Master of Dragons by Angela Knight

She’d better damn well know what she was doing.
    Nineva had kept up with her training after his death. Borderline broke though she always was, she’d sprung for gym memberships and martial arts classes to make sure she didn’t forget how to fight.
    Now it seemed all that preparation was going to pay off. The minute they let her out of the car— if they let her out of the car—she’d have to be ready to defend herself. She was damned if she’d just surrender to the bastards who’d destroyed her family.
    The car touched down on an expanse of frost-pale grass beside the highway, rocking on its tires as its weight settled. For a moment, everything went utterly still under the white sliver of the moon. Heart pounding, she looked around, searching for the enemy.
    It didn’t take long to spot them. Something moved in the utter darkness under the overpass. She caught her breath, eyes straining.
    Thirty men on horseback emerged from under the bridge, their armor gleaming dully in the glow of their magic. The horses’ eyes shone green and ghostly, like cats’. The icy ground crunched under their massive hooves, and their tack jingled and creaked.
    Nineva’s jaw dropped. Sidhe warriors. Out here in front of God and the South Carolina Highway Patrol.
    Or not. She could sense the bubble of magic that surrounded them all. Probably an invisibility spell.
    All four of the Honda’s doors flew open with a quadruple thunk. A man’s voice rumbled in command. “Princess Nineva, come out.”
    It had been a long time since she’d heard the language of the Morven Sidhe, but she hadn’t forgotten it. Nineva stared out across the hood and considered telling him to go to hell. Reluctantly, she decided against it.
    â€œDo not make me send a man to drag you, Princess.” It was the tallest of the men who spoke, a big bruiser on an even bigger horse.
    Nineva curled her lip at him, battling impotent rage as hatred threatened to choke her. Shaking with it, she got out of the car.
    Squaring her shoulders, she raised her weapon, fell into a fighting stance, and concentrated on looking like royalty. Her enemies might kill her, but she wasn’t going to shame her parents. “All right, now what?”
    Warily, she studied the warriors as they rode closer, spears, axes, and swords glittering. They and their mounts wore barbaric armor, matte black and jutting with menacing spikes and horns. With a rising masculine murmur, they jostled into a half circle around her. She promptly threw up a magical shield with her free hand, tightened her grip on her sword, and prepared to fight.
    Not that she had a chance in hell. The odds well and truly sucked. Nineva curled a lip at her enemies anyway. “I guess I should be flattered, if Ansgar thinks it takes this many warriors to kill me.”
    â€œWe have no interest in killing you, Princess.” The big warrior swung down from his horse and strode toward her. With a creak of leather and the ring and rattle of armor and tack, the others hastily did the same. Yeah, the big guy was the leader, all right. “We mean you no harm at all.”
    Warily, Nineva studied her foe. She supposed he was handsome, in an Evil Empire kind of way—tall and Terminator-massive in that ornate black armor, a shimmer of peacock iridescence sliding over the scales whenever he moved in the glow of his magic. The visor of his stylized helm suggested a wolf’s snarling muzzle. Leather cords bound animal teeth to twin locks of his long black hair. The teeth clicked and rattled whenever he turned his head. She considered telling him he looked like one of the bad guys from Lord of the Rings.
    Nah, better not. Instead she asked, “So what do you want?”
    He spread his empty hands. “Only to talk.”
    Nineva conjured a fireball to float above her palm. “Then you’re out of luck, because I don’t want to hear anything you’ve