CHAPTER TWELVE
Puren tiptoed down the hall and stopped at the closed door. The palace of the dragon lord was as still and silent as a tomb. Even the birds had seemingly abandoned the gardens as though they sensed something amiss.
There was no sound from the other side, a fact which made the servant’s heart fall. Puren took a deep breath and put on a smile that had no warmth. He puffed up his chest and strolled into the room as if nothing was wrong. The servant carried a tray in both hands upon which was a bowl of cooked oats and a glass of water. His gaze couldn’t help but fall on the still figure that lay on the bed, clad in white with a face nearly as pale as the sheets.
Puren set the tray on the nightstand beside the bed and turned his face toward the occupant of the bed. His
