Chapter 70

It has already been half a day since Brendan had been taken.

Since Alcina had sat there, in a shocked stupor, crumpled on the ground with no one able to approach her for the snarling, fearsome dragon wrapped protectively around her.

Since then, she had sat there, unregistering the coming and going of various individuals as they counted the dead and the living. Her own father was declared in need of critical medical attention.

Nearly an hour after the hall had emptied, Alfred and Nordin had managed to coax Alcina gently to her feet and led her to her room, where she sat staring blankly at the wall until she was fetched for the current meeting.

But all Alcina can see is the still and unmoving form of Brendan, laying limply in her arms; of Brendan, smelling like soot and ash and cinders rather than his familiar warm, earthy amber scent; of Brendan, his skin covered in harsh burns, with his eyes that wouldn't open to look at Alcina, no matter how much she begged.

So, when Alcina's entir