Strabo settled earthward with a flapping of wings that knocked Mistaya and her captors to their knees and then landed with such force that the earth shook in protest. The dragon glared as it folded its massive wings against its sides and showed all of its considerable teeth in row after blackened row.
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear, Princess!” he snarled. “Was my warning too vague for you to understand?”
“It was perfectly clear,” she replied. “You said if I used magic to create an image of you again, especially if it was to frighten someone, you would pay me a visit much quicker than I would like.”
“Yet you did so anyway?” The dragon swung his triangular head from side to side in dismay. “What do I have to do to convince you that I am serious? Eat you?”
She held up her hands, encased in the swirling ball of mist. “I took a chance that you were as good as your word. I needed someone to help me, and I couldn’t think of anyone more capable. So I deliberately made an image of you so that you would come, and here you are!”
She said it with great satisfaction. She couldn’t help herself. Her plan had worked exactly as she had hoped, and now she had a chance to get free from His Eminence and Laphroig for good.
The dragon looked at her magically shackled hands and hissed. “What is this?” he demanded, looking now at her captors, his great brow darkening. “Have you done this?”
Well, there was no good answer to that particular question, and neither His Eminence nor Laphroig tried to offer one. They just stood there, staring in horror at all those teeth.
“They are holding me prisoner and trying to marry me off against my will,” she declared. “To Berwyn Laphroig!”
The dragon hissed at the accused. “You are forcing her to marry you, Lord of Rhyndweir?”
“No! Not at all! She’s doing so voluntarily!” Laphroig was grasping at straws. “She loves me!”
Strabo breathed on him, and the combination of stench and heat knocked him from a guarded crouch to his hands and knees, gasping for fresh air. “It doesn’t sound like it to me. Set her free at once.”
“I can’t!” sobbed Laphroig. “He did it!” His trembling hand pointed toward His Eminence. “It’s his magic that binds her!”
The dragon shifted his gaze to Crabbit, who held up his hands defensively. “All right, all right, I’ll release her. She’s more trouble than she’s worth, in any case.”
He made a few gestures, spoke a few words, and the swirling mist dissipated. Mistaya was free once more.
Strabo bent close to Laphroig and His Eminence. “I’ve a good mind to eat you both. A snack would do me good after flying all this way to straighten you out. What do you think of that?”
“I think I would be most grateful if you only ate him,” His Eminence replied, gesturing at Laphroig. “This was all his idea.”
“Liar!” screamed Laphroig. “You were the one who—”
“You both agreed to this marriage idea,” Mistaya pointed out. “I don’t think either of you should try to blame the other.”
“It isn’t a good idea to force young girls to marry,” Strabo lectured, looking from one man to the other. “Marriage, in general, isn’t a particularly desirable institution. It causes all sorts of trouble, from what I have observed over the centuries. In any case, a Princess shouldn’t marry this young, the issue of the advisability of marriage aside. She should be free to grow up and spend time with more interesting creatures than prospective husbands. Dragons, for instance. We’re much more interesting than you, Laphroig. Or you, Craswell. So be warned. If I hear of any further attempts at forcing this girl to marry either one of you or anyone you know or even anyone I think you know, I will not be so lenient.”
His Eminence and Rhyndweir’s Lord nodded eagerly, babbling their understanding in a jumble of hurried promises.
Strabo backed away a few yards, still watching them. “I don’t know. I’m awfully hungry. Eating you now would solve a great number of potential problems later.”
Mistaya didn’t want that to happen quite yet, so she stepped forward quickly. “I wonder if I could ask one further favor. An associate of His Eminence is holding my friend Thom prisoner, too. Can he be released, as well?”
Strabo licked his chops as he nodded. “Have her friend brought to me right away, Crabbit.”
His Eminence looked as if he might implode, but he turned to the building and shouted for Rufus Pinch to produce Thom. Laphroig still didn’t know who they were talking about, but as soon as Thom appeared, sliding past him quickly to stand next to Mistaya, he turned purple with rage and screamed a long string of bad words that don’t bear repeating.
“You knew about this, Crabbit! You knew, and you kept it from me! You will pay for this, I promise you.” He wheeled on Thom. “As for you, I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll hunt you down once this is finished, no matter how long it takes, and when I find you—”
“You won’t do anything, if you’re inside Strabo’s belly,” Mistaya pointed out smugly.
But all of a sudden Strabo reared up and wheeled away, his attention diverted. “What’s that I smell?” he growled.
They all looked and saw a handful of mounted knights racing away across the hills, trying unsuccessfully to escape notice. Apparently, they had recovered from their earlier fright and finding themselves on the wrong side of escape had decided to circle back north and try to slip past the dragon.
“Oh, my favorites!” Strabo enthused. “Crunchy on the outside and chewy on the inside. And all that iron is fuel for my inner child.” He glanced at Mistaya. “I have to go now, Princess. I need a snack after all that flying. Good luck to you.”
He wheeled away, spread his wings, and soared off into the sky, Mistaya and her captors forgotten in an instant. Already they could hear the rumble of his internal furnace as the bellows heated the flames to cooking temperature.
Mistaya was so shocked by the dragon’s abrupt and unexpected departure that for a moment she just stood there. How could he leave like that, right in the middle of rescuing her?
Then Laphroig looked over at her and His Eminence did the same, and she realized how much danger she was in.
She brought up her hands in a warding motion. “Don’t even think about it. This wedding is over. Just stay right where you are. I’m not your prisoner now, and if you try to make me one, I’ll fry you where you stand.”
“I think that it is dragons who fry people, Princess,” His Eminence purred, his fingers flexing. “In any case, you are no match for me, free or not. You are young and inexperienced, and you are alone. Thom can’t help you, either. His brother will see to him while I see to you.”
The oblong head bobbed and a smile played across the odd face. “I would let you go if I didn’t think you already knew too much for your own good. Best if you come back inside and remain as my guest until your father gets here.”
Mistaya kept one eye on his hands, the other on Laphroig. “My father isn’t coming. Didn’t you know?”
“Oh, I think maybe he is. I sent him a message.”
She didn’t know if he was lying or not, but it wasn’t something she wanted to chance. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not helping you trap my father by staying. We’re leaving.”
Laphroig stepped forward quickly. “You’ll leave when I say you can leave, you little snot-nosed whelp! You’re mine, wedding or not, and I will do with you as I wish. By the time the dragon finds out what’s been done, it will be too late. Crabbit, I will deal with you and your lying ways later. For now, bind her hands and my brother’s, too, and get out of my way.”