The executioner had performed thirty-seven executions in his career. He had never had an opinion about the person kneeling at the block.
He had an opinion about this one. She had critiqued his hood.
Guinevere's lips curled in a last, defiant sneer.
The axe began its final arc, whistling in the air.
CRACK.
Half a second away from death, fate decided it wasn't finished with her and had opinions. A portal ripped open in the middle of the sky and a dragon was flung out of it at terminal velocity. It happened so quickly, the executioner didn't have a chance to look up before a juvenile dragon with zero landing skills hit the platform, knocking him off.
The axe went flying.
A column of green fire intercepted it midair, turning it into ash and charred metal. The dragon roared, almost daring someone to take a step.
Hyran, who had been standing on a balcony in the back because watching executions was not something he attended willingly, gripped the railing in front of him.
