Lorraine's tone dripped with sarcasm, though she hardly paused to consider that she might have just mocked the great Dragon King himself.
Vaeronyx's eyes narrowed, slowly, deliberately. The cavern held its breath. For a heartbeat, she thought she'd gone too far. But then she noticed the faint curl at the edge of his molten gaze. Not anger. Not offense. Amusement.
Perhaps the great and ancient god understood sarcasm after all.
He didn't scold her. He merely exhaled, a sound like shifting mountains, and from his nostrils came a stream of smoke that shimmered faintly with embers. The air smelled of fire and iron.
"If that's the case," Vaeronyx said at last, his voice like distant thunder, "he'll be fine."
The bluntness of it left her stunned. Her lips parted in disbelief. Then a sharp snort followed, an almost careless sound, accompanied by a flare of orange that illuminated the cavern for a fleeting instant. His shadow stretched long across the stone, immense and otherworldly.
