Chapter 5
I know him instantly.
He’s white, brilliantly so, and his scales ripple with a pearlescent sheen, like the inner chamber of a conch shell. He’s massive; he’s as big as a ship.
He’s beautiful.
The thought startles a sharp breath from me. Beautiful? He’s a beast with blood on his teeth and monstrous clawed feet, one of which is pinning his opponent—a dragon the color of clay—to the ground.
And yet, he’s dazzling. Like staring at a gem amongst stones.
He’s also clearly won this fight already. With a final snarl, he releases his opponent, and the dragon, wincing, rises on shaky legs to reveal his injuries. His entire side is mangled, one bloodied leg is cradled against his body, and his wing drags in the sand.
Not a single scratch mars the king.
“What happens now?” I ask, mostly because I can’t quite decide how I should feel as I gaze down at the king.
“Now the loser will transform,” Boyd says from beside me.
Even as he says it, the dragon pulls his wings over himself and begins shrinking down beneath the leathery appendages. The wings themselves soon dwindle as well, and I watch with fascination right up until I realize this soon-to-be-man’s transformation will not include any clothing.
I sneak a glance at the crowd. Many on this side of the dried-up lake bed are staring my way, but plenty are still focused on the fighters. Is everyone simply going to watch? Is no one going to cover him? Two men are sliding down the rim toward him, but I doubt they’ll make it in time.
My eyes dart to the king. Will he transform the same way? Out in the open like this for all to see? Heat floods my face.
“Your Highness!”
With flaming cheeks and immense relief, I turn toward the familiar voice. Lord Lyken is striding my way with efficient steps long-trained by the sand. My guards shift closer as he nears, but he stops where he is and bows.
“May I approach?” he asks.
“Of course, please.”
Rising, he closes the distance between us, eyes sparkling with laughter. “I came to see what all the fuss was about, but I did not expect to find our lovely queen here in this—”
He stops short. The laughter in his eyes dies away as he takes in the bruises left by his wing. “My queen…” he whispers.
I offer him a reassuring smile. “Please don’t look regretful, Lord Lyken. You saved my life, and I am indebted to you.”
“It was my duty as your—your subject, Your Highness. You could never owe me.”
This is delivered with such genuine heart and feeling that I can instantly see how Tilly fell for him, the poor thing.
“I am inclined to disagree,” I say, “but let us not argue. All I wish to say is that I’m grateful, as is His Majesty.”
I assume he is, anyway.
At the mention of the king, Lord Lyken bows again. “Yes, His Majesty was most generous.”
I have no idea what he means by this, so I simply smile some more. “How are your own injuries?”
Before he can answer, a stiff breeze rushes over us, whistling through my ears and billowing the thin fabric of my gown. As abruptly as it started, the wind stops, and I’m left with a bit of sand in my eyes.
“Pardon me, Lord Lyken,” I say as I blink against the pain. This I say in a perfectly ordinary voice, yet it sounds like I’m shouting. “I seem to have a bit of sand caught…”
My words trail off as I realize a hush has fallen over the entire crowd, and my voice is the only sound to be heard. What’s wrong?
“What is it?” I whisper as tears stream from my eyes. I can’t see anything but the sand at my feet.
Lord Lyken answers, but from downhill, as if he’s backing away from me. “The king,” he says.
The king? What’s happening? Finally, my vision clears, and I swipe frantically at my wet cheeks before lifting my gaze to the makeshift arena.
For a second, all I see are his eyes.
The king, still in dragon form, stares back at me, his pupils wide and fixed on me with unwavering focus. I freeze where I am, every muscle locked tight. A breeze stirs at my back, and the dragon’s nostrils flare as he draws in a great, rumbling breath. Did the wind blow my scent to him before?
The crowd watches, their heads whipping back and forth between us as the silence lengthens.
“And now?” I ask Boyd, who I find is now kneeling behind me.
What happens now?
“I don’t know, Your Highness,” he says.
Vaguely, I note the challenger, robed now, hobbling out of the arena between the two men who came for him. They could be tumbleweeds for all the attention the king gives them. His eyes are only for me.
I sense an opportunity unfolding, a moment, far-reaching but fleeting.
What type of queen will I be to these people?
Most of them are seeing me for the first time, like Boyd.
Will they see a human interloper, well-dressed, yes, but frail and afraid of their ways?
Or will they see a true queen, strong and unflinching like their king?
In that moment, I can’t say what any of my sisters would do. All I know is that the king’s fated flame would go to him. She would congratulate him on his victory; I’m sure of it. A bead of sweat trickles down my back as I hold the dragon’s gaze.
For my people, I think and begin walking toward him.
My guards clatter to their feet, but I lift a hand to stop them.
I’ll have no one say I was afraid to approach my future husband alone.
As for him, he watches me almost warily, like I might somehow leap up and attack from across the lake bed, which is absurd.
I’m not the one with teeth the length of my arm.
My mind drifts briefly as I traverse the arena, flitting from Selena to my cat friend and back to breakfast. Wait, I didn’t have breakfast, did I?
That’s probably why my head feels strange.
I keep moving, the sun bearing mercilessly down on me from above, and the king’s eyes doing the same from ahead.
After what feels like an eternity, he wraps himself in his wings and begins to transform.
I’m beyond grateful to see Rally and Ty jogging his way with a robe in hand.
They shield him with almost magical efficiency, and the next I see of him, he’s forcing an arm through the remaining sleeve and marching my way, a look of open wonder on his face.
“Do you fear nothing?” he demands as he comes to a stop in front of me.
I grip my hands in front of me. Why do I suddenly find him more frightening than when he was a dragon? Perhaps it’s because he barely bothered to cinch the robe, his bare skin is exposed nearly to the waist, and we’re being watched on all sides.
“Was threatening your homeland not enough?” he says, still with that look of amazement. “Do I have to fly off and incinerate other islands to have your attention?”
At this, I draw myself up and let loose the words that have been brewing in the back of my mind since he uttered that threat.
“You lied to me.”
The indignation that blazes in the king’s eyes is enough to make the courage within me wither.
“What?”
“Lied,” I repeat. “You said I need never fear you, and yet you threatened Vasna. You threatened my people.”
He blinks at me. He even opens his mouth for some sort of rebuttal that I fully expect to be ridiculous.
I gasp as, instead of a rebuttal, he seizes me in his arms, squeezes me against him, and says, “Smile, Princess. I’m about to kiss you.”