Page 45 of Ensnared (The Dragon Captured #1)

I said I’d take the master. Mostly I picked that because it has an antechamber. Axel can do whatever he does in there while I sleep in the bedroom. The bed looks amazing, and the door has a lock.

Before there’s time for an argument, Axel says, “It’s almost time for Liz to go upstairs. The blessed are gathering below.”

“How can you tell?” Sammy asks.

It’s a good question. He’s a smart kid.

“I feel them,” Axel says. “The earth blessed ones, anyway.”

“Can Azar feel them all?” I ask.

Axel frowns. “I’ve never asked him, but probably.”

When it’s time, we take the elevator up, leaving Gordon and Rufus with Gideon and the kids. Gideon wanted to come, but I convinced him to keep an eye on Coral, Jade, and Sammy in the new place. Eventually, he’s going to get sick of me asking him to do that. I’m not sure what I’ll do then.

Azar shifts the second we emerge from the elevator.

I can’t tell whether the engine growling sound is actually smaller, or whether I’m just growing accustomed to it.

Either way, his shifts seem less and less disruptive.

Less shocking. He swirls his way, in a cloud of red smoke, into a dragon that can destroy the world.

My dragon who can destroy the world.

It’s a subtle shift, but when I think the words, they feel right. It may be scary, but I think he might have been right when he said we were inextricably connected. Instead of looking for ways out, I’m now contemplating a future that will always have him in it.

That alone is horrifying.

You need to change.

Lying on the ground next to Azar, right by where he just shifted, there’s a pile of clothing. It’s all red and brown and gold, and an even larger visor’s resting on top of it. “What’s that?”

You’re the entwined for the prince of flame. You have to look the part. Underneath the clothes are the two swords I pulled from the heart stone. Next to them, there’s another belt with three small daggers on it.

I duck into the bathroom and do my best not to struggle with all the strange and stiff clips and clasps.

At first, I assume the entire thing is made of leather—it’s bright red and dark brown, made of a skin of some kind.

It’s supple and it’s strong. But as I do the last round of buckles, I realize something.

I’m wearing dragon skin.

It must be.

The red isn’t dyed.

The brown and gold sections aren’t either. The golden part of the skin exactly matches the gold visor and the golden shoulder shield that both lock into place without any external mechanism.

“Where did you get this?” I ask, as I leave the bathroom. “Is it really dragon skin?”

Of course , he says. It’s my skin. What else would you wear?

“But you need your skin, surely.”

I saved it when I shed. Now it’s yours.

“You saved it? Where?”

He sighs.

“Magic?”

He snorts, smoke wafting upward from his huge nostrils.

“Alright, alright. Let the slow kid in the class through. We have some dragons to greet.”

Climb on , he says.

It’s easier than it was, and I notice I’m developing calluses on my hands where I’ve been gripping his shoulder ridges. So much for magic. Some things I’m figuring out the human way—painful and slow, but much more familiar.

If you really want a saddle , he says, I can make you one.

“We can talk about this later, when I’m not about to meet a thousand of your closest friends.”

Try ten thousand.

I really did not have the best view the last time, but this time, when Azar walks out, there are dragons arrayed around his tower as far as my eyes can see.

In case I wasn’t yet sufficiently in awe, Azar steps off the platform and plummets nearly to the ground before spreading his wings and coasting in a slow, lazy circle.

This is Elizabeth Chadwick, he says. She was Axel’s bonded. I took her from him, and now she’s mine. She isn’t merely ensnared. We’re entwined, so if you lay so much as a claw on her, I will reduce you to ash. And then, I’ll utterly decimate anyone who ever cared for you.

Okay.

Bow.

They all do—like an ocean of shining, shimmering scales, all the dragons beneath us drop down, their heads lowering to the ground and staying low.

“How long are you going to?—”

As long as I want.

I’ve never really seen absolute power in my life. After all, even the President of the United States has to be elected, and his term is limited.

But now, I guess I have. Azar commands ten thousand dragons. He swallows nukes and converts their power into a nightlight. He magics boundaries and dragon skin suits, and he fears nothing.

And now he’s protecting me.

I’m not going to lie. It’s a heady feeling. I give myself a moment to revel in it before I start to think about what that means. In thirty seconds, I went from a human who was fighting against the devil to save all humankind to a minion of the destroyer.

Oh, crap.

Good feelings definitely all gone.

Azar roars, then.

The dragons all throw their heads up—blue, green, silver, brown, and every shade in between—and bugle into the air.

All hail Elizabeth Chadwick, Entwined of the Prince of Flame.

That was strange. All those dragons, thinking the same thing at the same time, with my name thrown in there.

“Maybe we should have, like, I don’t know, used a new name or something.”

You don’t like your name?

“It’s just, listen to it. Azar, Prince of the Flame, and. . .Elizabeth Chadwick. They sound. . .strange together.”

I’ll think on it.

“Alright.” We make a few more loops, and right as I’m wondering how much longer this is going to last, Azar flies up to the tower and the dragons start to disperse.

I’ll say this for dragon meetings. They’re not long and overblown.

We’re still upstairs in Azar’s lair—I decide that’s a better place to shower and get changed. The new outfit’s pretty awesome, but it’s also a bit pro-dragon for my family. I’ve changed out of it and I’m sliding back into my Pink t-shirt and ratty jeans when Azar calls for me. Liz.

What now? I zip up my pants and burst out of the bathroom. “What? I was barely in there for?—”

You have visitors.

“I thought we were going to keep the kids downstairs.”

He tosses his head toward the entry area near the elevator bay, and I realize it’s not the kids who are already here, waiting to see me.

Dozens and dozens of ensnared—no, make that nearly a hundred of them—are crowded into the center of the vast space that makes up Azar’s urban lair.

It’s a good thing he shoved all the furniture out of the way to clear more space, because they look like they could give a mob of Swifties a run for their money.

They’re wearing outfits not dissimilar to what I was wearing, with fewer scales of course, and their hair’s all varying shades of blue and silver.

Which is really strange.

“Uh, hello,” I say. “I’m Elizabeth?—”

Before I can even finish saying my name, they bow.

All of them.

“Whoa, guys. What’s going on?” They don’t move a single hair. They’re all just lying there, utterly still, facedown, just like the dragons earlier. “Seriously, stand up. What are you doing?”

They don’t move.

“Okay, for real,” I say. “Stand up.”

They all jerk forward and finally rise, like they’re half robot or something. That’s when I realize I put a little too much force behind my command.

I made them stand.

Aw, geez. This is seriously bizarre.

“So, not that I’m not happy to meet you all, but is there a reason you’re here? Right now?”

“Help me.” The woman closest to me has royal blue hair. She drops to her knees again. “My blessed spends all his time underwater, and he doesn’t make me stay there, but the only thing he wants to eat is fish, and?—”

“Please.” The man next to her shoves her.

His hair’s silver. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be electrocuted half a dozen times a day?

My blessed thinks it’s funny to zap me. It doesn’t cause permanent damage, thanks to the bond, but it’s painful.

I wake up every half hour at night now in a panic, worried I’m about to be electrocuted. ”

They’re all here. . .to complain? Is this for real?

You’re now the leader of the ensnared.

“But I’m not ensnared,” I say. “I’m entwined, and?—”

“How did you do it?” the woman who was complaining about too much fish asks. “If I could do that, I might not mind the fish. I heard that being entwined’s totally different. Your blessed is—” She cuts off with a squeak and bows again. “But he seems to adore you.”

Clearly she’s scared of him, but she’s also jealous.

This is all very, very strange.

Liz is too tired to talk to you today. You’ll have to come again, in groups of no more than five. Azar sighs. Talk to Rufus one floor down. He’ll group you into batches and set up a few meetings a day.

“But we need guidance,” the man says. “We need a leader.”

And she needs time to understand her role. The whiplash in his voice that time shocks even me.

The ensnared all flatten themselves to the floor again.

I glare. “That’s hardly helpful,” I mutter. “Alright, alright, on your feet.”

They slowly rise with a lot of backward glances and trembling, and then they exit through the stairwell. I’m hoping they’ll find an elevator on another floor and not try to walk all the way down. Trotting down seventy-five levels would destroy me, and I’m in decent shape.

But one of them hasn’t left, one with silver hair. When I finally notice her face, I realize why.

It’s my mother.

“I know it’s presumptuous of me to ask this of you, Your Highness.” She drops to her knees. “But please, can you hear me out today?”

My mother doesn’t look good. Her formerly vibrant silver hair’s tangled and dull. Her skin’s dirty and sallow. Her eyes have hollows underneath them.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, and then I realize.

Her dragon’s half-dead and stuck in a magic red bubble. Did I think she’d be fine? I’m such a selfish jerk.

“It has been such a long day and a half,” I say, realizing that’s all it’s been. “I’m so sorry, Mom.” I drop to one knee and reach for her.

She skitters away, her head bowed again, her eyes trained on the ground. “I’m sorry for my impertinence, but I have an urgent request.”

“Anything, Mom. Say the word.”

She turns her face up slowly, her lips trembling. “Can you transfer my bond to another blessed?” She inhales sharply. “I’ll still serve, just with another blessed. Any one you choose.” She bows her head.

Oh, no. We did tell everyone that my bond was transferred. I want to tell her that’s not what happened, but I can’t. It’s not my secret. “Mom, I can’t do that.”

Her eyes are haunted when she pleads with me. “Can’t? Or won’t? Because I’ll do anything. I’ll be anything?—”

I grab her hand and wrap mine around it. “Mom, I would do it if there was any way I could. What happened with me, it can’t be repeated. It was. . .not something I can help you with.”

“Then, if you can’t transfer my bond. . .” A tear rolls down her face.

In that moment, all the moments in my life that Mom held me, that she wiped my face, that she brushed my hair, that she helped me dress, that she laughed with me about something silly, all those tiny moments roll together in my mind, and they’re all painful.

Because the one time she’s asking for my help, I can’t give it.

“If you can’t, then will you—or your master—” She pauses. She breathes in and out, and then she grunts. The rest of her question pours out in a rush. “Will you please kill my Blessed?” She begins to shake uncontrollably.

I wait for it to abate, but it seems to only be getting worse. “What’s going on?” Clearly Mom’s not going to be able to answer me, so I’m looking to Azar for answers.

She must’ve been commanded not to think any harmful thoughts about her blessed, he says. Breaking those rules is impossible for most ensnared. You should be proud. Your mother’s quite strong.

And Ocharta really is the devil’s bride.

“Mom, it’s okay.” I want to reassure her, send energy her way, but I’m worried that if I do, my command and Ocharta’s will fight, and then what?

Azar shrugs.

Mom’s still convulsing, so I decide to risk it, keeping it as simple as possible. You did nothing wrong. You’re healthy and strong and fine. I push the thought at her and hold my breath.

She bows upward, and then she collapses, no longer trembling. I rush to her side, hoping she’s still breathing. . .and she is. I exhale slowly and sit next to her. “Mom.”

Her frame still rocks gently, but I realize it’s because she’s crying. “Please,” she whispers. “Please kill her.”

“I can’t,” I say. “Mom, I can’t do that. It might kill you, too.”

“It will.” She turns toward me. “And I still want you to do it.”