Like with "Black Dragon," I decided to make "Lost and Found" a more fitting cover now that it's on the chopping block.
The bushes overflowed with every shade of color, but in particular crimson. It was Shiori’s favorite color, and arrogant red flowers spilled over the blues, purples, and pinks. The other woman servants grumbled about it to each other every now and again--that many in the same soil, they shouldn’t grow like that.
When she finally came to bother James in the storehouse, Lizzy had aged by about thirty years since she’d talked to him. Quite literally. James was not, by this, point, surprised.
The needle went in, out, and in the assassin’s heart. The icon took shape: blue as black, the damned kingfisher. James’ dragon raged around inside him, trying to thrash loose, but the thrall had ordered him to be still. James’ teeth rattled in their sockets. His magic rattled in his bones.
Burn scars were etched around each, odored faintly by old fire. The man’s eyelids were raw and pink without eyelashes.
"Outside the unintelligible grumbling and angry hissing of dragon language, the home of the draca was known as Dragonhalf, Crown of Dragons. The original words translated into something more like Grave of Dragons, but the two were synonymous to draca. Once assigned, authority could not be escaped by the holder or revoked by those beholden. Unsurprisingly, in the history of draca rulers, only a handful had died from confirmed natural causes. "