Page 50 of The Poisoned King (Impossible Creatures #2)
The Impossible Princess
There was silence so total that you could hear each person breathing; a thousand breaths knotted together.
“I found an antidote. I made it with Christopher.” She turned to Christopher and smiled.
Christopher came to her where she stood on the dais. He smiled back, and the smile shone so brightly you could have seen it from the moon. He drew his sword and handed it to her. Then he stood back, waiting, ready. A guardian by birth and by sheer ferocious will.
“I have the book that you stole from the Outerlands, Claude,” she said. “A dragon translated the runes. He told me there was power in the antidote. Glimourie power.”
It was Jacques’s moment. He flew high, looking out over the crowd.
“The heart of a woodfrog freezes solid in the winter. The frog seems dead until it’s woken by the heat of the sun.
The runes told: those who take the antidote before they drink poison will seem to die.
But they can be woken,” said Jacques, “by blood, by a pinprick, to start the blood flowing in the veins.” He flew to land on her shoulder.
“The book said it had never been tried on humans. Anya Argen chose to take a terrible risk.”
“I had to try. Because the dragons, whom you murdered for their gold, had no antidote. And”—the words rose in her like a sob—“my grandfather had no antidote. Your father, Halam Argen, whom you murdered for his throne.”
“Guards!” cried Claude, and now he was desperate. “She is lying! She is in league with her father! Take hold of her!”
Three men moved, eager, rat-faced, to do his bidding; but they were blocked by the five castle cooks, broad and stocky and powerful and livid. “Don’t you move, lads,” said the head cook. “Not a foot.”
The other guards stood, hands at the hilts of their swords, their faces twisted. They looked to the general of the guard for guidance.
“My lord,” said the general. “We no longer take orders from you. Anya Argen, the heir to the throne, is there in front of you. We are hers to command.”
Claude Argen opened his mouth to speak—but at that moment there was a shattering of glass and a crumbling of stone. Through the window—the window and part of the wall—flew a winged beast, red and black and scaled.
The crowd screamed; a scream that began in confusion and rose in pitch to panic as they understood what had come to rest in the white-decked hall. Anya heard Christopher’s gasp of astonished admiration—for the beauty of the dragon in the cut-glass morning light was a staggering thing.
Arach came to a halt amid the glass and rubble in front of the dais. He furled his wings. His left eye had a film across its surface, and his legs spasmed as he moved, but his power was monumental. He spoke, his voice echoing through the great space.
“Claude Argen. We have met before. I was blind then, but I know your smell. You came, a thief in the dark, to wreak havoc and death upon my family. I have come to exact my price.”
Claude took three steps backward. True terror had seized him. But Anya darted forward, broken glass crunching under her shoes and catching at her white gown. She laid her hands on the dragon’s muzzle, above his lip. “No,” she whispered. “ No. He’s mine.”
The dragon looked into the girl’s eyes. He saw kin.
For a long, stretching second they faced each other, dragon and girl. Then Arach nodded. He moved his vast body to stand behind her, casting his shadow over her; a bodyguard of mammoth size.
The general of the guards gathered himself and gave a shouted command: “Squadron! Arrest Claude Argen!” A dozen men and women surged forward toward the dais.
“No!” Anya cried to them. “Stay back! He is mine! I don’t want anyone to help. This is for me to end. Hold them back!” she said to Arach, to Christopher, to the chimaera, and the dragon turned and roared—a roar as large as the castle itself—and the soldiers drew back, the mourners behind them.
There was just the dais, and the shower of glass, a great stretch of the hall, and Anya and her uncle.
“Look out!” cried Gallia as Claude’s hand went to his belt. “Anya! He has a sword!”