“That’s not fair, Abia,” Fassn protests over the grumbling of his own stomach. “We were gonna sell this thing and get pork chops. I mean, it’s gorgeous and everything, sure,” he continues, with its winking little emeralds…”
The glowing sphere takes a turn around Fassn’s head, bobbing up and down.
“We took a bath for this,” Shyan says to the dragon, her voice controlled but edged with anger. “You owe us coin. Abia walked out on you, fine. She’s not coming back. Neither are any of us if you just give us the coin.”
“My, such fury from such tiny creatures,” the dragon rasps, its claws tightening on its golden throne.
Logan Bright — Works 