The king’s eyes fix on mine as I touch my fingertips to his palm. The skin is rougher than I expect, and my head starts flying through thoughts of scales and where all those might be found before calming myself. It’s only the skin of a man who works with his hands, another oddity, but nothing to shriek over.
“Be sure, Princess,” he says in a voice just short of a growl.
I run my gaze once more along the horns, the harsh features.
“I’m sure.”
He bows his head. “Then let us be off.”
With that, he takes my hand in a fierce grip and begins leading me down the gangplank. Mother starts after us.
“Serah, stop and think. There are other ways—"
The king comes to a halt so fast that I thump into his back. Heat spreads across my cheeks. Every eye in the port is on us. At home, I’m known as “the quiet one.” I hardly want to become “the clumsy one” here.
“She has made her decision,” the king says. “You are most welcome to return for the ceremony in a month’s time, Your Majesty.”
Welcome to return…? Selena and I share a wide-eyed look.
“It is tradition,” my mother says with barely restrained rage, “for a bride’s family to remain with her until—”
“That is not our tradition, as I’m sure Minister Abely told you. You, as her guardian, have relinquished her to me. She is under my care now. My servants will restock your supplies and fetch the princess’s things. I expect you to cast off as soon as they’re done.”
He continues on, dragging me after him. I fling a look back. Am I really to leave my family without even saying goodbye?
“Your Majesty,” I say, my voice a breathy whisper, but either I’m not loud enough or he doesn’t care to listen. I look once more. Tears are welling in Selena’s big brown eyes.
Tradition or not, this heartlessness cannot stand.
Planting my feet, I pull back hard. Finally, he pauses.
“Your Majesty,” I say as near to his ear as I dare, “please, let me say goodbye to my sister.”
I hear the creak of his armored coat as his shoulders stiffen. “Tradition dictates that they leave as soon as you are given.”
I gather my courage once more. “Please. I’ll only be a moment.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Please.”
His head shifts toward me. “Make it quick.”
Biting my lip, I tug my hand free of his and make my way back up the gangplank. As soon as I’m within reach, Selena flings herself into my arms.
“Don’t go.”
I draw her close and stroke her hair. “I have to, little pufferfish.”
“No you don’t. Mama, tell her.”
Reluctantly, I meet my mother’s eyes. Her face is stiff, her chin lifted.
“You should reconsider,” she says.
I shake my head. “I can’t.” This will give our people new life, a new beginning. She knows this.
“You can, Serah. There’s—” She glances past me at the king and lowers her voice. “There’s another way. Come back with me.”
Slowly, I unwind Selena’s arms and move to stand in front of my mother.
“If there was, you wouldn’t have brought me.”
When I kiss her cheek, her lip wobbles. I run my hand once more over my sister’s head before returning to the king.
“Thank you,” I say.
He dips his head and, without turning, holds his hand out again to me. Before I can take it, my sister’s voice cuts through the stifling air.
“If you hurt her, I’ll be back for you! You hear me?”
I gasp, but to my surprise, the declaration is met with chuckles by the crowd. And the king…
He turns slowly and lowers himself into a deep, solemn bow.
“Come,” he says when he rises, taking my hand himself this time. I take one last look at my mother and sister before letting him lead me away.
The king’s two attendants meet him at the bottom of the gangplank. Twins, I realize, though it’s no wonder I didn’t notice upon my first glance at the pair. One, stern-faced and burly, cuts a quick bow to me. The other grins as he bows, while simultaneously holding a recently-broken nose. Very recently, from the looks of the dried blood about his nostrils.
“Soren,” the burly one says, “We need to get her out of here. Now.”
Soren. Dragons often guard their given names like jewels, this much I know. Did this man just reveal the king’s right in front of me?
“Wyverns?” the king asks coolly.
“Yes,” the man says, his face grim. “They’re coming.”