Chapter 43
I ’d scarcely begun to relish my victory when the witch-woman threw up a hand.
“Either you relinquish your claim on the dragon prince and leave Moonswept at once, or I kill you here and now,” she warned. A black funnel of wind, glittering with deadly shards of magic, sharp as glass, swirled about her hand. “Go, Peddler.”
“Lorna!” Kidron shouted and dove for the Scraggen, intending to grab her hand or arm. As he did, I shouted his name, and in that instant of confusion and threat and motion, the Scraggen flung out her hand. Shiny black magic burst in a deadly gout of flame…directly at the Warkin prince.
“Kidron!” I screamed. My shriek was drowned out by the stupendous roar issuing not from the dragon prince, but the dragon himself.
Instantly, the hall of Moonswept was filled with a tremendous black dragon. His golden eyes gleamed in rage, and he opened his mouth, releasing a roar that shook the timbers over our heads .
“Kidron!” I pleaded, darting in front of him. To my horror, the dragon lowered his head and belched a gust of flame directly at me. I threw myself to the ground, rolling to avoid it, coming up on my hands and knees, hearing the Scraggen laugh.
“Did you think your little cleaning trick would defeat me, Peddler? I know not who you are, but it doesn’t matter. This ends now.”
The witch-woman jerked her hand again, and the dragon’s head bobbed in time to it.
“Kidron,” I pleaded, “stop!”
He couldn’t hear me. The Scraggen had not only morphed him into his dragon, she’d assumed complete control over him. Once more, the beast released a belch of flame that skidded across the stone floor. Bystanders shrieked and dove out of the way. I also dove. This time, I didn’t quite make it in time. The flames snagged my trousers. I yelped, beating at them with my hands even as one of the maids cried,
“Peddler, look out!”
Light preserve me.
I barely had time to think the words before yet another ball of flame assaulted me. Instinct took over, causing me to twist my body and fall to the side. I crawled behind a stone pillar, hearing the Scraggen cackle, “Give up, Peddler! Relinquish the Warkin prince and I’ll save your life.”
“Never!” I shouted back, even as my brain whirled.
What to do? I didn’t think she would unleash Kidron’s full power, either by flame or the beast itself. Although the dragon was under her control, she risked it accidentally consuming Moonswept, so I figured I was safe from that. However, it would hardly take all of the dragon’s might or even a full gout of flame to kill me. I had to think quickly.
“Scraggen,” I shouted, “restrain the dragon. I’ll make you an offer.”
“An offer?” the witch-woman laughed scornfully. “The sole offer I’ll accept from you is relinquishing the Warkin prince.”
“Mother, hear her out,” Atora pleaded. “Perhaps…”
“Perhaps nothing!” her mother snapped. “You brought this on our heads by not doing your part. Useless fool.”
“Scraggen!” I yelled, still hidden behind the pillar, hoping she would not direct Kidron after me. “You’ll wish to hear what I have to say.”
“Just listen, Mother,” Atora said in a very small voice. “What can it hurt? If you dislike the words, kill her.”
“Fine.” Louder, to me, the Scraggen barked, “Very well, Peddler. Let us hear your bargain. Hasten your words. If what I hear displeases me, I’ll unleash the beast.”
Daring myself to be brave, I crept out from behind the pillar and climbed to my feet, facing my enemy.
“Here it is. Shortly,” I replied. “Clothing has brought us to this impasse. Clothing can bring us out of it.”
“That makes no sense,” the Scraggen replied, folding her arms. Her stare was as black as death. I saw hatred on her countenance. Raw and real hatred. I had to hurry before I lost her.
“In my bag,” I responded, holding it up from my hip, “is a gown, crafted of magic. The magic of Kidron’s shirt has made him mine. If you can take the gown and utilize its magic to reclaim him, I’ll renounce my rights to him.”
“How is a gown crafted of magic?” snapped the witch-woman.
“How does a shirt retain the power to break a curse?” I retorted. “This is my challenge to you. Either accept it, or I’ll not surrender the Warkin prince.”
“Mother, I think we should do what she says,” begged Atora, plucking at her mother’s sleeve. “I think… ”
“No one cares what you think, Atora,” snapped her mother, wrenching her arm away. “You are a means to an end. Nothing more.”
To me, the witch-woman said, “Fine. Bring out the gown. I am the Scraggen of Moonswept. What magic could you possibly possess that I cannot trounce?”
Anxiety gripped my heart. What if she was correct? What if my magic was easily unraveled by hers? What if—
Have faith. You’ve come this far.
I felt as though I were stumbling blindly through a nighttime forest, trying to find my way while avoiding rocks and trees and stumps and clefts and hollows. Magic and curses and witchcraft and natural abilities were all new territory for me. Was I making the right decision? I cast a desperate look at Kidron. He could not help me. He was still trapped in his dragon form and clearly beneath the Scraggen’s control. His massive body twitched, his scales glittering with each motion. His great head dipped in agitation, and smoke drifted from his elongated nostrils.
He wishes to eat me, I realized, fear creeping back in. He doesn’t recognize me. Kidron isn’t there at all.
Swinging my focus back to the Scraggen, I said,
“It is simple. All you need do is complete the gown and put it on. Wear it. If you can do that, I’ll forfeit the Dragonkind prince.”
“What sort of foolish wager is that?” sputtered the Scraggen, even as I reached into the pack at my hip and drew out the carefully folded gown.
I shook it out and heard Atora’s soft cry of delight.
“Mother! How lovely. What a regal wedding gown it would make.”
“Aye, a regal wedding gown or a regal gown, worthy of the queen of Moonswept,” I agreed, daring to step closer. I shook it out for all to see, hearing quiet exclamations over its beauty from the female onlookers .
They were impressed. When I dared look at the Scraggen, her piercing emerald gaze was latched onto it too. The lines of her face were set and hard, but I saw something flicker in the depths of her eyes. Greed. Covetousness.
I had planted a seed. She wanted the gown.
I hoped desperately that its magic would hold.