It was impossible to tell whether Natiaveda was angry or pleased. Perhaps she was both. Under the gaze of those soul-stealing amber eyes, the brown-haired knight lost consciousness once again.
Leif had thought the dragon had only just promised not to bewitch her anymore. Who could have known she would be so fickle?
When Leif came to, the starry sky above her had become a wooden ceiling. The black stone beneath her had become a soft bed. The dead silence of the Black Forest had been replaced by the peculiar sounds of a poorly soundproofed inn at mealtime: voices...
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