The moment their feet touched the ground outside the town gates, Medusa wasted no time. She whipped her rod in a lazy arc, muttering a spell under her breath — and before Mikhail could even react, a shimmer of magic brushed over him.
He froze. Blinked.
His horns — his beautiful, perfect little horns — were gone.
"What the hell did you just do?!" he barked, hands flying up to his forehead.
Medusa smirked, spinning the rod in her fingers like it was a game. "Relax, idiot. It's just a simple illusion. It'll wear off eventually."
Mikhail growled low in his throat, glaring at her like he was two seconds away from punching something. "You touch my horns again, and I'm feeding you to the next dragon we meet."
"You can try," she said sweetly, already sauntering toward the town gates.
He cursed under his breath, but followed, slinking after her like a shadow.
