“When do they attack? When their master tells them to?” Her gaze flicked to me, and she stopped petting him. “Dragons have no masters.” “Then what are you to him?” Those violet eyes I’d seen in my dreams thousands of nights held me captive. I’d never forgotten her, the young fae girl who I’d saved from death by my father’s wights. And yet it had never occurred to me that she would grow into such a stunning beauty. Her eyes, still a luminous violet, were no longer those of a girl but of a woman who’d known hardship and pain.
