Dragons of Asgard 3 by Logan Jacobs (thriller novels to read txt) 📕

“I would assume so,” I agreed. “Make sure to take anything of value, too. No sense in leaving it here.”

“Right,” Asta agreed, and she made her way into the kitchen to start looking around.

I followed a hallway off the den until I found a large study, and the walls were lined with bookshelves that held miniature volumes of books I could only imagine trying to read.

As I searched through the desk, I thought about how brutally the girls and I had just attacked these arseholes. It was nothing less than what they deserved, but it was unlike me to fight with my temper instead of my head.

Something had come over me when I’d seen the dwarves all gathered around as if nothing had happened. Their nonchalance sparked something in me, and I found my mind clouded with rage.

I shook my head to clear it and then took a deep breath. I’d make sure to keep my wits about me next time, but killing those dragon trading fools felt good. They deserved such a terrifying, untimely death as we’d given them, and I didn’t regret a thing, regardless of what that little bastard said.

If the portraits in this home were any indication, then this family had been involved with the dragon trade for a long time.

Even in the study, there was a painting of an old dwarf with a baby dragon on his lap. The man had slightly tanned skin, a full white beard, and dark black eyes that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

The little purple dragon on his lap was posed for the picture, but it was clear he wasn’t happy. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and I could only imagine the kind of torture he’d gone through.

“Rath!” Kas’ voice called out, and my hand immediately went to my sword.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as I took off running down the hallway.

“Come here,” she said, and I found her in a room at the end of the corridor farthest from the den.

I stepped through the stone archway into some sort of aviary. It reminded me of the booth the woman at the market sold birds out of. There was a large window in the ceiling so I could see the outside sky above, and various-sized cages were hanging all over around the room.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Asta and Eira were in the room, too, and they were all gathered around a small table looking at something inside of a cage half covered with cloth.

“Come look,” Kas said.

Before I even took a step forward, I was pummeled by the emotions of the dragons I knew were in that cage. A sense of fear and urgency overcame me, and the terror was so strong it nearly made me sick to my stomach.

“You’re okay,” I whispered as I walked up to the table and peered into the cage.

Inside were two baby dragons. They shared Svass, Inger, and Uffe’s body type, so I figured they were from Alfheim, but they had to be freshly hatched since they were so small.

One was a female, I was sure of it. She was gold with little orange splotches sprinkled across her scales, and vibrant green eyes peered up at me as she cocked her head to the side.

The male was a dark-brown color with honey eyes, and he looked at me, took a step back, and lowered his head.

I could sense their fear was gone, and in its place was a complacency like none I’d ever experienced. These poor creatures were resigned to the life they’d been given, and they were determined to behave in order to avoid another beating.

Something about this was wrong… baby dragons wouldn’t behave this way. It took much longer to break a creature’s spirit than the few days these babies had been hatched.

“Rath,” Kas whispered, and she looked at me with violet eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Yes, you seem confused by something,” Asta noted.

“I don’t think these dragons are babies,” I whispered as I looked down at the small creatures.

“What do you mean?” Eira asked, and her red eyebrows pulled together. “They’re clearly babies… full grown dragons aren’t that small.”

“They do look like Inger and Uffe did when they were just hatched,” Asta agreed.

“I know.” I shook my head. “But… something about their feelings, I just know they’re not infants. Babies wouldn’t feel the way these two feel right now.”

“How are they feeling?” Kas inquired softly.

“They’re resigned,” I said with a sad exhale. “They’ve accepted being here. Babies wouldn’t have their spirits broken so quickly.”

“Hm,” the strawberry-blonde mused, and she cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you’re right. I can feel enchantments here, but I figured it was just the cages… maybe it’s on them instead.”

“Oh, no,” Eira suddenly whispered.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You’re right.” She shook her head and pointed to a portrait on the wall.

The painted scene was of the dwarf who’d gotten away earlier today and his family, only he was a child. The features were the same, and he was clearly recognizable, but so was the little brown dragon on his shoulder.

There was no way the dragon in that painting could be the dragon in this cage, not unless he was far older than he appeared.

“They put an enchantment on the dragons to keep them small,” I said as my throat grew tight with horror.

“Oh, no.” Asta frowned and reached down so the dragons in the cage could smell her hand. “How old do you think they are?”

“Centuries, at least,” I said. “They’re definitely adults.”

“I’m sure I can remove the enchantment,” Kas said, and she bit her lip. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to do it in here, not if they’re adults.”

“No.” I shook my