“Fucking hell,” she cursed. How come these things kept happening to her?
A low, masculine grumble came from her left. “Quite the mouth on you, Lady Octavia.”
She turned, her ankle protesting the movement. Flynn clutched the bars of his own cage, making no effort to hide his mirth.
“I’m sorry,” Octavia snapped. “Is there something funny about this situation?”
There was little that Octavia hated more than being trapped. Dragons were meant to be free, to fly and soar through the skies. They weren’t meant to be caged. Especially not next to too-handsome-for-their-own-good witches who apparently had horrible senses of humor.
Flynn had the audacity to smile. Smile!
As if being held captive by a pack of werewolves awaiting judgement from their Alpha was nothing but a joke to him.
It wasn’t a joke to Octavia. This was one of the worst situations she’d ever found herself in, which said a lot.
“I find life is more enjoyable when you appreciate the small moments,” Flynn said.
Octavia made a rude gesture at him. “Appreciate this.”
Helaughed.
Asshole.
Turning her back on the handsome, ridiculous witch, Octavia curled up on the ground and drew her bag towards her. Pointedly ignoring Flynn, she took in their surroundings.
Long wooden beams stretched across the ceiling. Several windows filled with frosted glass let in the faint yellow glow of the sun, illuminating the dust swirling in the air. And the cages. There were a dozen of them in total, although the other enclosures were empty. Why did the werewolves have a dozen iron cages? Were there that many trespassers who threatened them?
A thought entered Octavia’s mind, and she gasped. Maybe looking good wasn’t the talkative witch’s only use. Turning around, she clutched her bag to her chest and inched towards the bars.
Flynn watched her through amused brown eyes.
“Can you break us out of here?” she whispered. The thick bars were nearly the size of her hand. Even with her dragon shifter strength, she wouldn’t be able to move them. But Flynn had magic.
“Maybe.” His eyes sparked, and he held out his hand.
Seconds passed.
It seemed like something was supposed to happen, but there was nothing but empty air above his hand.
His brows furrowed, and a frown dug into his lips.
Strange. In the shack, his magic had seemed to come instantly. But maybe it would just take a little bit of time? She wasn’t fully aware how his magic worked, so she would be patient.
Seconds became minutes.
Flynn’s frown deepened, and his brows creased. “I can’t reach my magic.” For the first time since Octavia had met him, the witch seemed truly upset. “I can’t… it’s not there.” His breath came faster and faster. “Where is it? Why can’t I call on it?”
“Magic won’t work,” a small, soft voice said.
Octavia jolted, her gaze swiveling as she searched for the speaker.
A child, no more than ten, stood near their cages. The youngling’s skin was a golden tan. She had long brown hair in two braids. Like the other werewolves they’d met, she had orange eyes. She wore a red frock and was barefoot, as though she’d been running through the woods.
“What do you mean?” Flynn asked. “What has been done to me?”
The panic was evident in his voice, and Octavia frowned. She might not have truly liked the witch, but she hated seeing anyone in pain.
“Magic doesn’t work in the cages,” the child said patiently. “They’re lined with prohiberis.”