Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
“Um . . .” I said slowly, really wishing I hadn’t promised to be completely honest and upfront. “Granny was able to procure a journal from this kingdom. From the court, actually. It helped immensely.”
“One of my journals?” the queen said, her eyes darkening with anger. Power surged through the room.
Fuck, dragons were scary.
I impressed myself with my steady tone. “Not yours, per se. Someone who was learning di-directly from y-you.” Well, almost.
“She stole one of our journals to help you make drugs?” the queen said.
“Yes. It worked.”
She shook her head, mystified. “Do you feel bad about any of this? For the part you played in killing people?”
I felt my spine straighten of its own accord. Weston and Hadriel both stiffened.
“My product does not kill people,” I replied. “It is habit forming for some, but it is not chemically addictive. You can see the differences in my product and what ends up in the markets. Granny’s coating—apparently added to make it look like candy—is what’s harmful. The only purpose I can imagine it serves has to be the addictive quality, but it’s not a good business plan to make people sick. The actual journey—the high—is the part I make.”
“How do you know what the coating does if you didn’t have a hand in making it?”
“Because, apparently unlike you with that truth-telling elixir, I sampled the product to know what it does and how the body reacts. I took several of Granny’s products, enough to addict me and to kill me if it wasn’t for Weston. I made note of every effect. I am now intimately acquainted with how it works.”
“How and where did you get several of them if they weren’t created in your village?”
My stomach clenched. I knew my escape that one night from camp was a dereliction of Weston’s duty. He’d done it to help me. I wouldn’t repay that kindness by tattling on him.
I lifted my chin defiantly. “I don’t want to say where or how or why. It’s enough to know that I took them to figure out how they were altered from what I routinely turn in, which is what is in those crates.”
The king leaned forward, his voice a rough growl. “I can make you say where and how and why.”
Weston stiffened. This time I didn’t, nor did I hunch. Fuck that guy. Pain wouldn’t make me bend, and they probably planned on killing me, anyway. The queen, at least, didn’t seem overly interested in pardoning me because of my upbringing. Fine, so be it. But I would not allow Weston to go down with me. I drew the line at making others suffer for my sins.
I met that menacing golden gaze and said, “All due respect, dragon, no you cannot. I do not break under torture, and I no longer fear death. Do your worst.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vemar puff out his chest, nodding in what seemed like approval. It seemed I had something in common with the mad dragon. I liked him more for it.
“She’s protecting someone,” Hannon said, watching me closely.
Weston’s head jerked my way, and I realized belatedly he’d been staring at the king, his body tense. Now his gaze probed mine before realization dawned. The tender warmth coming through the bond momentarily stole my breath.
“It’s me,” he told the royals, his tone concealing his emotions. “She’s trying to protect me.” Now it softened as he spoke to me. “I already told them I knew you planned to drug me and that I let you do it.” He turned back to the royals. “She bought Granny’s product with the gold I gave her.”
I clenched my jaw, unhappy that he was putting himself into harm’s way on my behalf, but I didn’t say anything. If things got worse, I’d find a way to excuse him of any wrongdoing. I assumed the dragons would be all too happy to take their grievances out on Granny’s drugmaker rather than their prized commander.
“How did you know which product was Granny’s?” the queen asked me.
I huffed, running my fingers through my hair. I explained about the design, unable to keep my anger in check.
“She didn’t even change the fucking wings! It looks utterly absurd. Fairy wings on a butterfly? Ridiculous. It would’ve been a simple fix, not to mention I did that drawing when I was a kid. I can draw one so much better now.”
The woman off to the side of the king—the one with beautiful blond-white hair so light it nearly matched my streaks, and flawless, radiant skin—spoke for the first time.
“The middle was originally a fairy?” Her voice was clear and pleasant even though she was visibly annoyed. “Why?”
I felt my face redden. I suddenly found myself really hating this interrogation. I hadn’t realized parts would be so embarrassing.