With an animalistic roar, Drogo restrained the other beast, pinning him on the ground and slamming a fist through Micah’s chest cavity to remove his beating heart.

Just like that, the battle ended.

Upon death, Aveline’s soldier returned to his humanoid shape, scales falling away, bones shrinking.

Once the metamorphosis completed, a naked man covered in blood remained.

Nola swallowed a rush of bile.

Drogo stumbled back and fell, and this time he didn’t rise. Dismayed and worried, she rushed over, skidding halfway. As she gently maneuvered his head in her lap, he issued a low growl, but he didn’t bite her so...win!

“Be at ease, beasty-boy.” He was in pain, and she hated that.

What had Carrie used to say? If you want a different outcome, you’ve got to do something different. Rather than resisting Dark Nola, she drew from her confidence.

Ta-da! The answer—the “something different”—came to her in a flash. She needed to issue a command. That hadn’t changed. But if she changed his outlook...

Petting his snout, she said, “In a moment, I’m going to heal you. But, as you know, I’ve got to issue a command to do so.”

His whole body jerked. He huffed a shallow breath, then another, his large dark eyes wild and deluged with fury.

“I need you to listen, okay? I am your queen. Or I will be,” she continued as gently as possible. Petting, always petting. “I guess that makes me your pre-queen. So get ready, because you won’t like what comes next. A pre-queen doesn’t make herself less powerful because others are afraid of what she might order them to do. No. A warrior rises up and does his duty. So, I’m asking you to show yourself strong, so I can do the same. Do not nurse a bruised ego or throw a dragtrum—that’s a ‘dragon tantrum’ to the layperson. Rather than lashing out at every royal, get to know us as individuals. Let me prove myself worthy of your scorn or respect.”

He huffed another breath, this one deeper, but he didn’t attempt to flee. He might not like her tone or her words, but he was listening.

“You earned these wounds saving me. It would be my honor to help you heal. My way of saying thanks.”

Again, he didn’t flee.

Deep breath in, out. Here goes. “I command you to heal quickly and painlessly.”

Big, swiping shudders shook him, missing scales growing back. His wings straightened and realigned. Torn flesh wove back together. Even the shoulder wound healed somewhat, shrinking in both length and width, assuming its original size. Sweet! But also—dang!

“There,” she said. “Isn’t that better?”

Smoke curled from his nostrils, yet he projected little malice. What amazing progress for them both! She even felt her bond to Bane and Drogo amplifying.