Hidden Dragon (The Treasure of Paragon Book 7) Genevieve Jack (best sci fi novels of all time .TXT) 📖

Avery glanced back at Xavier. “He’s too quiet, Sylas!”

Dianthe rushed forward and pressed her hand to Xavier’s wound. “I have him, Avery. He’s breathing. Get the orb and we’ll take him home.”

Avery sliced down the center of the trunk. Sylas held his breath. Was Aborella’s vision accurate? It was possible this whole thing was a trap. She might have hoped Skelna would wipe them out. He wouldn’t put it past the fairy.

But as Avery pried the log apart, they all gagged.

“Stomach. Intestines,” Nathaniel said. “What was this creature?”

Avery sliced open the stomach to the mutual groans of the others. There, inside the gory pit of the thing, was the blue orb, twinkling up at them like a hidden treasure.

“By the Mountain, that is nasty business,” Nathaniel said.

Sylas gave him a slanted look and snorted before reaching in and pulling the crystal from the thing’s bowels.

“You mess with my mate, you mess with me.” Avery twisted her blade before removing it from Skelna’s remains.

“Avery, you’re bleeding!” Dianthe exclaimed.

Avery glanced down at her arm and blinked. “Oh. It must have gotten me.”

Sylas saw it now too. Skelna had torn through her parka at her forearm and blood had soaked through the inner fluff.

Clarissa pressed her hand to Avery’s wound. “We need to find a healer. You’ve had Xavier’s tooth, right? It’s just a cut. It will heal soon.”

But Sylas wasn’t so sure. Xavier’s wound was oozing a strange, poisonous green, and he was still unconscious although breathing evenly.

“Actually, no.” Avery cracked her neck. “I’m immune to magic. He tried to give me his tooth, but every time I put it into my mouth, it turned back into an actual dragon’s tooth. No way to swallow that sucker.”

“Oh Avery…” Clarissa frowned.

Sylas winced. For all intents and purposes, that meant Avery was human. “It may have saved your life,” he said. “The poison affected Xavier immediately. Aside from the bleeding, you look fine.”

“I feel fine. I just need a few stitches, I’m guessing.” Avery shrugged off her sister’s grip and dropped to Xavier’s side. “But what about Xavier? He needs help.”

“Nathaniel, can you get us back to Aeaea?” Sylas asked.

“Possibly,” he said through his teeth. “I can’t simply tear a portal between realms. Clarissa, Avery, and I need to teleport everyone. It’s heavy magical work, and we’re all exhausted. Xavier isn’t even conscious. Avery is hurt. I’m not sure we have enough juice to get us there.”

“Sylas, Xavier’s lips are turning blue,” Avery yelled. “We need to find help.”

Sylas wanted to punch something. He was their leader. He needed to do something, but what? A frustrated growl tore through his chest, making the frozen branches around them tinkle like wind chimes.

The sound of barking dogs called Sylas’s attention to the dark mountain ridge that bordered the Ice Forest. A sled rushed toward them, pulled by a team of tall and lanky canines with long, shaggy hair, eyes that glowed red, and wolfish teeth. The person guiding the sled was too swaddled in furs for Sylas to tell if it was a man or a woman.

Avery stood from her mate and drew her sword, blood dripping from her wound and sizzling on the ice. Sylas, Nathaniel, and Clarissa stepped to her side, protectively blocking Dianthe and Xavier. The sled came to a stop in front of them.

“Tell the girl to put her sword away, Sylas. I prefer not to be threatened when I’m offering aid.” The hood swept back from a round, red-cheeked face with a bulbous nose.

Sylas rushed forward and embraced the innkeeper, his chest flooding with relief. “Zander Wraithwing! Mountain, am I glad to see you!”

Chapter Thirty-One

Eleanor, empress of Paragon, was not used to losing. Since she’d advanced to practicing dark magic, she rarely had to compromise and almost always got her way. Everfield, for example, had finally fallen. Just yesterday, Chancellor Ciro, unable to rebuild after the loss of the Empyrean Wood, had finally steered Everfield’s Highborn representatives to vote to become Paragonian citizens. Of course, everyone expected that the population of Everfield might resist this decision once they heard the news, but it didn’t really matter. The fairies had no power and thus no choices.

Power was important.

Power was what allowed her to tear through the Palace of Nightfall while the citizens of Nochtbend slept. Although they’d made threats of retaliation, Master Demidicus knew as well as she did that a society of vampires could never best an army of dragons. Dragons didn’t sleep during the day. Didn’t have to sleep much at all, to be sure. A few hours a week would suffice. And a dragon’s ability to breathe fire was surely a bane to vampires, who could die of burning. Immortal vampires might be, but they were remarkably fragile during the day.

No, Eleanor was not used to losing, which was why she’d screamed when she’d found Aborella gone, taken from her cage in the tower. She’d smelled Sylas in that room and someone else, a fairy. She should have killed her son when she’d had the chance. Should have bathed in his blood. Not only had he taken her seer, but he’d also destroyed the mosaic in the floor of the veranda. Why, she wasn’t sure yet, but it gave her a terrible feeling that her son was one step ahead of her.

Still, she’d had the bond. She’d tugged on her connection to Aborella, tracking it to somewhere in the mountains of Darnuith. Ransom had prepared a small task force to track the fairy down. He’d sent a falcon to the witch queen, asking for permission to retrieve her seer. She knew better than to pick a fight with the witches now. It was too early in the game for such a brazen move.

But before she received a response, the bond went slack. Eleanor cried out at the emptiness left behind. Perched on her throne, she gripped her chest and howled at the pain. Aborella was dead. Nothing short of death could break a dragon’s