All my life, I’ve been told dragons could hardly even be called so anymore. After all, they only take human form and have done so for ages. They are no longer the fire-breathing creatures of myth who hoarded jewels and stole maidens.
As I watch three men descend from the sky like birds, one of them clutching a gilt-edged chest, I wonder how my education could have been so lacking.
The king reaches out to take my hand in his and I am somewhat relieved to be holding something. The men stalking across the courtyard are not only half-clothed, but the wings fanned out behind them are formidable. Far more than a bird’s wings, they resemble a bat’s, with a hand-like appendage perched at the highest point. I flush as one of the men catches me looking and uses the hand to give a cheeky wave.
Rally and Ty take up positions on either side of the king and I as the men close in. The two in the rear look to be about the same age as the king’s attendants, and though the man in the lead appears only slightly older, the harsh lines about his mouth age him. And imply he does a lot of scowling.
“Soren,” he says, holding his arms out in greeting. An oily smile spills over his face. “What fortuitous timing.”
“Your Majesty will do fine, Lord Tallin,” the king says, his tone expressionless. “May I present my betrothed, Princess Serah of Vasna.”
The man’s smile remains as he turns to me. His eyes flicker to the jewel at my throat and something flashes in his gaze—anger? Surprise?—before returning to my face.
“Well, well,” he says. “King Soren and Princess Serah. Your names fall like a fated flame.” He sweeps a bow, and the two behind him follow suit. “Had we been informed of your impending arrival, princess, we would have greeted you upon your landing. As it is, we wish to present you with a gift.”
He waves the man holding a chest forward, but the man has barely raised his foot when the Dragon King says, “You’ll do no such thing.”
Lord Tallin looks at him with mock offense. “Whyever not? I know we have our differences, but surely, a friendly gift on such an auspicious occasion, and between old friends no less, can bring no harm.”
“No.”
Lord Tallin tsks. “Perhaps your future bride holds a different opinion?” With a snap of his fingers, his companions raise the chest's lid, revealing an interior brimming with glittering jewels of every color. I will my eyes not to widen at the fortune before me.
I expect the king to rebuke him, but he stays quiet. Several seconds tick by. Is he waiting for me to respond? I hardly know what I would say. My role as a fourth daughter has been to smile and serve our people by drawing water where it’s needed, not engage in political rivalries. As the sun beats down, and the silence drags on, the atmosphere veers fully into awkwardness.
“She’s certainly no chatterbox,” Lord Tallin quips, “is she?”
My cheeks burn with indignation. Vasnan nobility is no high court; I know this. I’ve helped plow fields and fell timber with any number of our nobles, yet none would dare speak to a member of the royal family with such disrespect. I can’t help feeling both angry and humiliated.
Pressure on my hand brings me back to the moment. It’s the king, squeezing my fingers with his own.
Perhaps I’m only being fanciful, or perhaps the heat is going to my head, but the gesture seems to say, Fire back. Before I can doubt my interpretation, I fix the wyvern with a benign smile.
“Pardon my reticence, Lord Tallin. As I was taught many words are the mark of a fool, I thought it best to let you continue.”
Lord Tallin draws back, his shock evident. The man who waved his clawed wing at me actually snickers. I keep my expression neutral, though in truth, my daring astonishes me.
“So she does have some bite,” Lord Tallin says. The corner of his mouth creeps up. “How wonderful.”
“Indeed,” the king says, his hand firm against mine. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, the day advances, and I’m sure Princess Serah would appreciate some rest.”
Lord Tallin smirks. “Of course. I suppose we’ll be off then.” With a bow, he turns on his heel, his entourage in tow. The king watches them go.
“Oh,” Lord Tallin says over his shoulder, “do let me know if you tire of your pet, Soren.” The one eye angled toward us rakes over me. “She’s quite lovely.”
There isn’t even time for disgust to take hold before a snarling blur rushes by me.