Page 107 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

The lacertian grunted and struggled, grabbing Delilah around the waist, and trying to pry her off. She clung on with everything she had, searching for a break in the scales, soft flesh for her to dig her claws into.

“Get—” The lacertian crashed backwards into a wall, then lunged forward, bashing Delilah into the other wall. “—Off!” The air escaped her lungs in a harsh yowl, but still she clung onto them.

After some searching, she found a small opening for the lacertian’s ears and stuck a sharp claw into both of them.

The lacertian hissed in startled pain and stumbled backwards.

Since Delilah was currently straddling their head, she could see the stairs looming behind them. “Stop!”

The warning came too late—they both tumbled down the stairs.

“Oof—Ouch—Eek!”

Delilah had no choice but to release the minion. She rolled over several times and discovered that cats did not, in fact, always land on their feet. She landed at the bottom of the stairs on her back, legs over her head, staring at a small crowd through her knees.

An orc gently draped a net over her. “Does that count as catching her?”

Another orc shrugged. “It’s good enough.”

They bundled her up in the net and slung the whole package over one shoulder.

Delilah hissed and yowled in displeasure, but there was something different about the noise—something toohuman. Gasping, her hands went to her throat, only to find a bare neck. Her tongue swiped over flat teeth, and when she raised her hands to view, all she saw were dull, round fingernails.

Somewhere in the tussle, she’d lost her collar.

During the commotion, Fitz crammed himself under the desk. His heart pounded as he listened to the yowling and screaming coming from the hallway.

And then, silence.

Who had won the fight? Was it safe to come out? Should he wait until Delilah confirmed the coast was clear? What if more minions came looking forthem?

Something light tickled his neck. He batted at the plant, trying to shove the leaf away.

And then something crawled onto his hand.

Slowly, he lowered his hand into view and saw a black centipede.

The scream ripped from his throat before he could stop it. He was absolutely, under no circumstances, dealing with those damned arthropods again! He shook his hand wildly, trying to knock the creature off. His hand collided with the underside of the desk with a harshthump. The collision shook something free, and dozens of critters fell on top of him.

Fitz scrambled out from under the desk, hitting his back and head in the process. His glasses went flying, immediately getting lost in the weeds of the curse. “Get them off, get them off!” he cried out as he batted wildly at himself and flung the creatures in every direction.

Crunch.

Even with the other plants cushioning the floor, he felt the shape of his glasses under his boot.

“We found you, we found you!” a chorus of high-pitched voices chanted as imps fluttered into the room.

“Oo, and he’s covered in snackies!”

Two clawed fingers reached out and snatched a centipede from Fitz’s hair, gulping it down with a long, wet slurp.

“I prefer the gummy variety,” one of the imps pouted.

“Just get them off!” Fitz shrieked, shimming and wiggling to knock off a few more pests.

Small, colorful hands shot out, quickly stripping the offending creatures off Fitz and gobbling them up. Once he couldn’t feel the long legs anymore, he sighed in relief and looked at the blurry imps in front of him. “Thank you,” he wheezed.

“Thankyou,”a bright pink imp proclaimed. He barely followed their vibrant color as it shifted in and out of his view. Then something white and blue rushed toward him. He only saw the vase two seconds before the imp smashed it over his head.