The (Not) Satisfied Dragon - Colette Rhodes Page 0,99

took a deep breath, knowing I had to continue like I had taken the angel root tincture and the words were being ripped out of me against my will. Not just continue, I had to lay it all on the table.

Once upon a time, there was a gold dragon who would have given her life in exchange for her revenge. I wasn’t that gold dragon anymore. I had too much to live for. I had love. I had dreams. I had everything to fight for.

“Flight Milain took me with them, back to their den. I was a gift to their gold dragon, Odessa. A slave.”

There were no shouts of outrage now. The exposed rocky outcrop suddenly felt too small, too contained. The silence was broken only by the crashing waves and whistling wind, and even that was unnaturally quiet. I embedded my nails in my palms as panic bubbled in my chest, strangling the air in my lungs.

//Breathe, my love.// I gasped a harsh lungful of air at Ezra’s command, making the tightness in my throat flare painfully.

//Stay with us, rebel. We are right here,// Oren rumbled.

“Impossible,” Nerio whispered. “We would have known. Someone would have known.”

“For eight years, I did not leave the den,” I continued, cursing the shakiness of my voice. “I slept in the bathroom, which Julian sealed shut each night with his earth magic. They caved in the escape tunnel the day after I arrived. You can verify that for yourselves.”

Under the guise of being “forced” to speak by the “angel root tincture,” I felt free to speak honestly for the first time, perhaps ever. There was no fear of judgment or embarrassment holding me back because I was just reciting the factual truth.

“I have been tortured, burned, cut, beaten and whipped. Held underwater until I thought I’d never breathe again. From the ages of eight to sixteen, that was my life.”

//Shira...// That single word echoed in my head. Maybe it was from one of them. Maybe it was all of them. One word, two syllables, that held a world of heartache. My pain was theirs because they loved me. Because they wanted it to be. I knew without a doubt, if they could, they’d take each wound, each scar, each tear I’d shed, because I would unquestionably do the same for them.

“That is absurd,” Nerio choked out, eyes bulging somewhat manically out of his head. At any other time, the visual would have been funny.

“Is it?” Ilia challenged. “Doesn’t sound all that absurd to me. The idea that a mysterious, powerful flight appeared out of nowhere, murdered every flight on Glasdon Mountain except for Flight Milain is ludicrous.”

“You believe this… this… slander. You believe that fellow Councilors would murder flights of dragons and keep a child as a slave?” Nerio blustered.

“You don’t? You’re the one that insisted she have the angel root tincture,” Uri cut in, glaring at Nerio. “She’s obviously not lying.”

“Councilors,” a voice boomed out from the edge of the stand I didn’t recognize. “I assume you will call witnesses.”

“Micah?” Nerio asked in surprise, doing a double take.

Micah. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Micah took a step forward onto the floor into my eyeline. My breath caught in my throat as he got closer. He looked so much like Reuel. I thought I might throw up despite my empty stomach.

//Micah is Flight Milain’s son. His flight were Enforcers twelve years ago and charged with investigating the attack on Glasdon Mountain,// Ezra explained, filling in the gaps.

By the gods, now I remembered. It was Micah who had rescued Xander. His flight had nursed my little brother back to health.

“Uh, well, this is unexpected,” Nerio stammered, looking surprised.

“Given that my flight was charged with investigating and clearing the mountain after the attack in our role as Enforcers, I wouldn’t think it would be so surprising,” Micah replied wryly, coming to a stop next to me. I tensed up instantly. I knew he’d been good to Xander, but I didn’t trust him at all.

Though, none of Flight Milain’s children had visited them while they had held me prisoner in their den. I didn’t know if it was because their children didn’t want to, or if they hadn’t been welcome.

“This trial isn’t an investigation into the attack on Glasdon Mountain,” Nerio shot back defensively. “That was resolved twelve years ago.”

“Was it?” Micah challenged. “Considering the perpetrators walked free, I would argue not. In fact, they didn’t just walk free, they served on the Council for over