‘Murderous Poetry’
Crouching down even further, he extended his sensory magic into the tower room. Maybe a secret to be sniffed out here, tasted, unravelled by his superior draconic intellect?
“We have ways to make you obey,” threatened the male.
Ooh, suitably malicious.
“King Tyloric, you can threaten me until you’re blue in the face. I’ll never marry your son.”
Fascinating. He had read Humans went blue if they stayed underwater for too long; much more quickly if one stepped carefully upon their chests. He had never tried, but one or two of his relatives had experimented and found these two-legged cockroaches to be disturbingly fragile. One could play with a scuttling insect, but not for very long. He would have to be extra careful not to break this Princess when he –
“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” she added. Her voice was not as sweet as legends about Princesses claimed. More … husky, as if a fire’s own embers took voice to speak. Rightly, scorn dripped from her lips like fat from a tasty chunk of mutton, as she explained, “Prince Floric is physically handsome, but he really is quite deficient in all matters above the shoulders. Plus, he reeks. That is a most undesirable combination in a man.”
“Father! Are you going to let her speak to me like that?”
Oh! The other whiner was present in the room. Even worse than the father. His spoiled, wheedling voice made Blitz see white. Clearly, that cretin needed a good, permanent Dragon slap.
Unfortunately, as a Dragon who had never pillaged so much as a cattle shelter in his twenty years of life, he had never had the pleasure of smacking an armed Human. Not even a gentle tap upon the noggin. Blitz’s Dragon senses delved deeper, testing the hearts of these men. Treachery. Foul ambition. The bitter tangs of immoral intent. This sire and his son did not mean this Princess well. He doubted they even meant to ransom her.
Double blergh.
What was he even doing listening to their disgusting hearts? Come the opportune moment, he must peel this tower apart and snatch her away to a far wickeder fate.
Blitz licked his chops. He could practically taste the gold this Princess would earn him.
Just now, the King said, “Convince her, Floric.”
Chains jingled slightly as she tested her captivity. Blitz crouched without moving a muscle. Eavesdropping. Wondering how under the double suns he would contrive to remove the Princess from this high tower without ending up looking like an overgrown porcupine. Javelins and arrows made him shudder. Thick Dragon hide could do only so much against the powerful crossbows these restless fleas preferred. Great stopping power. Capable of drilling nice holes into the thickest Dragon hide.
In a high, intensely irritating voice, the young Prince declaimed, “O thou dusky desert beauty, how well thou art named! Thou art the Black Rose of the Desert indeed! Thy skin is as the raiment of the night’s own starry garb. I, Prince Floric of Vanrace, shall woo thee –”
She chuckled “I doubt that.”
Blitz did not think so either. He desperately wanted to clean out his ear canals with a talon. That voice! Put in a forest, Floric’s poetry would have murdered the local wildlife.
Thanks for sharing!
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