"Dragon?" Breedyn's gaze swung back in hard inspection, struggling to match reality with imagination. The tomes in which he had read about dragons hadn't provided drawings, so he had formed his own vision. Huge and gleaming like jewels. "Ganyun's balls! This is a dragon!"
"Balls? Balls? You use that word like you're some kind of juggler. What does it mean?" Shaila fluttered her hands in evident anger for his interruption, but apparently wasn't interested in an answer. For which he was grateful. "Of course he's a Dragon!" She glared at it. "Not the most reputable one you're likely to meet."
"Humph!" the dragon grumbled. "It appears, however, that I am the most gullible Dragon you are likely to meet."
Sucking in a quantity of air, he contracted his lower gullet, then his upper gullet, until the pressure belched up from his esophagus to bring her from his depths. A wet heap of humanity plopped from his jaws...
Perhaps it had been presumptuous to gulp her down; however, at the time it had seemed prudent. He had been certain she'd been about to break the imperial nose of the imperial Prince of Roberyll. King Harrimore had charged him not only with protecting his daughter from physical harm, but with restraining the less than diplomatic Princess from generating political discord in the course of her husband-quest.
What was a Dragon do to with such an imperative assignment, particularly when the husband-seeking female was intent on foiling the royal dictate?