There was nothing but the rustling of the wind as it gently stirred the leaves. That was it: she had to risk shifting.
She rolled her shoulders back, reaching for her shift form—
And felt something hard and sharp bite into the base of her spine.
Iz froze, her muscles locking up.
It wasn’t fear—even though she was as scared as she’d ever been in her life. This was something else. It was like her body had suddenly turned into a sack of cement, her limbs heavy and useless. Even her breath seemed to have slowed down, barely trickling in and out of her nose.
There was a warm chuckle right up against her ear.
“Now,” Randolph Sebastian said, “youarean interesting little specimen, aren’t you?”
Iz tried to answer him—derisively—but all that came out was a sick-sounding moan.
“This is an interesting specimen too.” He pressed the sharp barb further into her. It hurt, almost like it was scalding her, but the pain wasn’t as bad as the paralysis that seemed to come with it. “A fang from a basilisk-wyvern hybrid. The poison in its bite will turn you to stone—well, metaphorically. First paralysis, then death. All I have to do is press a little harder, and what you’re feeling right now will seem like the gentle touch of a feather.”
He pulled the fang back just enough for her to take in a noisy gasp of air. Her chest heaved as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating.
His voice was darker now, less deliberately playful:
“Who are you?”
“Deputy Marshal Benoit.”
“And a dragon,” he said silkily. “You told me that much. Benoit. I haven’t heard of your family.”
Well, that was really uncalled for. The Benoits were a perfectly well-known family in a lot of circles.
“What’s your first name?” He pressed the fang against her again, giving her no choice but to answer. But she wasn’t going to tell him her nickname, the name she’d actually picked for herself. Herfriendscalled her Iz.
“Isabelle.”
“Isabelle. I’m Randolph.”
“I know,” she said through her teeth.
I know, and I don’t want to be on a first-name basis with you.
“But you don’t know where you’re going now,” Randolph Sebastian said. “And I do.”
With the fang still poised at the small of her back, he shoved her forward. Her whole body was still almost asleep, making her trip over her own feet as he pushed her along. Her clumsiness was getting her all scraped up, but she had the feeling that was the least of her problems.
They were traveling down a slope, Iz was pretty sure: she had a hard time judging with her limbs so numb and her sense of balance so off, but she thought they were. She kept seeing faint silvery markings on the trees, like they were reflecting little bits of moonlight, and then she realized what they were.
There’s a trail. It’s faint, but it’s there. He’s marked it with something so he doesn’t lose his way.
There was something depressing about that—it meant that the forest was so dark and hard to navigate that even Sebastian, who must be in and out of it all the time, had trouble finding his way—but it was still a clue. She could follow the silver markings back to the clearing and take off there, if she could get away from him. If her team came to investigate her disappearance, there was a chance they would see the markings too and figure out that they should follow them.
If they got to the right clearing in the first place. And if the markings were even visible to non-dragons.
Why hadn’t shewaited?
We couldn’t afford to wait,her dragon snarled.
Well, look what your plan has done for us,Iz said.
But she didn’t know the half of it. After another minute of tripping over her own feet and slip-sliding down the slope, Sebastian turned them around until they were facing the hill.