Free The Queen's Flight (Emerging Queens) by Jamie K. Schmidt Page A

shopkeeper’s quick intake of breath made her aware that the energy in the room was now dancing along her arms, giving her goose bumps.
    The newcomer filled the room, wearing black leather and oozing attitude. Viola’s mouth twitched in a relieved grin.
    “This is the third shop I’ve been to.”
    “Sergei,” she breathed, not sure if she was thrilled to see the scowling muscle head or not. “You’re all right. Wait.” She blinked. “There are two more yarn stores around here?”
    “They’re not as nice as this one,” the shopkeeper said.
    “Of course I’m all right,” Sergei huffed. “Let’s go. We need to fly.”
    Shame crushed over her. “I can’t.”
    “You have to try.”
    “It’ll attract attention and then we’ll be in trouble.”
    “Trouble?” the shopkeeper asked. “Do you want me to call the police?” He held up a size-thirty knitting needle and waved it threateningly at Sergei.
    “No, that wouldn’t help,” Viola said, putting her knitting down.
    “What does he mean, fly?” the shopkeeper’s husband asked, looking at her. “You can take the bus or a train.”
    Sergei snorted in derision.
    “I’m a dragon,” she said, at the same time Sergei said, “Don’t.”
    The shopkeepers exchanged a glance and she saw one of them hide a smile behind his hand. “Of course you are, dear.”
    “Well, you’re going to have to fly because I don’t have a car.” Sergei started to gather up her things.
    “Be careful with that.” Viola snatched the needles out of his hands and folded up the work so the stitches wouldn’t slide off the needles. “I’ve got an idea. We can take my bike. You can ride bitch.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
    He darted his hand out to grab her tongue, and she fell back on the sofa in shock. “No,” he said, grinning at her expression. “You saw how well riding worked the last time.”
    “I’m devastated about the ’Busa.” Viola looked down at her shoes. That had been a sick bike. And it was totally ruined because of her.
    Sergei shrugged. “Better the bike than me.”
    “Is that going to be expensed, too?”
    “Damn right it is.” He winked.
    “You can rent a car down the road,” the shopkeeper pointed out.
    “How far away are we from the safe house?” she asked.
    The shopkeepers traded nervous glances. That apparently wasn’t as amusing as the concept of her being a dragon.
    “The purpose of the safe house means that not everyone knows about it. I’ll go get a car. Stay here and, for the love of Nidhogg, call Carolyn so she knows I’ve found you.”
    “My cell phone is dead.”
    He tossed her his.
    “I don’t know her number.” Viola stared at it. It had a lot of bells and whistles.
    “Scroll through the contacts.” He twirled his finger.
    “I can give you money for the car,” she stood up to reach into her pocket.
    “Expense account, remember?”
    Avarice filled her. “Can you expense other things?” She looked at the shelves of yarns, sorted by color in every hue she could imagine.
    “Like what?” He narrowed his eyes at her.
    She spun around, her arms indicating the entire store.
    Sergei slapped his credit card on the counter. “Two bags. I’m getting something little and fast, not an SUV. Got it?” He pointed a finger at her.
    “Wait,” she said, biting her lip, even as she was gathering hanks of cashmere in her arms. “Who’s paying the expense account?”
    “You are. Or your benefactors.”
    “But I don’t have a job or benefactors.”
    “Sister, once I get you to the safe house you can have anything you want. Except for Madagascar and Australia.” He snorted.
    “What?” she asked, but he was already out the door. Viola looked away from the yarn long enough to admire the tight fit of his jeans.
    …
    Viola kissed her new friends good-bye, and put the two overflowing shopping bags of yarn into the backseat of a Ford Fusion. They promised to guard her Harley until someone from the dragon embassy came and