Moonblood (Tales of Goldstone Wood Book #3) by Anne Elisabeth Stengl Read Free Book Online Page A

poison and whirling music. Memories of a throne made of twisted dragon skeletons set high on a black pedestal. She felt overwhelmed with the urge to throw herself upon the strange girl, to drag her up and push her from the Path, crashing down to the rocks below.
    A cruel impulse, but it raced through her veins in a flooding rush.
    Then the wood thrush sang a single word: Beloved.
    Rose Red breathed out slowly and felt her hands, which had been clenched into fists, relax. Licking her lips, she whispered, “And I see that you suffer.” She touched the scale-covered arm.
    The dragon sat upright and yanked herself away from Rose Red. “Leave me alone!” There was no violence in her voice, only terror. And Rose Red thought that her transformation must have been recent. This trembling creature could not long have been a dragon.
    “Please, m’lady,” Rose Red said as softly as she could. “I am not one to judge you.” She swallowed, then slowly began to peel the glove off her right hand. “Will you look?”
    She held out her bare hand for the stranger to see: hard as stone, each stubby finger ending in a cruel claw. It was her shame and her birthright.
    The dragon stared at it, her mouth dropping open. Then she looked up, squinting as though to see Rose Red’s eyes through the slit of her veil. “Are you . . . are you like me?” she asked.
    Rose Red shook her head. “No, m’lady. But let me help you even so.”
    Slowly, the dragon lifted her own horrible hand and placed it in Rose Red’s. The scales were hot, hot right through Rose Red’s stony hide. But Rose Red had expected this and did not flinch. She helped the girl to her feet and said, “You go to the city?”
    The dragon nodded, confirming Rose Red’s suspicions. Well, she would get her off of the cliff and out of the cold first, then figure out how to dissuade her. What could a young dragon possibly want in the Eldest’s City anyway? It was unlikely that Southlands was her home. Her pale skin and fair hair suggested she came from one of the north countries, as far as Parumvir, even. How she came to be so far south was beyond Rose Red’s guess. But she wouldn’t worry about that now.
    Beana turned and led the way up the Path, muttering to herself and sometimes voicing a vehement “Bah!” Otherwise, she said nothing, though she kept casting wary glances back at both the dragon and the Wilderlands below. No one could have guessed which she feared most.
    Their going was slow, and the morning was well progressed by the time they reached the tablelands above. As soon as they were upon level ground, the stranger pulled herself from Rose Red’s grasp. She was unsteady on her feet, but her face was determined. “Which way to the city gates?” she demanded.
    Rose Red frowned. She did not like to think of a dragon, no matter how small and weak, wandering alone through the Eldest’s grounds, trying to find the city. “I can take you there myself,” she said hesitantly, her mind furiously working to come up with some way to dissuade the creature. “I serve in the Eldest’s House. I know the way.”
    “Serve in the Eldest’s House?” Flames darted in the corners of the dragon’s eyes, and Rose Red took a step back at the sight. “Have you seen . . .” The dragon paused and ducked her head, blinking as though to drive back the fire. “That is . . . have you heard tell of . . .”
    Trying to swallow her fear, Rose Red said gently, “Yes, m’lady?”
    The dragon shook her head and turned her back on Rose Red. “Thank you for your assistance. I will find my own way.”
    Rose Red felt her heart stop. She realized the dragon was about to run. She dared not lose her. Not now, after she herself had helped the creature to the surface. “Please, m’lady—”
    The dragon’s thin voice transformed into a roar. “Leave me alone!”
    Rose Red fell back, pressing into Beana, who stood just behind her. She could not bring herself to speak or move,