Chapter 1
The dragon roared overhead, its skeleton an ashy gray, its wings nothing but a black frame, all the muscle, skin, and scales that made up a dragon in the real world gone here, with only bones remaining.
Fire shot from the dragon’s mouth, and I ducked to avoid being scorched to death. Though at this point, I might prefer death by fire to the cowering man who was supposedly here to rescue me.
“That’s enough, Hemy,” I said, shaking my finger at the beast that loomed tall over me, its head nearly reaching the thick clouds that sat pronounced in the inky black sky.
“Princess Seraphina,” a voice said from behind me.
“Yes, you keep calling me that. But I prefer Sera. And I’m no princess.
” I glanced over at the man, whose name I’d forgotten by this point.
He huddled by a rock, the black glittering sand underneath his leather boots swirling up each time Hemy flapped his wings.
Even without the thin skin of the wing, the impact of the bones flapping was enough force to produce a small sandstorm.
The man brought his hands up to his face, covering his eyes.
“You really don’t remember who you are?”
“Not a thing.” I remembered nothing of my past, but if it involved men like this, I was starting to think I was better off that way.
Hemy snorted from above, and I sighed. “You behave, sir.”
“You talk to that thing?” the man asked.
I cocked my head. What an odd question. These men who supposedly came here to rescue me always had the most curious things to say. “Well, who else am I going to talk to?” Certainly not you.
Hemy stopped flapping his wings and the cyclone of sand fell back to the ground.
Nothing but black and gray stone stretched as far as the eye could see.
An exact reflection of the waking world with its towering mountains and sand dunes—except Gilraeth was the color of earth.
Burnt orange, shades of tan, brown, beige, punctuated by bright green cacti or tall spindly trees.
This place, wherever it was, was the color of death.
Black, gray, maybe a pop of red here and there.
I missed the color, the life, in Gilraeth.
I may not have remembered my identity, but I remembered running my hand through warm sand, remembered standing on a cliff and looking out over gorgeous sunsets, remembered the feel of the warm sun on my face.
I swallowed. But this was my reality now, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon.
The man stood, staring at Hemy, his eyes straying back to me as I tugged at my long braid. He held up a sword half-heartedly, and at this point, I knew that even if he wanted to save me, he wasn’t going to. They never did.
“Listen, my father wants me to be king,” the man said. “So tell me how to slay this thing, and then let’s get the bloody fire out of here. I assume that’s what it’ll take to break your curse? Slay the dragon, save the princess.”
I sighed. This princess thing again. I honestly couldn’t see it, had a hard time believing I was an actual princess.
And if I was? Well, no thank you. I wasn’t about to leave one prison just to enter another.
Everyone who came here had some ulterior motive for wanting to save me.
A reward, an alliance, glory, fame, and the list went on and on.
Besides, I didn’t want anyone to slay Hemy.
Maybe everyone else thought he was a beast, but to me, he was a friend.
I stepped in front of Hemy protectively, picking up my sword that lay on the ground, ready to fight.
“What are you doing?” the man said, his piercing blue eyes wary. He tugged at his short blond beard.
He was handsome. I’d give him that. But then again, they all were.
“You’re not slaying Hemy,” I said, holding my sword up higher.
The man scoffed. “Are you serious?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known this was a fucking waste of time.”
I shrugged, keeping my voice light. “It wouldn’t be if you bothered to get to know me, to know my friend.”
“Your—” He stopped, taking a deep breath. “Your friend? The monster, you mean? The one that terrorizes you?”
“He doesn’t.” My fists curled.
“So what? You’re going to fight me instead of the dragon?” He pointed his sword at my throat. “Because I don’t think you’re going to win.”
That’s because he was an idiot. Again, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
It shouldn’t have stung the way he now sneered at me, such a change from when he’d first arrived, smile on his face, warmth in his eyes.
Now the warmth had turned to an icy frost. He donned a fighting stance, spreading his legs apart, a bend at the knees.
“We don’t have to fight,” he said. “We can still work together.”
Maybe he was right. I could just show him the way out. After all, this wasn’t his curse, and he could leave any time he wanted. I didn’t want to fight him. I just wanted to protect Hemy.
“I don’t want to have to hurt a . . . lady. If you could call yourself that.” He mumbled that last part.
On second thought . . . one little sword fight couldn’t hurt. Without warning, I lunged forward, and he brought his sword up, metal clanging against metal.
I bared my teeth at him, liking a little too much the fear that flashed in his eyes.
“Oh, c’mon,” I said. “You’ve got more in you than that, surely?”
He growled and pushed me off him. I stumbled back a few steps as he whipped his sword through the air and slashed at me.
I was quick, though. Quicker than he expected as I jumped back and up onto a rock behind me.
Hemy huffed from above, a few puffs of smoke escaping his nostrils.
I shook my head at him. I didn’t need, or want, his help.
This was something I had to do all on my own.
Our swords met, retreated, clashed, banged, both of us parrying as I stood atop the rock and he below me, sweat beading his brow, which was furrowed in concentration. I could tell from his moves he’d never faced a real threat.
Not like I had. Here. In my . . . curse.
I’d learned enough about it from all these men attempting to save me.
That some sorceress had it out for me, that I’d gotten on her bad side, apparently, and she’d cursed me to an endless sleep, one where nightmares ravaged me.
But I’d learned what it took to be a survivor, something these men knew nothing about.
I jumped down onto the hard stone ground, and the man leapt back, straight into the wall of a tall cliff, black rock glittering under the silver light of the moon.
“Oh, come on,” he said between heavy breaths. “You must remember something of your life as a princess: you loved pink dresses apparently.”
I hated dresses. I stepped toward him, my sword out.
“You liked to crochet.”
I made a face. Sit in a chair and do needlework? That sounded worse than this place. I took another step forward.
“You loved to wear your hair down, to have it braided with ribbons and bows.”
How impractical.
“No, that doesn’t ring a bell.” I stepped forward again, my sword’s point close to his throat. “In fact, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”
He groaned, and right as I brought my arm back, ready to plunge the sword toward him, he spun, then ran forward. I stuck out my foot, tripping him so that he stumbled, hitting the ground with a smack. “You can’t do that.” He rolled onto his back.
I stood over him, smiling as my sword’s tip pointed right into his pale throat. His pulse beat hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because that’s not fair fighting.”
“Who fights fair?” I applied more pressure, just enough to draw a bead of blood. He gulped at that. “Have you ever been in an actual battle? Do your enemies extend that kind of courtesy to you? Because mine don’t.”
Not in Gilraeth, and certainly not here in this cursed world.
His jaw ticked. “They said you were crazy, you know.”
At that I stepped back, sword faltering. “What are you talking about?”
He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.
“The other men who have come to rescue you. They said you’re a lost cause.
That you’ve befriended some of your nightmares.
” He gestured to Hemy. “But my father is desperate. We haven’t succumbed yet to the sorceress, and he was hoping because of your”—he grimaced—“history with her, that you’d know a weakness, a way to defeat her.
But everyone was right. You’re just the Mad Princess Seraphina. ”
He wanted mad? I could give him that. With a loud cry, I charged at him, slicing his perfectly tailored pants open, drawing a line of blood.
He stared at his pants in horror, and his mouth dropped open. “Those were made with Balevia cotton.”
“I can fix it if you want,” I said. “If you’d like to stay and chat. Have tea.” I glanced up at Hemy. “I use dragon’s fire to warm it. As long as you can stand the heat.”
“You’ve lost it,” he said, backing away. “You’re never going to escape this place. Who would want to save you?”
“I guess that’s a no to tea. That’s fine. I’m not much for sharing anyway. ” I studied the end of my blade, the tip coated with his blood. “And, for the record, I can save myself.”
He snorted. “Clearly.”
My jaw clenched. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to this land, where I’m some princess that likes to sit in pretty dresses and have my hair braided. Maybe I don’t want to be married to any of you. Have you ever thought about that?”
Hemy let out a stream of fire that made the man jump. He started to run down the gray path that wound through tall black cliff sides.
“The exit is that way,” I shouted after him, pointing in the opposite direction he was going. “You’ll make it just fine. As long as my nightmares don’t get you first!”
Once he was out of sight, I sank back against the rock and sighed heavily.
He was right. It was the same every time. Some hero came, thinking they were going to win the hand of Princess Seraphina. Then they met me, and I was never what they wanted. Not ladylike enough, not demure enough, not quiet enough. Just not enough.
Hemy nudged me with his snout, hard and cold.
“It’s fine,” I said, staring blankly at where the man had just stood. All alone again.
Just like I was meant to be.
The ground shook under my feet as I walked across the stone cliff, and the sky flashed with lightning, brilliant zig-zags of white that lit the land.
I frowned. That was odd. The ground only shook and rumbled when .
. . when another person was coming. But someone had just left.
Time had no meaning here, but usually, it felt like months between visits from these men. They never came back-to-back.
My jaw clenched tight, so hard a pain shot through my molars. I didn’t want another man here to rescue me, to use me, only to realize I wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t worth saving.
I reached inside of me, tugged at the tendrils of flame, and the fire sprang into my hand and rippled down the sword I still held. I gripped it tight, stomping toward where the lightning flashed again, pointing straight down to a small cave nearby, the place where my new hero would arrive.
And what a welcome he was about to receive. I held up the sword, now crackling with fire. These men wanted a mad princess? Then a mad princess was what they would get.
The sky turned a shade of blood red as it roiled and rumbled.
The ground shook under my feet as I ran toward the cave.
My boots pounded against the ground, and I pumped my arms with a renewed sense of energy, sword still in hand.
Normally, I at least gave these would-be heroes a chance to show me they were worthy of rescuing me.
Even though the truth was that, in the end, it was always me who didn’t feel worthy.
But after the day I’d had, I was done giving anyone the benefit of the doubt.
Whoever this one was, well, this was going to be his unlucky day. He wouldn’t have the chance to judge me because I’d run him off first. Maybe after roughing him up a little.
I stopped in front of the cave, sand rising in the air and whirling in a gritty tornado. The red sky boomed above, a clapping sound that reverberated through the land. Faster and faster the cyclone spun, dizzying to my eyes until it spit out a man. He flew through the air and straight into me.