On the seat opposite, Freya, hands in muff, didn’t move a muscle, and yet an almighty slap flung Ophelia against the window. Completely dazed, she stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the blurred figure before her—her glasses had fallen off her nose with the force of the slap. “That,” Freya said, icily, “is a kindness compared with what that man will have in store for you in private.” With the cuff of her sleeve, Ophelia wiped the blood trickling from her nose down to her chin. So was that the Dragons’ power? The ability to hurt at a distance?
