We Three Heroes (The Medoran Chronicles, #4.5) by Lynette Noni Read Online (FREE)
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Delucia was dreaming again.
Tonight, it was a good dream. She was flying on the back of a mythical draekon, high up in the sky, the sun bathing her skin and reflecting off the crimson scales beneath her.
Glancing down, she could see the whole of Tryllin laid out, from the harbour all the way up to the palace and beyond. If she squinted past the glow of the shining city, she could almost see the balcony of her bedroom jutting out from the eastern tower. But she cast her eyes away. Right now, her life at the palace didn’t exist. Here and now, she had no responsibilities, no duties, no obligations. Soaring high above the city, she wasn’t a princess—she wasn’t the heir to the human throne of Medora. She was nothing. She was no one.
She was free.
Then the clouds swept in, stealing the sunshine, and suddenly the draekon beneath her vanished.
With the powerful beast no longer keeping her aloft, Delucia began to fall.
An endless scream left her lips as she plummeted towards the city that was no longer shining, but shadowed by darkness. Fire—there was fire everywhere, smoke rising to the heavens. It burned her skin and clogged her throat, choking her screams, allowing the cries of others to reach her ears as she fell closer and closer to the ground. The city itself seemed to be screaming in pain—along with all those trapped within it.
People—those were Delucia’s people.
And they were dying.
A thunderclap sounded, the noise so loud it pierced Delucia’s ears and drowned out the screams. Lightning streaked all around her, so bright it was blinding, taking with it the vision of the burning city. All that remained of her senses was the ringing in her ears, the scent of smoke, the wind tearing at her body, and the scorching heat of the embers that were now nearly within reach.
Her sight cleared just in time to see the single image, one almost as shocking as the end of her beloved Tryllin.
It was a man—a man standing at the steps of the palace, a crown of golden hair atop his head, eyes blazing like the fires surrounding him.
His face—Delucia had never seen such a face. He was so beautiful it hurt to look at him. And yet, she could feel the emotion pouring from him, the disgust, the loathing. It was like oil coating her skin, suffocating and poisoning her from the outside in. Because somehow she knew that this beautiful man considered her amongst what he detested. Like the city dying around them, he wished for her to suffer the same fate.
And as she fell close enough for his golden eyes to lock on hers, the last thing she saw was his satisfied expression as he witnessed her death.
Delucia sat up with a gasp, her hand flying to her pounding chest. Panting loudly, she tried to steady her breathing, allowing the early morning light streaming into her bedroom to soothe her.