And yet the prince continued to disgrace me.
Edith sat on a stool, her knitting needles clicking, her attention absorbed in the work. Scythe had made herself scarce, sensing the thickening tension. I kept my temper in check, watching the hours stretch, morning slipping into high noon, then fading to evening.
And still, he never summoned me.
I sat on the chaise, bedecked in the vibrant blues and muted greens of Draconia. A necklace of mother-of-pearl rested against my skin, a perfect match to the finery that adorned my wrists and ears. The sea-green gown, one of my finest, flowed in waves, cascading along my frame with effortless grace. Black boots laced tightly over my knees offered a nice contrast to the delicate tiara nestled in my hair—a silver band adorned with pearls, diamonds, and sapphires that caught the light with every movement, drawing attention to my face.
A knock echoed through the room, and I raised my chin, casting a sharp, deliberate glare. “Come in.”
The door swung open with surprising silence, its weight a testament to its craftsmanship. Ronan entered, leaving his guards in the corridor behind him.
He wore his finest garb. Traces of silver and pearls glinted along the dark leather, sculpting his muscular chest. Unlike the rough uniform worn by most riders, his was lined with smooth silk. His black goggles sat cocked atop his head in a roguish way, as if anyone could miss that he was a rider.
“Father would be beside himself,” I sighed, giving his goggles a pointed look as I stood.
“He should have come.”
“You know as well as I, he would if he could.”
Edith set her knitting aside and leaned in to smooth the folds of my dress, ensuring every line fell without a crease.
“Pah! Old man.” Ronan scoffed, though his lopsided grin softened the jab.
Argos took a battering in his last flight—a whirlstorm hurled him into the jagged crags that surrounded Draconia. His wing, broken and scarred, marked the end of his flights across the sea.
Still a fearsome beast to behold. But, for a grounded dragon, its rider remains earthbound as well—king or not.
Edith tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, scrutinizing my reflection before stepping back—satisfied. Ronan extended his arm, and I steadied myself with a breath before resting my hand on the crook of his elbow.
“Tallon visit you?” he asked, tone casual as we passed the guards posted in the hall.
When the door thudded shut behind us, it echoed the hollow ache within, a weight pressing down as my heart sank. “No.”
His muscles tensed beneath my grip, his steps faltering. With a clenched jaw, my fingers tightened, urging him to keep moving. His anger matched my own, but we couldn’t change the situation.
The first time I’d see Tallon would be under the watchful stares of hundreds of nobles.
“That flaming son of–”
“Of King Kallias,” I finished, casting a sidelong glance at the guards flanking us in the corridor. Any slip could be overlooked, but I dared not let my brother’s words spark gossip that might reach the prince’s ears.
“He arrived last night!” he hissed.
Barely standing, by all accounts.
“Yes, and I’m sure the journey left him… exhausted,” I said, forcing a cordial tone.
The strangled sound in the back of his throat caught somewhere between a scoff and a growl. He strode beside me in silence, no doubt concocting some clever slight to avenge Tallon’s absence. I’d need to steer the prince well clear of him this evening.
“Is Gyrak eager for tomorrow morning?” I asked, guiding the conversation to a safer topic. A couple bowed in tandem as we passed. I returned the gesture with a nod and polite smile, trying to orient myself with the bright halls twisting ahead.
“More than I am,” he answered. “I’ll be on dragonback for far too long.”
“And here you are, a seasoned Dragon Rider, grumbling about your backside’s saddle sores.”
“You got a ship,Princess. Try riding dragonback for days on end with no breaks to take a–”
“Ronan!” I hissed, cutting him off. I forced a grin at the guards, who pretended not to listen, grateful no nobles lingered within earshot.
