Read Online Moonblood (Tales of Goldstone Wood Book #3) by Anne Elisabeth Stengl - Free Book Online

whole life was a lie now, so what difference did it make? “I made them after winning back my kingdom, under my true name, not in disguise as a . . . as a Fool. As a lackey cleaning the dirty floors of those who should have been my peers! I am not ashamed of any promises I have made to her.”
    The girl reeled back as though he’d struck her. “You are ashamed of those you made to me?”
    “Una—”
    “You are ashamed of me?”
    “Don’t put words in my mouth!” He allowed anger to take over now. Anything to hide the fear and the horror he felt. “I am ashamed of that whole period of my life, that degrading, despicable—”
    “You never fought the Dragon.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    There. He had said it. But even then, he dared not face the truth of it. “And there’s no shame in that,” he growled. “I must do what’s best for my kingdom. That includes not being devoured by monsters. Can you understand that? My people need me alive, not roasted.”
    “You never fought the Dragon.”
    “I told you, Una, sometimes plans change. I’m sorry, but—”
    “It isn’t enough.”
    “I can’t help that!”
    “You never fought the Dragon.”
    “No.” He set his jaw and squared his shoulders. “And I won’t.”
    She looked at him.
    Her lips drew back from her teeth. The gums were red as blood. The teeth were long, sharp fangs.
    Before he could make a sound, she was upon him, striking at him with an arm that was covered in scales and tipped in razor claws. He flung himself to one side, knocking her arm away as he went, and she careened forward, staggering, doubled over in great pain. She heaved as though vomiting, and a great billow of flame spilled from her mouth.
    Fire engulfed the bridge at her feet. Fire filled Lionheart’s vision, surrounding the distorted face of the princess. Then she lost all trace of humanity, and a young dragon stood before him.
    Lionheart screamed and fell flat on the bridge as a spurt of fire lanced the air over his head. Then he pushed himself up on his hands and knees, backing away as the dragon that had been Una rose up on its haunches and black wings arched on either side of its awful face. “Una!” he shouted.
    “You never fought the Dragon.” The monster’s voice was harsh and full of fire, yet he still heard traces of Una deep inside. Smoke rolled between the long fangs, full of dank poison. “Will you fight me now? Will you kill me ?”
    He was paralyzed in her shadow as she loomed over him. Perhaps he tried to scream. Perhaps he tried to move. But his muscles constricted and would not do as he bade them. He lay helpless before her.
    She lowered her head, the fire in her eyes like two ovens melting his face. “Won’t you try, my prince?”
    With a last effort of will, he flung his arms over his head, allowing the cloak to take the brunt of the heat. This small relief gave him the strength he needed to crawl, and he scrambled to escape. But she caught him from behind and pressed him down flat. A gleaming claw grazed his cheek, like a dagger of polished obsidian. The bridge groaned beneath their weight.
    “You killed him,” growled the young dragon, embers spilling between her teeth and searing his face. “You killed my Leonard, Prince Lionheart, killed him cruel as murder. But you won’t fight the Dragon. Coward! ”
    Lionheart relaxed. His death was certain, and he could no longer struggle against her. He lay like a limp doll beneath her claw, waiting for the fire to strike.
    But instead, he heard—like water striking the flames and bursting in cool relief across his mind—birdsong. And in that instant between life and death, he heard words in the song:
    I am coming for you.
    Wait for me.
    The song struck them both with the sharpness of a sword. The dragon raised her head and roared, bellowing flames and agony to the frozen sky. Then black wings tore the air, lifting the monster from the bridge and carrying her off into cold, iron clouds.
    So he would live