Chapter 1
Dreams of the sky above the clouds, flying for no reason other than to feel the wind against her scales and the heat of the sun on her wings scattered abruptly, leaving a distinct unease in their wake.
A familiar face stared up at her, silent and pleading. "Oh, no."
The finest of the king’s guards, Captain Sullary, lay face-up on the practice field. A pool of swiftly cooling blood spread from three, bone-deep furrows in his chest and the stump of his neck. His blood clung to her teeth and she watched, only slightly horrified, as it dripped from her talons to the packed dirt. "Not this again!"
Shouts of outrage called for her death. Quieter voices were simply demanding her whipped there on the field as any other guard who had accidentally killed another in practice would be.
She groaned in her sleep and tried to get away from the dream, but only managed to twist the covers around herself more tightly.
The quieter voices came from her comrades in the guard unit and they got their way once she was able to become her elven self again. Late the same day, she found herself being dragged from the cell she had been placed in. Her wrists were shackled to the corners of the whipping frame, a steel one they had crafted several years prior. They only used it instead of the wooden one because they knew she could change into a dragon. After all, that’s what it had been built to hold; she had helped build it, so she should have known. “Wake up!”
Barbs bit into her back as the whip came down, slicing the flesh as easily as the fabric of her uniform. Pain followed, and she struggled to keep a scream from escaping. Several minutes that felt like days passed before she was able to catch her breath. The pounding in her ears and the weakness of her body kept her hanging where she was rather than pulling up to relieve her wrists. She felt completely numb, which wasn’t really that bad. Once, she thought someone had called her, and she really wanted to answer with a fist in their face.
The nightmare changed suddenly. She didn’t know how to respond to it except to try and wake up more forcefully. It didn’t work, and she nearly rolled off the bed.
Steel flashed in the light from the torch just behind her. Blood poured down her left arm before the pain hit. That was a sharp sword! Half her arm was covered in blood, her sword was out of her reach, and now the man with the sword was coming after her for another strike! No way out, unless she jumped over him. She knew she wouldn’t make it, so she didn’t try. Stairs behind her tripped her and the sword came flying towards her.
Sunlight streamed through the window. The rays found the slight crack in her eyelids and burrowed in, reminding her of work she had to do in less than an hour. It blinded her, but woke her effectively enough that she was willing to forgive the sun for rising so early that she still had a slight headache. Heather took a few minutes to untangle the covers from around her body before sliding her feet off the edge of the bed. The woolen material was drenched in sweat and blood which made it rather slow going.
Nausea and sharp pain assaulted her as soon as she sat up. With her head in her hands, she realized most of the blood had come from her left arm. From the middle of her upper arm to an inch from her wrist was a gash that had gone to the bone. Using her hereditary healing hadn’t done her much good; however, she had managed to make it look like it only went halfway as deep as it was.
She felt better when she lifted her head. Well enough to clean her arm and do her work in the kitchens if she could find the bandages in her pack. Some of the people that would be in had peculiar tastes, and she didn’t want someone to decide they wanted dragon blood, half-dragon anyway, mixed with their food or drink every time they ordered. There was enough to worry about without adding to the list.
This is only part of chapter one. I'll add more if I have a chance.
