Redeeming the Dragon (Into the Enchanted)

Chapter 44

“ L ovely, is it not?” I asked, half-taunting the Scraggen, trying to coax her into taking my bait, even as a fisherman coaxes the fish to accept the worm on the hook. “I daresay, m’lady, that it befits the great Scaggen of Moonswept, even if crafted by my humble hands.”

She sniffed. “It is not so much.”

“Not so much? Mother, if you’ll not have it, I will,” Atora pressed at her mother’s elbow. “Whoever I wed, the dragon prince or not, fancy how noble I’d be!”

“Be silent!” her mother hissed. “Do not forget this is bait. There is a challenge involved.”

“There is a challenge,” I agreed. “But you are the great Scraggen of Moonswept. How much of a challenge could it be to finish a simple gown?”

“Aye, Mother. How much of a challenge—”

“Silence!” Again, the Scraggen savagely hushed her daughter. “Let me think, you whining brat.”

Atora’s face crumpled at the cruel words. Again, my heart was stung with pity. From what little I’d seen of their dynamic, she’d probably been both overindulged and cruelly misused. She’d been raised covetous but was also accustomed to being kicked aside like an unwanted pet when she bothered her mother too much. How grievous. My parents had certainly made their mistakes, yet I could not imagine growing up in the shadow of such treatment.

Inwardly, I seethed, imagining Kidron trapped in this noxious environment, wedged between these two women.

No. It shall not be.

“All you need do is finish it,” I taunted, lifting the gown and turning it this way and that so its elegant skirt swished out grandly. “Not much remains. The hemming. The sleeves. A few threads here and there…”

“I can see that, Peddler,” barked the Scraggen. “I have eyes. Very well. I’ll accept your challenge. Bring me the gown.”

Truthfully, I hesitated to approach her, fearing what she had in mind. I hoped one of the guards might fetch it. They stood frozen, not daring to risk her wrath.

Well, there was nothing for it. Mustering up my courage, I stepped forward and handed her the blue gown, then scurried backward a couple of steps like a frightened mouse, lest she attempt to grab me or strangle me with her magic or anything of the sort. She saw my wariness and smirked, but attempted nothing out of the way. Instead, she lifted the gown by its straps—to which I’d not yet attached the cap sleeves—and twisted it this way and that, obviously admiring it, albeit I’m sure she would rather I not see her interest.

“It is lovely,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Finishing it should be a simple task,” Atora put in helpfully, reaching out to stroke it with a forefinger. “I will put it on and model it for you, Mother. ”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Her mother snatched the dress from her daughter’s touch. “If there is magic involved, I’ll not risk it on you.”

Perhaps she possessed more motherly instinct than I’d credited her for. Either that, or she did not wish to share with her daughter.

Regardless, with a flick of her wrists, a swish of color, and a shimmer of magic like a rainbow, the gown that was in her hands reappeared on her body.

“It fits well in some places and needs adjustment in others,” she observed, looking down at herself, smoothing the skirts with her hands. “It is beautiful.” Her hooded gaze flickered up to me. “There is clearly a catch here, Peddler, but I’ll defeat you. I’ll finish the gown right now.”

Could she?

Swallowing down trepidation, I folded my arms across my chest, trying to appear confident in the face of her magical capabilities, my own new and dubious grasp on magic, and an angry dragon that wished to devour me. An angry dragon who was also the man I loved in a cursed form, but that was beside the point.

“Go ahead then,” I challenged. “Prove your talent.”

“Foolish girl,” she spat, stalking towards me like an angry cat. “My talent surrounds you. See here Moonswept, carved from the mountains and the moon by my magic in a place east of the sun, west of the moon. A place that cannot even be reached except by magic.”

“And yet, I reached it,” I said, hoping my deliberate calmness would provoke her. “I, who am truly nothing.”

Her glare told me I was treading the edge of her patience. Good. Emboldened, I said, “You are the mighty Scraggen of Moonswept, and I am merely Lorna from the Jeweled Isles. No one. Nothing. Yet I have redeemed the Dragonkind prince from you. Here is your chance, m’lady, to claim him back. Will you take it?”