The shaking became worse and Rhona was forced to set her down, stretching her out on the floor, and pressing her hands against the female’s shoulders. Gods, she hoped the She-dragon didn’t shift. These dungeons had not been built for a dragon to shift to natural form.
“Rhona, come on!” Brannie yel ed. Rhona could hear that her cousin was stil fighting in the hal way around the corner.
“Hold the line!” Rhona ordered Brannie. “We’l be right—”
A strong hand closed around Rhona’s throat and squeezed, cutting off her air and risking bones she’d become rather fond of.
Rhona punched at the hand and arm holding her, but the royal ignored al that as she slowly got to her feet.
The female studied Rhona like some offending mouse she’d found in her room, looking her over from head to foot.
“My brother sent you to rescue me?”
Rhona, unable to get this female off her without cutting her open from bel y to throat—which would only make the whole trip a bit of a waste—
pointed toward the exit.
The royal’s head turned a bit and she listened.
“You’re not alone. Good.”
She dropped Rhona to the ground and stepped over her as if she was someone else’s trash on the street. Gods, Rhona never thought she’d find royals more ungrateful than her own, but she’d been quite wrong.
Rhona jumped to her feet and went after the royal, ignoring her sore neck.
The She-dragon walked down the smal hal way until she reached the turn where Brannie was doing an excel ent job of keeping the guards at bay.
She was fighting off four at once when the royal walked up behind her, caught Brannie by the hair, and yanked her out of the way.
The royal stepped in front of the Irons, her back straight, her swol en eyes open and clear.
“You,” one of the Irons whispered. Then he screamed, “Gods above, she’s free! ” Rhona didn’t like the sound of that, but there was nothing she could do now as the She-dragon smiled a bit, took in a smal breath, and while stil in human form unleashed the most brutal and widespread flame that Rhona had ever seen. Sounding like hurricane winds coming in off the sea, the white-hot blast fil ed the room and, Rhona could see, melted stone and metal while covering the Iron dragons in the hal way. The flame was so bad that Rhona instinctively grabbed her cousin and covered her with her own body.
When the sounds of those flames died, Rhona lifted her head. The She-dragon stood there before the remains of dragons whose armor had been melted into their human forms, kil ing them instantly. As fel ow Fire Breathers that should never be a problem when dealing with flame.
The royal looked at Rhona over her shoulder, and Rhona yanked her spear from Brannie’s hand and faced her while stil protecting her cousin.
The She-dragon ignored that and said, “Come. We must go. And quickly. Before this lot starts shifting back. I’ve damaged the stone columns....
The base wil crumble now and cave in the entire arena.”
“I have to get my comrades.”
“Comrades?”
“Aye. In order to distract Vateria so we could get you, our friends are fighting in the arena.”
“Trust me. That won’t distract my cousin for one bit, which is why we need to go now. Besides, your comrades are a lost cause if they’re in the arena.”
From behind her, Brannie said, “I’m not leaving Izzy, Rhona. She’d never leave me.” The royal stopped. “She? You put females in the pit?”
“They were the only ones among us that were human.”
“I see.” The royal began walking. “Then, if they haven’t already been raped to death and eaten, I suggest we go get your friends now.”
“Uh . . . Rhona?”
“I know, I know. But we fol ow the plan. We fol ow our orders.”
“Doesn’t the royal outrank us, though?” Brannie whispered.
“She’s not our royal. Now come on. We need to give Vigholf the signal.” Vigholf tried again to get the gods-damn bars off the gods-damn grate, but they weren’t moving. So, like some wretched human male, he was forced to watch as Annwyl got tossed around the arena like a toy and Izzy earned boos because she was a fast runner and dodger. But how much longer could they keep it up? And where the bloody hel s was Rhona?
Annwyl was backhanded and sent flying. She hit the arena wal and slid down. One of the ogres picked her up and dragged her back to the center. He threw her down, flat on her back, and raised his club over her.
“Now!” Brannie barked as she ran past him, hardcharging right for the exit so she could begin clearing the way of soldiers.
“Now!” Vigholf yel ed into the arena, unable to do anything but watch that club, already in mid-swing, come down at Annwyl’s head.
Annwyl heard Vigholf’s yel and relieved because she was fed up with playing nice, she rol ed to her side. The club slammed into the ground beside her as Annwyl got to her feet.
The ogre, not the brightest of breeds, stared at her, mouth open and ew—there was drool. Annwyl hated when things drooled! Disgusted beyond al reckoning, Annwyl quickly pul ed the smal steel stick Rhona had made for her, prayed the blacksmith’s daughter was as good as Vigholf had bragged, and watched the stick extend into the long-handled ax she’d thought of.
Pleased, Annwyl brought the ax up and over, burying it into the side of the ogre’s neck. It screeched and Annwyl put her foot on its chest and pushed, while yanking the ax out. Another ogre came at her from behind, but she quickly spun and hacked off its head, spun back, and finished off the other one by splitting its skul into two.