In the Embrace of Dragons

Chapter 1

Chapter One

NISSIA

There’s one thing that princesses are good for, and it’s marrying off. Securing alliances. Locking in treaties. We’re fancy cattle, meant to be traded for the good of our nations and our people.

Who cares what happens to us afterward?

“I can’t put on your makeup while you do that with your eyes,” snaps Ari, my handmaid—who is also my boss, my friend, my everything. “Look down. Stop blinking like that.”

Pushing one of her long braids away from her face, she draws a thick line of black kohl along my eyelids, from the tear duct to the outer edge and beyond.

When I open my eyes, it looks like my lashes are ten times longer, my brown eyes ten times darker.

She smears the kohl with her thumb at the edge, creating a shadow around the corner.

“You can hide behind this,” she says, stepping aside so I can get a better look at myself in the mirror. “Then he’s not seeing the real you. Not yet.”

Oh, he’ll see the real me soon enough. I’ve already been warned about what the dragons will require of me to properly seal the treaty.

No, a human marriage isn’t enough for them. Ink on paper isn’t enough for them. My new husband will take me back to his homeland with him, and there, the ceremony will truly be complete when...

“If you cry like that, it’s going to smear your makeup, then I’ll have to clean you off and start over,” Ari warns. So I pinch my lips together and try to stay cold as a stone, not thinking about what awaits me in the dragon’s country.

My father has known from the beginning that this was my fate—to be traded away for some greater purpose.

I love him, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always known that love had an expiration date.

My father, his advisors, even my mother before she passed away, all knew: I was always intended to be married off in my twenty-fourth year, on the day that the treaty between our country and Selvumrrest, our neighbor to the north, was due to expire.

It would need to be re-negotiated, and then sealed... with a marriage.

That’s how it’s done, how it has been done every thousand years to keep war between us at bay. It’s how it has always been done.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Ari says quietly, and I realize I’ve been staring down into my lap for the last few minutes. “You’re not alone, Niss.”

She squeezes my shoulder, so I grip her hand in mine, trying to take strength from her like I have before.

Ari smiles reassuringly as I rise to my feet, standing significantly taller than she does.

Her brown eyes pinch closed, her round cheeks even more prominent.

I still don’t release her hand, because right now, it’s the only thing grounding me to the earth.

But nothing can change my future. Nothing can change what’s coming for me when I meet my future husband.

The dragon.

VIZARIOS

When the castle rises over the tops of the houses, it only takes one glance at Ragnakor for him to understand me. My guard captain walks on ahead, and the rest of the guards flank me as we approach.

We are expected, of course, but the sight of a battalion of dragons still takes the humans by surprise.

News of our arrival spreads, and as we near, they open the city gates to allow us through.

It’s been a long journey here, and it will be a long journey home.

Unlike our great ancestors, we no longer have wings.

That would greatly improve situations like this one.

I could simply toss my new bride over my shoulder and flap my way back to Selvumrrest, rather than tolerating the monotonous trip with some strange woman I’ve never met.

Tradition. The word is a fucking curse. My advisor, Syzari, says it keeps the humans in their place—shows them where they stand on the food chain, which is rather close to the bottom.

They trade one of their royals as the price for their safety, and our ancient, shriveling gene pool takes another desperate breath.

Yes, procreating with my new bride will be one of my many important duties in the coming years, and I do not relish the idea. But without offspring, my line will cease, and we are not prepared with an alternate who could take up my mantle.

My mother passed away last year, or else she would be here with me, entering the gates of the human city.

We’d be passing down rows of shops and houses together—all tiny, dank things with few windows and ugly architecture—as we headed toward the immense castle walls this silly human king thinks will keep him safe.

Dragons are gifted with claws and teeth and thick hides, which make us far more fearsome warriors than humans are. Especially Ragnakor, who has never lost a sword fight. He is the tallest, the largest, and the most skilled. Graced in every way. The humans wouldn’t stand a chance against us.

My frown deepens as the castle gates open, and more heavily armored guards wait.

Inside the palace gates, I dismount my horse, and my entourage stops to wait for the human king to come out and greet us.

The castle is well maintained, the stone straight and polished, very much unlike where I come from.

Our world is ancient, our structures from a time long past—insulated and sturdy, built to withstand the test of time.

Humans are not meant for such things. Merely cattle.

I bristle as we wait and wait. Ragnakor casts me a look but is otherwise stoic. He knows how much I hate waiting, and to be made to wait for a human?

Then, at last, the doors open and out steps the king, a stout man in a long cape, with deep brown skin and close-cropped black hair. He wears an ostentatious crown on his head as if just to remind us who he is.

I don’t need a crown for anyone to know I’m a king.

“King Vizarios,” the human says, bowing his head. I only nod in return, keeping the hierarchy intact. We allow these silly creatures to rule themselves. Though he is a king in title, he is still subservient to me.

I will be sure to remind him of that while I’m here.

“Thank you for at last deigning to meet with us.” My voice drips with sarcasm.

He coughs and straightens his back. “I have planned a great banquet tonight to herald your arrival,” he says, as if in apology. “And to present my daughter to you.”

I hold back a groan. The whole reason I’m here. I didn’t want to be reminded of it yet.

“Then show us to our quarters so we can prepare.”

Hastily, he agrees and instructs another human to show us to our rooms. We’re led in through the front doors and down many different hallways, until we reach the “east wing.” Here we are deposited, and the human asks if we require any other assistance.

“We can handle ourselves,” I snap, and he quickly darts away.

Ragnakor says nothing, but I can feel his judgment on me as I choose the most opulent room.

“What is it?” I finally ask as my footman carries in my luggage.

The captain of the guard studies me, not answering for many long seconds. But I’m used to waiting for him.

“Your future wife,” he finally says. Just those words coming from him makes me grit my teeth. “Will you treat her as you do her father?”

I don’t even have to think about my answer, even though I know where he’s leading me.

“Humans are humans.” I narrow my eyes as I dare him to contradict me. “And she's one of them. I'll treat her how she deserves to be treated.”

His expression gives no indication how he feels about my answer. “I see.” Ragnakor hefts up his own bag over his shoulder, then turns and ducks into one of the adjacent rooms.

No matter how I feel about her, it’s not as if she has a choice in this marriage. Neither do I.

With a huff, I stride into my room, shoo my footman out, and close the door behind me.

I decide to read a book for a while, as I won’t be shining up my scales or polishing my horns for this event.

I care little for what the human king or his brood think of me.

As long as they are afraid, that’s all that matters.

RAGNAKOR

It is, on occasion, difficult to stand at King Vizarios’s side.

He is not cruel at heart, though his favorite pastime appears to be driving others away.

The only reason I will always remain is that deep down, he has been severely wounded by his mother’s death.

I take this into consideration whenever he speaks and acts.

I fear for this marriage, though, and what the king’s dour outlook will mean for the rest of us.

I especially worry for this future bride, given away by her father to seal a treaty that’s many millennia old.

She is innocent in this, whoever she is, and I don’t trust Vizarios not to break that innocence into pieces.

While the king is moping in his room, I choose to explore the castle, leaving two of my most trusted guards posted at Vizarios’s door. I find the practice yard, and the human soldiers all retreat when I enter with my sword.

Perhaps he’s right, and they are rather cowardly.

One of my own males joins me, and we decide to put on a show by sparring in front of the humans. My soldier fights well, but I am both larger and faster, making it difficult for him to keep up. Still, this is for show, so I make sure to let it seem fair.

When I’ve finally decided there has been enough play, I break through his defenses, and a few of the humans cheer.

“Good show,” someone calls out. It’s a young man on the edge of the practice yard, waving a fist. He has a high, musical voice, and a peculiarly attractive face—for a human. “Dragons are no pushovers, I see.”

I grunt in agreement, deciding it’s time to return and get ready for the banquet. The humans all step aside as we exit the yard, granting us a wide berth after our display of strength.

The king would likely approve. We’ve struck fear in them.

I give the young man one last glance before we depart. He has fierce eyes that strike a chord in me, and I wonder if all humans are not as weak and useless as my king believes.

Back in my room, I change out of my traveling clothes and put on my ceremonial garb, thinking about our sparring session.

I’ve rarely interacted with humans, and certainly never found one that was pleasing to look at.

Their faces are strangely flat, with small, peaked noses and fur above their eyes.

They also have poor senses, from what I’ve been told.

I flex my jaw, thinking about their tiny, round mouths full of blunt teeth.

There’s a tingle in my belly, one I’ve only felt once before.

I tense as I strap on my shoulder plate, which is asymmetrical so that the colors of our country fall in a tassel from one side.

It joins by a rope across my front to my opposite shoulder, over my shining breastplate.

It’s not one I would ever wear into war, or even a fight in the sparring arena.

It’s heavy and cumbersome, and it makes my hulking shape even bigger.

A little human like that would be frightened of me, surely.

Not that it matters. When we’ve finished with what we came here to do, it’ll be time to return to Selvumrrest. When I get home, I ought to try to find a mate of my own, so I can stop feeling this longing for someone I’ll never have.

When I’m dressed, I stand outside the king’s door, waiting for him to emerge. It’s nearly sunset, when the banquet is scheduled to begin, which makes me antsy. I despise being late.

“Your Majesty?” I ask, knocking on his door. There’s a groan inside, and then it opens.

He does not look much better now than when I left him.

“You are not wearing your ceremonial outfit?” I ask, trying to keep any shred of judgment out of my tone. Vizarios hates it when he perceives anyone condescending to him.

He shrugs. “Why bother? They won’t know the difference.”

“It is tradition—”

“I don’t give a fuck about tradition.” He waves at me over his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go already.”

I shut my mouth with a clack and nod instead, falling into step beside him as we head toward the ballroom. He’s not even wearing the gold rings around his horns that royalty should.

We are making a very bad impression.