military may not have had much success so far, but they’ll send in the distractions first, and once the huge red dragon’s busy, they’ll drop the big guns.

Nukes.

That means time’s up.