Fugitive of Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Protector Book 1) by Linsey Hall

Author:Linsey Hall [Hall, Linsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781942085089
Publisher: Bonnie Doon Press
Published: 2017-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

It was one of those dreams that felt real because it had once been real. Even though I knew I wasn’t really trapped in the Monster’s dungeon anymore, my mind was there while I slept.

The cold dark was too familiar to mistake. The damp stone floor beneath my butt was etched into my memory, as was the sound of the dripping water in the corner and the scuttling of rats.

“Cass? Del?” I whispered.

In the dark, no one responded.

A sob rose in my throat, but I bit it down, afraid for the guard to hear.

I was alone.

Which meant this was the time before they’d been captured. I’d been the first child taken by the Monster, when I was only fourteen. The six months I’d spent alone in his dark dungeon cell had been the worst of my life.

I would never experience anything that terrible ever again.

Except in my dreams.

I tried with everything I could to escape the nightmare, but I was trapped.

Here, I was always trapped.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. I pressed myself back into the corner, trying to become invisible. If I could sink into the stone I would. I’d become part of this terrible dungeon if it meant I could escape whatever was outside in the hall.

When the door creaked open and light flooded into the dark cell, my eyes went blind. It’d been days since I’d seen light.

“Time to go.” The gruff voice belonged to the mean guard. The one who held my arm too tightly and hissed threats in my ears. He liked doing that. I could sense it, and it creeped me out.

I surged to my feet despite the fear that wanted to keep me pressed against the wall. I’d learned the hard way that resistance didn’t work. It just made him meaner. And I was a skinny fourteen—not able to fight and still unable to conjure a weapon. Though my mother was an excellent Conjurer, my skills were slow to develop.

How I wished they’d been faster, that I could conjure a sword and plunge it into the gut of the horrible man who would drag me to an even more horrible fate.

On leaden feet, I approached him, my limbs rebelling but my mind forcing them to work.

My will was stronger than my fear. It always had been.

“Come on, now,” the guard barked. He gripped my arm in a fist, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises.

He dragged me down the hall, walking almost too fast to keep up with. When he threw me into another, larger cell, my heart dropped.

No. I shuddered. Not this again.

Sometimes they took me out to bathe. That would not happen today.

A man lay strapped to a table in the middle of the room. He was about my parents’ age, with mousy brown hair and magic that smelled like a forest fire.

Behind him, the Monster stood. He wore a fancy suit and had the face of a banker—totally nondescript and boring.

Terrifying.

I knew what he was capable of. And that made him terrifying.

“Are

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