The Pitchfork of Destiny Read Online Free PDF Page B

away.
    The dragon opened its jaws and roared—­an earsplitting sound that brought Elle to her knees in sobs of terror. As the hot, sulfurous breath of the dragon surrounded her, Elle closed her eyes, whispered a goodbye to Will, and prepared herself for death.
    Nothing happened.
    Elle was still alive. She opened her eyes and saw that the dragon had withdrawn to the balcony. It perched there, talons gripping the stone, seemingly relaxed, despite the sound of arrows plinking off its scales. The monster was absently scratching something into the balcony stone. Elle was reminded of a cat playing with its food.
    Nonetheless, she took this respite to examine her situation. She was alive—­that was certainly a plus. She was mostly uninjured, with nothing but a few cuts, scratches, and bruises—­again definitely a good thing. It appeared that the dragon could not actually reach her, which she realized might account for her first two observations, or that she was still observing at all. And then Elle remembered the most important thing of all—­the door was on her side of the room and only about twenty feet away. If she could make it there . . .
    â€œHave you worked it out yet?” the dragon asked in a deep voice that was tinged with an oddly archaic but certainly cultured accent.
    â€œWh—­what?” Elle choked, her mind still trying to grasp that she was now talking with a dragon.
    â€œHave you worked out that I cannot reach you and that your escape lies but a few feet away?” He (for she decided that anything with a voice like that must be a he) said with an arch of his plated brow and accompanied by what she could only describe as a wry smile.
    â€œUmmm,” Elle intoned noncommittally. She refused to acknowledge that this had been her exact thought because she was not sure whether the admission would lead to her immediate and fiery death. The dragon could probably incinerate her and everything else in the room—­including her dress—­anytime he wanted.
    â€œI see,” the dragon said with a sigh. “You have already reached the next stage of understanding, namely that I could burn you to a cinder if you tried to escape. We seem to be at a bit of an impasse. What are we to do?”
    Elle bit back the snarky answer she wanted to give, which was that this was his show, and asking her for a solution was not particularly good form. Instead, she said, “We could call it a draw and go our separate ways?”
    The dragon shook its impressive head. “No, I’m sorry, I must leave here with you—­preferably alive.”
    â€œWhy?” she asked, realizing that if she was talking with the dragon, that meant she wasn’t being eaten or burnt up by said dragon.
    â€œI don’t have enough time to give you a full answer. I am afraid your betrothed and . . .” The dragon cocked its head to one side as though listening “ . . . at least a score of his knights are mere moments away from reaching your door.”
    As if on cue, Elle heard the sound of dozens of feet pounding in the courtyard outside. Hope bloomed. Will would save her. He would lead his knights up the tower to her and drive the dragon away. All she had to do was keep the beast from doing something hasty and nasty for a few minutes more. She glanced at the door and saw that she had latched the bolt the night before—­something she had done to keep Will from walking in and seeing her dress before their wedding day.
    â€œDamn,” she hissed, then silently added several more colorful curses about stupid wedding traditions.
    â€œYes, I noticed that the door was bolted myself,” the dragon said dryly. “Unusual for a lady of your position, as it makes it difficult for the lady’s maid to attend. However, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think that door, as heavy as it is, will keep the King or his men from